Jump to content

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'Trinity Universe'.

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


  • Discussion
    • Role Playing Games (RPG)
    • Role Playing News
    • Trinity Continuum RPG
    • Card, Board & Video Games
    • Movies, TV, Books & Music
    • General Discussion
  • Games Archive
    • Games Archive
  • WEIRDER STUFF's Weirder Stuff
  • Scion: Modern Mythology's Topics
  • World of Darkness: The Chosen's Topics


  • Trinity Continuum
  • Trinity Universe (Original Game Versions)
    • Trinity
    • Aberrant
    • Adventure
  • Other Games

Find results in...

Find results that contain...

Date Created

  • Start


Last Updated

  • Start


Filter by number of...


  • Start





Website URL







  1. Here's how I'd like to talk about the custom powers and rules we want. some of them are going to be an easy up-down, yes-no vote. Others I'd like to talk about a bit. Here's the first thing: ,, Breaking Adaptability into Pieces ,, Tireless Enhancement (A:PG) - In addition to the endurance bonus, Nova no longer requires sleep (the enhancement is a pretty minor one without the addition), to simulate no longer requiring sleep. Health Enhancement (A:PG) - To simulate the resistance to diseases, poisons, and drugs. Unaging Enhancment (TNF) - To simulate the increased or infinite lifespan. Invulnerability: Temperature Extremes - To simulate resistance to hostile environments. Could be made as an enhancement as well, I suppose, granting an extra success or two per dot of M-Stamina versus temperature extremes/hostile environments. Being Space Worth, if one wants that, can be a Body Mod (which I think is written down somewhere).
  2. Sean tried to look casual on the park bench, but there were a few things working against him. First, Shae was ‘getting them money or clothing’, and Sean sure as shit hadn’t asked how or where she planned to get them. He also wasn’t going to ask her when she showed back up with stuff. Second, it was late, and he was chilling in a park with two young girls. They were both thirteen—he hoped—but he knew that as the oldest and as the guy, he was getting the blame. Third, the neighborhood wasn’t the best; they’d already had some rough-looking dark-skinned people looking at them funny. Sean was no racist, but he was aware that he was a white kid alone with two white girls, with a third white girl out in the night doing something that was probably illicit (not that he was going to ask). An older black man had been watching them for some time. He was talking to a younger black man with him, but the guy kept looking over at them with a frown. Sean shifted and sat up straighter, only half-aware of Rebecca’s chatter as she gushed on about some computer game. She didn’t like any of the games he did; she liked thinking games. He’d asked her about it to distract her and then promptly tuned her words out. The two men stopped talking and headed for the three of them. Sean leaned forward as they approached, then stood when they were within talking range. He pulled his shades down and their progress faltered at the sight of his glowing, inhuman eyes. The older man didn’t stop and asked in a deep voice, “Young man, are you and your friends all right?” “What?” Sean asked, expecting another question entirely. The man stared at him evenly. “If you and your friends need shelter, my church has ties with a youth shelter. You don’t need to be out here if you have nowhere else to go.” “I, uh… no, we’re waiting on my friend.” Sean felt embarrassed by his assumption about the man’s intentions. “She should be back soon. Uh, but… thanks? For the offer. It’s nice of you.”
  3. The Yearly Christmas Party was a thing of beauty, in that it was paid for out of Connor's pockets, not the taxpayer's. It was friendly to all creeds, and totally voluntary, It was more about goodwill and getting everyone together than any religious tennets. The food was a sumptuous banquet of finger foods, not necessarily gourmet, but things that everyone liked. It was open to everyone, and while he didn't stock any alcohol, he didn't ban anyone from bringing it. Director Horst was there for the beginning, then excused himself. For the most part it was a baseline party, since only Connor was there first. He knew there were several new novas in the DSA, and he'd personally invited them, just to be a welcoming compatriot. There was a tree there were gifts, and he knew if Everyone showed, there'd be nowhere near enough, but still he'd made every effort, and would square it with anyone who felt left out. Or at least he'd try to. His only worry was really that Karrie would eventually show up. He'd not really spoken to her since that night beyond the needs of work, and in a social setting such as this, it could be explosive.
  4. This timeline is a work in progress. Comments and/or suggestions should go in the OOC thread, not here. WINTER What Could Go Wrong?!- Started by Alexander Andrews, 06 Feb 2012 Day of the Dreadnoughts (Redeux)- Started by Dave ST, 15 Feb 2012 Dante's Inferno- Started by Dave ST, 15 Feb 2012 Learning Curve- Started by Sakurako Hino, 11 Nov 2012 (Follows Dante's Inferno) Retaliatory Gift- Started by Sonja Bahaar, 01 Feb 2013 (Follows Learning Curve) The Lion, The Wench and the Warzone- Started by Dave ST, 15 Feb 2012 "Relax, We're The Good Guys"- Started by Dave ST, 15 Feb 2012 Midnight PIE!- Started by The Morrigan, 26 Sep 2012 (Follows Relax, We're The Good Guys) Bribing the Evil Glowing One!- Started by The Morrigan, 14 Sep 2012 ,, SPRING Marco's First Day- Started by Marco Moreno, 22 Jan 2013 Comfort- Started by The Morrigan, 24 Feb 2013 (Follows Marco's First Day) Lively Lessons- Started by Curtis Shane, 18 Feb 2013 Old Friend, New Problem- Started by The Morrigan, 20 Feb 2013 Changing Seasons- Started by Alexander Andrews, 05 Mar 2013 [MH-Plot] The Proposal- Started by Dave ST, 06 Mar 2013 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UNSORTED Cryogenic Biology- Started by Glacia, 30 Jan 2013 Jolting Developments- Started by Curtis Shane, 15 Jan 2013 Spark, Sizzle, Chill.- Started by Hotstreak, 16 Jan 2013 Picnic Study Session [Mature]- Started by Hotstreak, 05 Oct 2012 Moving-in Day- Started by Locomotive, 05 Sep 2012 Saku and Natt's Day Off- Started by Sakurako Hino, 25 Feb 2013
  5. It was late into the evening that Connor finally managed to make it back to the hotel, shower, and change. The entire experience with Supreme left him at a loss. It was all so real, and though so little time passed outwardly, he had weeks of memories with Kitty, and the rest of the crew on a movie that never was, or would be. Before setting about making a surprisingly large number of children happy, he'd shot a Text to Kitty to ask her to meet him in the lobby of the Westgate Marriot at eight. It would be a late dinner, but after something like they'd gone through together, well, he knew they should talk, and more he wanted to talk to her. He dressed casually, still managing to look ever the Dashing hero of any picture you cared to name, a veritable avatar of Adonis, perfect in every way, as he sat in the lobby, reading the day's paper. The talking Heads on the Tv gave their opinions on potential nova threats, that is, novas who could become major threats. It wasn't something he liked to consider, that some would use the gifts of quantum for darker ends, but one he knew in his bones to be true. If the those who looked to walk in the Light could think in darker terms, surely too could others. That his own name came up did surprise him. They spoke of his known abilities, and their darker uses. "I'm sure the Director is positively thrilled this drivel made it on the air.." He sighed. people thinking dark thoughts regarding those who sought only to help others, It was a sorry state of things to find the world in. Not that it was new, but For him, to be included as one with potential for great malice, that was new, and most unwelcome.
  6. Spring in a new school. No one ever liked being the new kid at school. Having no friends and being the outsider; it sucks. What made it worse was his condition. To his horror and shame, Marco had only recently discovered he was a Mutant, a freak, and finding that out had cost someone their life. True it was just another mutant, but the fact that he had killed someone still didn’t sit right with the young man. That this was a school set up and designed to handle mutants was a mixed blessing. At least he didn’t have being the only mutant around working against him but yeah… a whole school filled with these freaks. Marco sighed and looked around the space that was to be his room. It was smaller than the walk-in closet of his parent’s bedroom. At least he didn’t have to share the room with someone else like the poor kids. Mr. Drumm and his lawyer slash guardian Mr. Lovell watched him expectantly and he smiled weakly at them. “It should suffice,” he said. His English was superb, with only a soft hint of his Spanish accent that added a sultry quality to his voice. He watched as they relaxed ever so slightly. Truth be told Marco was hoping he wouldn’t be here long enough for the lack of space to become an issue. “I’m glad you are happy with it Marco,” Mr. Drumm said. “Well, now that everything is in order here, I will leave you to your unpacking as Mr. Lovell and I finish off the last of your paperwork. If you’d like, I’ll send one of the other students around to give you a tour of the campus. Your welcome package has a map and your class schedule, but we’ve found that having another classmate to show you around and introduce you to the rest of the student body can make the transition period easier.” Marco looked at the head of the school new without a doubt that his smile was truly genuine. And then the voices came; first Drumm’s, then Lovell’s, then everyone else’s. A flood of disconnected images, feelings and thoughts from what must have been everyone in the building rushed through his mind and he turned away from the two adult before they could see the pain on his face. “As you wish,” he said dismissively as he tried to focus on his luggage. It wasn’t his intent to be rude, but the pain of the telepathic overload made it difficult to remember his manners. The two men left as Marco struggled through the pain to unpack and step up his iPod docking station. Techno-dance music echoed down the corridor of the dorm as the thumping bass and beat began to drown out the voices in Marco’s head. Slowly he began to relax and eventually he could think again. He spent the next hour unpacking and setting his things up. Once his space was set, Marco switched off his iPod and grabbed his welcome package. He was feeling better after his little ‘incident’ and wanted to explore the campus a bit. Grabbing a jacket of his own design, a striking black number modeled off a Spanish bullfighter’s jacket and removing the little map of the campus he decided to check out the athletic facilities first. After a quick orientation upon discovering the map was less helpful than expected, Marco found himself in the gym. While no one would ever accuse him of being a jock, Marco did enjoy certain sports, fencing the foremost, and wanted to see if the facilities could accommodate his interests as advertised. He wasn’t prepared for what he found there. Around 30 6th graders were split into 2 groups on either side of the massive gymnasium and were engaged in an enthusiastic game that involved throwing soccer ball sized red utility balls at each other vigorously. Apparently there was no restriction against using one’s powers and the sheer variety of power on display was staggering. There were kids in the air, bouncing off the walls, speeding around the floor. One kid had turned his hands into big fly swatters and was batting balls at the other team, a girl with four arms had a ball in each hand and was swinging for rafter to rafter by her feet, another kid was intangible, letting balls pass right through him and only becoming tangible long enough to throw a ball back and all the while kids were laughing, hollering and cat calling each other. It was a riotous chaos that bewildered and unnerved Marco. As he watched energy flash and kids shape shift or speed around the floor or any other number of impossible things, Marco felt his throat constrict and his chest tighten. Around him small unattended objects began to rattle, then jump and dance as he started generating uncontrolled telekinetic power. Fearing another attack, Marco fled from the gym. He jogged away from the building while trying to get his power back under control, stopping to rest under a large tree.
  7. Name: Olivia Jennings Gender: female Height: 5’5” Weight: 120 pounds Date of Birth: September 28, 1919 Eruption Date: December 21, 1920 ,, Allegiance: Red Cross ,, Appearance: Olivia is a young woman of negro descent. Her height and weight are all average for her gender and race. She is in good health, having recovered from the attack that caused her eruption. ,, Known powers: Jennings is a talented nurse; even before eruption, her medical skills were strong. After her eruption, her proficiency with medicine has increased, including the ability to use ætheric energies to heal. This is causing consternation with the doctors; she once performed field surgery on a man. There is concern among the Red Cross administration that she will get above herself and attempt procedures better left to trained personnel. ,, Her ability to heal through ætheric energies is balanced by her ability to cause harm to the body. Jennings has described it as manipulating the human body’s health. She can do the same to herself, to limited degree. This power has caused an ætheric feedback in her: her touch causes pain except when she’s healing. ,, History: Olivia was born in the poorest parts of New Orleans, the daughter of a single mother. Della Jennings wasn’t married until Olivia was six and never talked about Olivia’s father. It wasn’t until the girl was older that she learned her father was her mother’s former employer. Her father was powerful, rich and white, and no attempt was made by mother or daughter to talk to him. Even at twelve, Olivia knew how the world worked. ,, Her step-father was a good man and she loved her half-siblings. At sixteen, she was working after school to help support her family and save for college. Her plan was to get a degree in history, but one of the administrators at the school explained that Olivia would be wasting her time and effort. She wouldn’t be able to get an advanced degree and would never be able to do anything with it. So Olivia entered nursing. ,, She hated it, but endured. The young woman was bright and able to pass her classes. Dancing and music kept her sane during this time; the young woman went to nightclubs in the city that admitted coloreds during her free time. ,, After school came the effort of finding work. Jobs went to white women first, particularly in bigoted New Orleans. There was talk among the family that Olivia should go north where a negro could sometimes find work. But Olivia had another idea: she’d volunteered in some of the poorest missions in New Orleans, both to practice her skills and to make contacts for work. While here, she met Walter Forthright, an administrator in the American Red Cross. He volunteered in missions in his free time, and quickly recognized the value of Olivia’s skills. She could have a job with them, if she agreed to serve overseas. Olivia agreed, expecting to be shipped to Europe, where stories were coming about war with Germany. Instead, they sent her to Burma in mid-1940. ,, The Burmese were rebelling against their colonial masters, the British. The Red Cross was attempting to be neutral and aid the native Burmese while the British were being imperlists. Olivia didn’t like Burma; she didn’t know the Burmese language and while English was the official language, she didn’t like that the natives could talk without her knowing. ,, Sending negros to foreign sites was not unusual for the Red Cross, and Olivia made friends with those of her own race. She continued to enjoy music and dancing; the young man she was dating, Sean Dermont, loved to take her dancing. They were talking about the future, in careful, hesitant terms. ,, One night she and Sean and another couple went to Rangoon for a Christmas party. On their way back to their base of operations, they were ambushed by members of the British Army. The men were drunk and looking for a good time; at night, under the cover of night, they decided to have their fun with the four coloreds. At first, it was just simple harassment; then one of the Brits ordered the women to disrobe. Sean and the other man objected but were outnumbered. Their attempt to defend the women only resulted in them being beaten to death while the women were raped. ,, It was during the attack that Olivia erupted. One moment, she was helpless; the next pain was slicing through the man attacking her. She fought them off as best she could and when the men couldn’t touch her without hurting themselves, they just shot her and left her in the jungle with the bodies of her three friends. She should have died; instead she healed and walked out of the jungle. ,, The Red Cross contacted the British Army; all four of the victims were Red Cross workers and the agency demanded action. The eight men identified by Olivia were reprimanded but two of them were in the hospital. Their injuries were severe and caused by an unknown source. The report from the Red Cross helped them to understand what had happened. ,, To Olivia's surprise, the British Army reacted swiftly. Three of the men were captured immediately and tried. They were found guilty and rapidly shot. The other three men went AWOL to avoid the firing squad. The Army also gave Olivia Ætherfiber as compensation.
  8. "With all due respect, ma'am," Bates gritted out, "she's a damn menace, not team material. Neither of them are." ,, Dr. Weir sighed and resisted the urge to rub her temples. "Captain, this is not a request. You insisted on a team that included Sgt. Moreau. According to Dr. Heightmeyer and Dr. Fitzgerald, separating her from the sergeant at this point would hinder her recovery." She held up a hand before the Captain could interrupt her, "In addition, Dr. Fitzgerald has been able to make her own connection with Ms. Amara, one that could prove critical in understanding the Wraith and helpful in establishing allies and trade partners in the Pegasus Galaxy." She leaned across the desk towards him, "That is still the primary mission of any team that goes through the Stargate, Captain. If you're going to take a team out, those are the terms." ,, +~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+ He's considered training them both at the same time, but between crazy and ice queen he was pretty sure he'd snap a neck in the first five minutes. So currently the makeshift was occupied with exactly one inhumanly strong Captain of the Atlantis Expedition and one broken blonde waif of girl that should have died ten thousand years ago. ,, "Can you understand what I'm saying?" He peered at her, trying not to spook the loon. ,, Inoae nodded quickly, not wanting to anger the volatile male. "Yes." ,, "Good." He stalked around her and she stilled completely. "You're going to be on my team," he announced and she flinched just a little at the underlying thread of anger in the words. He ignored it. "I don't like this, but I don't have a choice. If I'm going to take you out through the gate, I'm not going to tie up one of my soldiers babysitting you every time. So, you're going to learn how to defend yourself." ,, He waited for some acknowledgement from her, but she just stood there - completely silent and still. It was creepy. He prodded her with a finger. She stumbled and fell to the floor, a dark bruise already spreading out under the white t-shirt. He heard how hard she hit the ground and she didn't even put out her arms to break the fall or cry out in pain. She just laid on the floor, the bruise slowly yellowing and fading completely under the shirt as he watched. Jesus, I'm gonna kill her and she's not even gonna try to stop me. ,, "Get up," he said, ignoring the waver of nervousness in the words. She stood up, back into the exact same waiting stance she'd had before. For a long moment they both stood there. "Let's get you to the infirmary, before you bleed out internally or something." ,, "This one-" she swallowed and started again, her eyes glancing up at him furtitively. "I am not damaged now. I am learning?"
  9. After her latest discussion with Daniel, Diana was brought back to something that she had wanted to know more about for some time, a better understanding of mutant biology in general and her own biology in specifics, that required study of her personal biology and powers. Why were the powers of each mutant different in some ways and yet very similar in others, how much did personality, event and experience shape one's powers? So here she was, in the school labs, doing a few tests on herself, and wondering if she couldn't get a few other mutants in the school to help with this.. sure, she could likely get Daniel to help, but that was almost a given, and she wanted to study more then just their two sorts of abilities. Many things about her own person didn't make complete sense to her, how was her biology shifted to cryogenic but still fully able to work and manifest normal, it was as though every cell was altered, and her body was tougher to, though not as tough as some of the mutants here. An exploration of personal powers and capabilities as well as the powers and capabilities of others was in order.. but first, to explore her own capabilities further.
  10. It had taken a lot of convincing Morri to calm down, but the feral had done it. It had been several days before she’d talk to Sonja. The busty blonde reminded herself constantly for those long days that Morri would come around, if given the time to do it at her own pace. It happened slowly: laboriously, even. But Sonja still counted herself as the lucky one; the red-eyed mutant hadn’t spoken to Alex yet. Alex tried; in his own gentle way, he attempted to make Morri understand that they were equals. It was a little hard when she wouldn’t even met his eyes; the very attempt sent her running away from him. He tried not to let it hurt, but the drastic change between the excited girl playing on the guitar, renaming notes and this frightened child was hard to bear. It only made it worse to know that he’d caused it, indirectly. Finally, Alex waited for her to make the first overture to him. It came only a couple of days after he stopped trying, though he didn’t recognize it. He found one of his guitar picks lying on his pillow. It had gone missing not long after he’d arrived here. Alex had assumed one of the freshmen girls that had been making eyes at him had taken it, but he’d never figured out which one. Apparently, he’d been wrong; it had just been misplaced. Likewise, he didn’t recognize the candy bar as being from her either. It was his favorite candy, and he guessed that another admirer had left it. Some part of him hoped it was Velvet, but didn’t seem her style. Kia, maybe? The sun-child spent some time considering the possibilities, but no candidate jumped out at him. The porn magazine was written off as a joke. It seemed the kind of thing that Warren would do for a laugh, particularly as the magazine had been called Beautiful Black Busts. So he’d laughed about it, discreetly 'read the articles' and gotten rid of it. The escalation had gotten weird then. He’d find guitars from the school music room on his pillow, or a bit of food—always candy. Once, there were some car keys on his pillow. They’d been to Director Drumm’s car. Alex had quietly returned them, guessing that someone’s powers had gone awry. But part of him wasn’t quite sure. Sonja’s underwear could not be ignored—in all possible meanings.
  11. "Carol! Wait up, hon." ,, At the sound of his voice, the young woman stopped in mid-step, and sighed, hunching her shoulders. She pulled back the hood of her winter coat to reveal short brown hair, pale skin with freckles, and light green eyes. The man running after her across the snow-covered university grounds was equally fair skinned, as Canadians often were in the wintertime. ,, She turned around as they young man closed the distance. She folded her arms. "I have nothing to say to you, Daniel Finn." ,, "C'mon, Carol, don't be like that..." ,, "Don't be like - " Carol bit her tongue. "I have to get to class." ,, "C'mon, Carol, what'd I do wrong? It was just a joke!" ,, "A joke." ,, "Yeah! Me and the guys, we're just having fun." ,, "You made mooing noises at Jenny! She put on less than twenty pounds, in winter, and you and the rest of those jerks you pal around with still make fun of her weight! In the middle of the cafeteria, in front of everyone!" ,, "Well - well - " Now it was Daniel's turn to bite his tongue. "Come on, we didn't mean nothing by it..." ,, "Daniel, she cried all night. I got no sleep at all because I was sure she was going to kill herself. I'm pretty sure she's sticking a finger down her throat again." ,, "She – what?" Daniel turned pale. "Carol..." ,, "And I have a really tough class, so please. Drop it." ,, "I – okay. All right." Daniel blew out through his lips, and ran his fingers through greased blonde hair. "Still don't think that it's something to break up over..." ,, Carol didn't say anything. ,, "Did you really think she'd try to, you know?" ,, "She tried it once before. Her brother used to – well, she got good at covering up bruises." ,, "He what? I – that son of a bitch. Is he living here in Calgary? I'll lay him right out - " ,, "He's not. It wouldn't do anything." ,, "Why didn't she talk to her mom and pop about it? Wouldn't they, you know, put a stop to it?" ,, "She did, Daniel." Carol look at her watch, and sighed. "But it didn't do any good. So she tried to jump off a bridge." ,, "Why didn't it - " ,, "Because you know us girls, Daniel. We like to make up our little stories. We like to talk behind your back and spin little lies about where we got the bruises and why – and why we cry over nothing. She told them. They didn't believe her. Because guess what, Daniel, most of the time you put a man's word up against a woman's, people will take the man's word. They'll take him at his word and go right back to telling her she should wear her hair down more or try and lose a couple of pounds." ,, "I didn't know." Daniel involuntarily took a step back. "Carol, doll, believe me, I swear I never would have said a word if I'd known - " ,, "No, you didn't know. I know. But Daniel, you still hurt her. You can still hurt someone without even thinking about it. You know that, right?" ,, "Yeah. Carol, believe me, I really am sorry." ,, "You should apologize to her in person. And Daniel? Maybe you should think about what it's like to be a woman for just one day. Just think about it for one day. If you're serious about why you want to get into the law, then you're going to have a lot of women clients. You should think about what it's like for them if you're going to represent them. And more than that, you should just think about it more, period." ,, Daniel said nothing. Carol looked at her watch again, and sighed. "Now, I don't know if you remember, but there's a war on. I need to get to class. We need nurses out there. We need doctors too, but I was three percentage points shy of the 90% I needed on my admittance exam, so nursing it is." ,, "Can – can we talk later?" ,, "I'm still mad at you. But... we'll see." Carol sighed. "I have to go. Bye for now." ,, "See you later." Daniel watched her go, light gray parka blending into the snow-filled landscape of the college grounds. ,, He replayed the events of the cafeteria in his head all the way back to his dorm, and they didn't leave him for the rest of the day.
  12. The smell was the worst part. She couldn't clog her nose against it, and each breath drew the scent of rot, shit and body odor into her nose. The rot was probably a permanent part of the cell that had been her home for a while. The shit and body odor came from her. Or maybe it was the pain that was the worst part. There were times when the ache rose up in her like a living monster, tearing at her body. Her muscles were beyond stiff and well into agony, drawn into an unnatural position by the manacles dangling her from the ceiling. Her shoulders were dislocated, pulled out of their sockets by the weight of her body. She was covered in bruises from her capture and the rough treatment that had followed. Her throat was raw from thirstor perhaps screaming. She'd kicked until her arms pulled loose; after that, every movement was painful. Now she focused on not moving, but that was when the smell started to choke her. The cell was without illumination, but she didn't need to see. Not only could she smell the mold and thick wet decay in the air, but she'd seen the cell when theyd dragged her into here. It was a box, made of stone blocks, stained with centuries of torture and abuse, and dank and wet. There wasnt anything more to it. The sound of a door opening brought her head up; only an inch but it was enough to awake every nerve in her body and brought a whimper of pain from her lips. She thought about escape but knew she didn't have the strength to do it right now. She couldn't even fight, not unless they gave her a few minutes to relocate her arms and another few minutes to heal enough to fight. She might be young, but Silvestru knew they wouldn't give her that time. The door to her hellhole opened and two men entered. Silvestru blinked in the blinding glare of their lamps. They were carrying a collapsing table, which they rapidly set up to the side. A tremble started in her numb fingers but she didnt make a noise. She remembered very well what they had done with the last table they'd brought into this cell. The two men left, only to return with two folding chairs. The shakes grew worse and Silvestru could hear the first quiet noises of a whimper escaping her throat. She didnt want another round of torture. She was close to breaking; Silvestru could feel it. There was so little of her left that wasn't pain: mental, physical or olfactory. A third man entered as the other two left. Silvestru immediately knew that he was her next tormentor. The man set a picnic basket on the table before turning to her. His eyes were some pale color; they narrowed slightly before he walked around to the catch holding the chain. With a grunt, he pulled the chain, raising her and drawing a soft cry from her. He released the catch and freed the chain, lowering her to her feet. Silvestrus legs wobbled and she almost fell; she was proud when she kept her balance. That pride was ripped away when her arms swung low, sending a spasm of pain through her body. She collapsed then, only to have strong hands catch her and guide her into one of the chairs. Silvestru tried to stop the pained noises she was making but couldnt. The man crouched in front of her and undid the manacles, letting the chains rattle to the stone floor. He placed her arms across her legs; she stared at them, vaguely aware that she should be concerned because her wrists were almost black with bruising. Silently, he moved to her side and lifted an arm. She winced and braced herself as he straightened the arm and took a grip on it and her collarbone. When he jerked the bone back into its socket, she couldn't stop the scream of pain. He grunted softly as he laid her arm back on her leg. Her captor repeated the procedure on the other arm and earned another scream. Still silent, he opened the basket and drew out bandages and clothes. Silvestru knew the ploy. His comrades had softened her and now he was going to be kind and win her over to their side. She hardened her heart to his care, unmoving and unresponsive as he cleaned her wounds and wrapped them. The young dynamic was simply grateful that she wasnt hanging from the ceiling anymore. They would put her back there, in time. Until then, she would enjoy it. When he was done tending to her injuries, he pulled a canteen out of the basket. He held it for her to drink from, and cool, clear water flowed into her mouth. Silvestru gulped at the liquid, her thirst overwhelming her decorum. Next, he produced another canteen; this one held warm broth. It was possibly the best thing she'd ever tasted, and she didn't mind that a dirty Fascist was helping her eat. When she'd emptied the canteen in careful sips, he took away the basket. When he returned a moment later, he had a cot. The man helped her lie down; being vertical was heavenly. Silvestru fought the gratitude surging through her. She'd pay for every kindness hed shown her, she knew that. Yet when he murmured, "I am Luka. Well talk later," she caught his name and held onto it. Luka. That was day one of her conditioning.
  13. Magnum Opus Real Name: Daniel Finn Assumed Name: Danielle Waters Nature: Caregiver ATTRIBUTES Physical (Sec) Mental (Pri) Social (Ter) STR ••••/••• - Well-Built DEX ••/• STA •••/• PER •••/• INT •••/• WIT ••••/• - Empathic APP ••••/•• MAN •• CHA •• Abilities (23 dots) Strength: Might • Dexterity: Athletics ••, Drive •• Stamina: Endurance •••, Resistance ••• Perception: Awareness •, Navigation •• Intelligence: Academics ••• (Law, Philosophy) Linguistics • (French,) Science • Wits: Arts •, Biz ••, Rapport •• Appearance: Disguise •, Style •, Perform • Manipulation: Diplomacy •• Charisma: Etiquette • Allies •• Ætherfiber ••••• Cipher ••••• Resources •• Willpower: 6 Quantum: 3 Bonus Points: (15) Speciality: Law, Philo 2 Willpower +3: 6 Backgrounds +7 7 Quantum Powers: - Mega-Strength •••: Precision - Mega-Dexterity •: Fast Tasks - Mega-Stamina •: Adaptation - Mega-Perception •: Holographic Awareness - Mega-Intelligence •: Self-Analysis - Mega-Wits •: Natural Empath - Mega-Appearance ••: Miss Nobody - Flight • - Armor • - Quantum Bolt (Bashing; Kinetic Energy) • Nova Points: 40 Mega-Strength •••: 9 Mega-Appearance ••: 6 Mega-Dex •: 3 Mega-Stamina •: 3 Mega-Perception •: 3 Mega-Intelligence •: 3 Mega-Wits •: 3 Flight •: 3 Armor •: 3 Quantum Bolt •: 3 3 Regular Atts: 1 XP Tracker: Debut: March 4th, 2013 Signal From The Noise: April, May 2013 30 Unspent XP
  14. “Sir.” Bates’s tone was harsh enough that he stopped and forced himself to breathe deeply for a second. Shepherd stopped walking and the two men faced each other in the hallway. His expression was terse and stern as he faced the Captain, giving the other man a chance to calm down. They may not have liked one another, but they both respected the ranks each other wore. “Sir,” Bates continued when he had calmed down, “I respectfully request that you not gut my team.” Shepherd’s eyes narrowed. “A move onto my team is usually seen as a promotion, Captain. It’s a sign of how good your team is.” “Yes, sir. But they are my team. We work well together. We have understandings, sir.” Bates didn’t add that he had liked having the super-powered team. Weir had already started to mention some of the missions they’d be going on, and Bates had been really excited by the opportunity. They still had no idea how long these “super-powers” would last; McKay was no closer to a cure, but none of them seemed to be dying yet. “I’ll let you keep Evana and Shane,” Shepherd started, only to stop when Bates caught his arm. Bates didn’t need to touch people get their undivided attention, not since he’d changed. But he still did it, even as he reflexively added that extra oomph from his strange new abilities. “Sir, you give me Ford, or anyone else who isn’t like us, I’ll kill him. It won’t be intentional, but you know how soldiers are. If there’s one person who’s the super-man, then you look up to him. If you’re the one guy who’s not super powered, you’re going to try to keep up or feel less a man. That’s what whomever you replace Yseult is going to feel like.” Shepherd studied him a moment before nodded. “All right. Keep your team, Captain. Anything else?” “No sir.” Bates smiled, a stiff smile of gratitude. “Thank you, sir.” “Don’t mention it, Captain.” Shepherd grinned before sauntering down the hall. Bates went his own way, his head spinning with plans. There was a lot to do.
  15. It was a rare thing, for Someone to walk next to Daniel along the paths between buildings. Still it was cold out, and it so Happened that Curtis had taken refuge within the aura of radiant heat surrounding Daniel to take the bite out of the Cool air and colder wind. Class had gone well today, and while nowhere near the level of intelligence as Curtis, Daniel still did well enough. "So, Curtis how're things going with you?" It wasn't often they really spoke, though hearing his take on Milton, along with Warren's had helped he and Sonja put together another "A" grade report. "Thanks again for your help with the Report on Paradise Lost, between you and Warren, and even Oneca, you all gave me plenty to think about when we wrote the report."
  16. I think it's about time to shake things up. ,, What I propose is fairly simple. ,, The Mexican government has been doing well to purge the corrupt from office, and military command. The major drug and arms cartels do not like this. ,, They decide they're going to strike the head from the snake in a single bold gesture, but one that would allow them to choose the next President and government assembly. ,, The big question is how they go about doing it. ,, Enter Emilio Travio, a Refugee nova of great intellect, who has rebuffed any attempts to recruit him. He is utterly dissatisfied with the way Refugee novas are treated, and refuses to use his gifts to better the world that treats him as a second class citizen. Officially he lives in Argentina as a recluse, living in a mountain estate no one gains entry to. In reality, he is a designer of arms, which he sells to whomever can pay. ,, The cartels come to him, treating the vain nova with great respect, and offer him not money, but a challenge, to make a weapon to take out a large city, without it being biological or nuclear in nature. He was intrigued, but knew he'd need materials. He negotiated hard, and the cartels agreed to his terms and his price. ,, He delivers six months later, a device roughly the size of a septic tank, and nods triumphantly handing the liason an encrypted hard drive with proper deployment procedures, and the signal for detonation. He named the weapon "The Quake" ,, ,, another month passed, and the device is detonated, in a suburb of Mexico City. The entire city is rocked by a 7.9 on the Richter scale earthquake. Kilometers away, a dormant volcano erupts. Nearly the entirety of the Mexican government is slain by crumbling buildings and debris. the major military base is wiped out and the city burns as gas mains burst and pandamonium reigns. ,, Of all the government, the Mexican President does survive, as he was on an impromptu tour of a hospital with a delegation from the DSA. He immediately asks the DSA agents on site for aid and seeing the devastation asks the US officially for aid, specifically from the DSA novas. Nearly all of which will be deployed to help restore order and the recovery efforts. ,, I envision this part to be a chance for any nova involved to be a hero in their own right, in what scale you find appropriate. ,, The second part of this is abit darker ,, The Mexican president suspects but has no evidence of the Cartel's involvement. He asks for the DSA's help in erradicating them once and for all. What would follow is a parallel of how Team Tomorrow stomped out the cartels in the main aberrant world. ,, ,, ,, ,, As this idea is world affecting, and open to any character with reason to participate, I put it all to you to see if you wish to go this route, before I begin it.
  17. ~ Takes place during Learning Curve, after classes ,, Sonja glided out of the school and towards the student parking lot, her open pink long-coat swirling around her legs and a grin on her lips. It had taken a while, but she had finally gotten her BMW X6 adjusted, so she could fit behind the wheel again, though at the cost of most of the backseat room on the driver's side. ,, There had been annoyances, though. Finding out she was a mutant - she didn't have glowing eyes or blue skin, but, well, it hardly took more than a glance to tell she was more than human - the mechanics had dragged their feet on the work. Then when she had picked up her car, they had tried to over-charge her. ,, Which was kinda stupid when the client could benchpress buses. She really hadn't meant to intimidate them so badly, but she had wanted her car back, so she had simply picked it off the lift it had been sitting on. ,, She raised her fob and her silver BMW beeped as the doors unlocked. She slid in behind the wheel, luxuriating in the leather seat for a minute, a faint furrow appearing between her brows as she wondered if she really did smell a faint trace of brimstone or cigarette smoke.It was still a snug fit for her, and she was still adjusting to new sightlines, but it was hers. ,, She put the Sports Activity Coupe in gear, then peeled out of the lot with all the speed and unconcern of a young woman tougher and with reflexes greater than human. She had some running around to do and was simply happy to be driving a stylish vehicle again instead of the lumbering school van. ,, First, she stopped off at Barnes & Noble and picked up a copy of Dante's Inferno. And a copy of the Cliff Notes with only the slightest pang of guilt. ,, Next, was the main reason why she had come out. She had ordered something to gift 'Neca in return for the clothing she had arranged for her, and had gotten the call that it was in this morning from the specialist shop she had found. ,, However, when she was passing the Guiseppe Zanotti store, she couldn't help but stop in and look at the shoes. The sales associate gave her a surprised and not-quite-condescending look. She may have been dressed casually, but her clothes looked top of the line and someone as good looking as her must come from money. ,, On the other hand, she was a seven foot goliath, looming over the sales associate, despite her sky-high heels. Wistful, Sonja wasn't expecting to find anything in a size 17 and she didn't. But she could look, and take some pics with her phone. Maybe her aunts and cousins in Iceland could make something. I'll have to check to see if Zanotti, St-Laurent, or Louboutin take commissions... ,, With that detour over, Sonja finally made it to the specialty sewing machine shop. Idling before the shopfront, Sonja checked the address again on her phone, then frowned. It looked like an inconspicuous store with a very plain, brick facade... Built with a door all the way back when people on average were noticeably shorter than they are now. ,, With a sigh, Sonja climbed out of her car and wondered if they had a loading dock they would be willing to let her use.
  18. Name- Diana Madison Codename- Glacia Nicknames- Ice Maiden, the Snow Queen, Icy, that Cold Bitch(Derogatory) Age- 16 Birthday- 2 -17-1993 Height- 5' 6 Mass- 51 kg (112 lbs) Sex- Female Hair- White, with a touch of blue Eyes- Blue Bloodtype- O- General Appearance This young woman is absolutely beautiful, which, according to her, is something fairly new with her mutant gene's awakening. Her hair is completely white, with a hint of blue to it, which together with her youth makes her age somewhat confusing and hard to isolate. Add into this particular situation her intelligence and general maturity, and unless you know her real age, you might think she's older then she is. Uploaded with ImageShack.us Mutant Origin Diana was an a strong willed and extremely intelligent girl a few years ago, before her family went a cruise ship to Alaska. When they went deep within the mountains of Alaska to enjoy some skiing, they were caught in a terrible snow storm, followed by an avalanche. Everyone except Diana was killed in the accident, and the only reason she was not, was that was the point her mutant gene activated. Even as the avalanche crushed everyone under it, Diana changed, transforming, becoming much colder, and somehow, seemed to be changed. Colder then ice, she reshaped the very ice and snow around her to allow her to survive. Unfortunately, with her family dead, and unable to protect her, the other humans around turned on her, blaming her the disaster, saying that her powers caused it, and they drove her away. They were unable to actually harm her at the time, because she used her powers to defend herself. The school later got in touch with the girl, as she was roaming the wilderness of Alaska and Canada, and asked her to come to them. Incredibly strong-willed and intelligent, she considered their offer for a while, a week in fact, before agreeing and joining them. One of the teachers acts as a mentor, guide and willing ear for the girl to talk to, and is one of the few folks Diana talks too. Personality Diana is cool and distant in her personality, to just about everyone except Daniel(and her Mentor), also known as Hotstreak, the fiery mutant initially got on her nerves, but somehow managed to get though her defenses, and touch her heart, which had felt frozen sense her family died. Despite this, she does care about people, especially her fellow mutants, knowing some of the troubles they have gone through similar to hers. She is also slow and analytical; it takes effort on her part to make quick decisions, but she is very strong willed and almost unyielding once she's made one. Though few folks have discovered this, if a case can be made for some idea logically, she'll often support or allow it, even if it goes against society or cultural norms. Powers She has total control over ice and cold, able to create and shape ice at will, she can even freeze liquid nitrogen out of the air, she's yet to fully explore how strong her power over cold can get. She's also mostly immune to the cold, and can easily just covert her inner energies into cold. In fact, she has a problem not doing so, as she constantly manifests freezing cold around herself, like a aura of it, and her touch is almost painful, like putting one's hand on something so cold it can give you frost burn, those able to keep themselves warm, adapt to temperatures, or immune to cold are the only ones without this problem. She's been trying to control that aspect of her powers, but can't quite manage to, yet. She is also inhumanly tough, adapting to every environment except extremes of heat, and blindingly intelligent, her IQ rates off the charts.
  19. Legal Name: Daniel Brandt Codename: Der Golem Residence: Dresden Marital Status: Single Date of Birth: March 23rd, 1907 Date of Eruption: November 10th, 1938 Sex: Male Height: 5'8” (Human) / 11'4" (Golem) Weight: 153 lbs (Human ) / 612 lbs (Golem) Physical Build/Appearance: Daniel Brandt is of middling height and weight, wearing dirty, worn, traveling clothes, blond haired and blue eyed - giving him something of an Aryan look (but for the fact he is a German Jew.) Catalyst of Eruption: Assaulted by the SS while his store and home were ransacked and his family was murdered during the Kristallnacht (the Night of Broken Glass). Personality Profile / Quirks: Daniel Brandt is a peaceable man by nature, kindly, but since the Kristallnacht, and the past couple of years, he has found himself threatened to be consumed by the desire to make the Nazis pay. A devout Jew, at times he wonders if the Golem form is a test more than a gift from God, to see whether he can check the rage that he often allows to come forth as Der Golem. Distinctive Features: Daniel Brandt seems not too distinctive in appearance, save for scars across both of his cheeks. Der Golem on the other hand, is an utterly distinctive mass of a rock man taller and heavier than two or more normal men combined. Known Powers: While remaining Daniel Brandt, he is a normal human and has no Dynamic abilities. When transformed into Der Golem, Daniel possess extreme resistance to injury, in his rocky form and utterly inhuman strength. General History: Daniel Brandt was born to Samuel and Esther Brandt, who ran a local Dresden sweets shop, as had Samuel's papa too. Daniel from an early age had shown kindly and peaceable traits, reinforced during his youth by the terrible tales of the Great War and the long misery on the home front. ,, In time, he married a good Jewish woman named Rebecca, and they took over a sold building on the other side of the square from their parent's shop to open a bakery. They had three young children, and life could not have been more sedate and pleasant. ,, And then the Nazis began to take power. The Brandts observed the growing ranting, the slurs, and Daniel fervently hoped with naive willfulness that this all would pass, the idiots seen for what they were and cast down. ,, And then Dresden exploded with all the other German cities on Krystallnacht, hoodlums broke into the bakery and dragged the Brandts from their beds upstairs as others smashed their livelihoods into debris. Across the street, Daniel paled as he could hear the screams of his parents and the candy store burning. ,, Daniel feebly protested, was beaten heavily, and the world blurred into a haze, but when Rebecca and his children died, Daniel knew it - and he wondered when God would send protection for those Jews, who like he had been too foolish to be ready to save themselves. ,, Then... anger. Power. Stony certainty. Daniel came to when he was out of Dresden, covered with blood and composed of rock... he knew what he was now. A prophesied Golem. Yet Daniel Brandt, and the Golem were not the same form, so Daniel left, realizing he needed to live on his own and fight the Germans as need be - lest the innocent get pulled in worse.
  20. FROM: Doctor William Erving TO: Director Joseph Horst ,, I know my regular report isn't due for several days, but I really think you need to know now what it'll simply confirm among the materials. ,, Naturally, I can't claim to know the details of Mr. Shreveson and Mr. Kensington's... 'relationship issues', but however, Ross has spent a great deal of time training and being tested with us... and I'm concerned by what I'm seeing. Ross was already observed to have a great deal of kinetic-based potential: kinetic energy bolts, telekinesis, defensive uses of telekinesis, self-levitation, etc. ,, This was in addition to low superhuman levels of agility, reactions, social traits and appearance. Those have remained steadily constant. But his powerset is becoming of increasingly alarming potency. ,, As the attached files indicate: first off, his telekinetic lifting capacity has skyrocketed... with some difficulty weeks ago, Ross could lift a few dozen tons... now he regularly is achieving weight loads of tons in the triple digits. Second, though his kinetic blasts are non-lethal even to baselines when controlled - I must place emphasis on 'controlled.' It takes (fortunately simple as he describes it) conscious effort to limit any energy projection... which renders a battle tank into a near if not complete wreck. ,, A normal person would become nothing more than a smear. Consider that for imagery. And speaking of tanks, Ross' practically reflexive use of kinetic and telekinetic force to protect himself most likely - based on our extrapolations - make even the heaviest of weaponry moot. Shy of a nuclear warhead, but that doesn't lend itself to fruitful thoughts. ,, I swear he's going to break the sound barrier in flight. If there's anything he's going to have difficulty with, it would be novas with potent psychic or energy attacks. ,, In short, I don't know what's going on in his head... but the young man is becoming something of a nova super-weapon, possibly some link between hormones, mood and powers, I don't know. I care for him (he's a kindly individual), and I know you do for everyone in this agency. Consider this a warning, since there are those in our government and beyond with less scruples and heart. ,, Sincerely, Dr. William Erving
  21. Birth Name: Curtis Shane Nick Names: None Aliases: None Calling: Tech Expert Known Relatives: Jesse Shane (Parent), Jeff Shane (Parent) Age: 24 Gender: Male Ethnic Background: Caucasian Nationality: American Height: 5’ 8” Weight: 160 lb. Eye Color: Blue Hair Color: Dark Blonde Handedness: Right Distinguishing Marks: None. Background Curtis was adopted as an infant by Jesse and Jeff Shane, a gay couple in Omaha, Nebraska. When in 5th grade, anti-gay attention angered Curtis, who drew away from others mostly, and focused on his hobbies of computers and electronics. The only exception was working at Jesse's auto shop, where he got along with the other employees. Arguably, it was because in order to prove wrong the 'sissy-man' insults and similar taunts, he joined the military. With his technical expertise, it was not hard to secure a place in the technical ranks of the Air Force. Unfortunately, his admitted hopes of avoiding direct combat were smashed when he was maneuvered into joining the Air Force Tactical Control Party courses and subsequently posted to Afghanistan. That proved to be a difficult time- nay, near catastrophe when a RPG attack downed his helicopter and the unit was under severe attack by a Taliban force for more than a day. Curtis had to indeed shoot and kill for his life, and the experience felt almost more than he could handle. Thus as soon as he could, he finagled a transfer to Material Command and away from the front lines. Then with his technical expertise in full bloom and demonstration, he was tapped for SGC, and admittedly excited to be dealing with alien technologies. Eventually, he was transferred to Atlantis, the biggest joy yet. When he completed a hookup system that allowed the Expedition to interface Ancient computers with laptops, he knew he was in the right place.
  22. Shortly before the DSA Christmas Party Karrie had code-named it the Margarita. First, she loved the drinks, when she was already drunk. Second, she didn’t want to type its real name in her computer. She knew that Horst did spy on her projects. He considered it to be a preventive measure to the Apocalypse. Karrie considered it to be both an annoyance and a challenge. So “Project Get Connor Back” needed a code name. Nervously, Karrie applied her lip stick; not too much, just an accent. Too much make up would make her look whore-y, and from the text messages Inga was sending her, the whores were thick at the party already. Karrie needed to stand out, to be different. She needed to get Connor to realize that while she had fucked up, she was the better choice than Ms. Mega-Lips and the woman you could actually be allergic to. Besides, she’d done her fucking research on Ms. Mega-Lips, and she knew that girl was the Queen of Whores. She was practically the Whore of Babylon, and only the fact that the Anti-Christ hadn’t arrived saved Ms. Muse from being humped to death by Satan. Karrie had a few opinions about Ms. Muse. Those opinions had formed after learning that the woman was spending a lot of time with Connor; the research she’d done had only backed her opinions. After she had it on, Karrie decided it was too garish. Grumbling to herself, she pulled off some toilet paper and removed it. She did a quick check of her outfit again; the black skirt, silky red blouse and black boots were all clean, unwrinkled and lint-brushed. She could have whored it up; she was taking the high road. She was dressed. That left only The Perfume. Karrie held up the test tube, peering at the amber liquid inside the vial. Months of research, experimentation and resources had gone into making The Perfume. Karrie had fretted and worried that it wouldn’t be ready in time for the party, but the monkeys she’d tested it on had fucked for six hours before collapsing of exhaustion. It was as ready as it got. “This is it.” She looked at her eyes in the mirror. “This is the night I get Connor back.” Her stomach curled in anticipation and delight as she considered that in just a few hours, she could have the man of her dreams. Pulling the cap loose, Karrie used an eyedropper to collect a few drops of the perfume. The smell of her favorite scent, sandalwood, filled the air. It was an unusual choice for perfumes, but she’d needed an oil base and this smell calmed her. The scent masked the super-pheromones that she’d infused into the oil, pheromones that would be activated when warmed to body temperature. Something nagged at her, and Karrie stopped before application, peering at herself in the mirror. Something wasn’t right. Rather than assume that her conscious was warning her against trying to manipulate people by effectively drugging them, Karrie’s mind focused on what if it didn’t work. What if it has the opposite effect? What if it made her sick or she broke out in a rash? She’d have to test it. Karrie dragged the glass rod across both sides of her neck, then dipped it again and applied more of The Perfume to her wrist. She was supposed to meet Rob before the party to plan hijinks; she’d ask his opinion. Feeling as nervous as a girl at prom, Karrie capped the vial and slipped it into her purse. The night was almost electric with anticipation and hope for her, and she went to Rob’s lab with an eager smile. The Perfume Innovation 3 Mega-Appearance[12 xp] 1 Enhancement: Seductive Looks [3 xp] 1 Enhancement: Blind Bewitchment (Scent) [3 xp] Quantum 3, Quantum Pool 21 Die-pool: Perception + Awareness Damage: N/A Cost: 10 NP/18 xp
  23. August 16th, Morning Indianapolis, Indiana "Come on, Kev! Get your tits in gear! Just 'cause you're a girl now, you take forever to get ready? Bet you Vy and Amy are waiting on your pretty ass, too. Aren't you?" Taeli scowled at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she deftly twisted her purple hair into intricate braids, binding them to the back of her head with a pair of jeweled hair clips. Long, pointy ears weren't just form, they had function too - through the bathroom door and the door to her and Amaranth's hotel room at the JW Marriott, she could clearly hear the rumbling baritone that belonged to the biokinetically-enhanced-to-near-seven-feet Alan. "Keep your skirt on, Alan, I'm almost ready," she said, opening the bathroom door for a second and pitching her voice to carry, before closing it again. And here I am a stupid, sexy, soprano... It was a tired, resigned thought as she reached down to adjust her breasts inside her bustier, then tugged up at the cups, but it was only a delaying tactic. No amount of fiddling would make her bustier cover more than the little it did. With several months of living as a woman under her belt, Taeli was mostly used to her body now, if still having trouble with all and the type of attention it received. And she certainly wasn't accustomed to dressing like this, regardless of how incongruously comfortable it was - she still preferred loose, unisex clothing that downplayed her taut, stunning curves. Letting her sister talk her into going out to a club in London for her seventeenth birthday at the beginning of August had been a big mistake. But she had been allowed off the Ramillies compound for one of the rare times without a minder and had spent a great weekend with her family, so was in high-spirits and had let herself get lost in the music... Well, suffice to say, at least as far as she was concerned, it definitely was possible to be too sexy for your own good. Really, Kathy hadn't needed to laugh, she might have been used to having some guy grind his hard-on against her ass, but Taeli wasn't! Nor was she used to being propositioned and proposed to so often and so blatantly. Sighing, she studied herself in mirror as she pulled out a small jewelry box out of her invisible Bag of Holding - what her friends annoyingly called her invisible purse. She picked through it, skipping the earrings - which she already wore - adorning fingers with tastefully elegant rings of gold, silver, and mithril, gemmed and not. According to the scientists, it was actually a unique alloy of platinum, osmium, and titanium they couldn't believe was naturally occuring, but to her, it was mithril, the same as the combs studded with sapphires binding her hair. She didn't even consider the circlet - yes, she had a damned tiara! among other things - seeing that as too much. She had to admit, she looked fantastic, if anything, even more attractive than when she had first erupted to her consternation - she could readily believe she had a nymphly heritage. The backless bustier and shoulder-length, fingerless gloves of deep blue leather embossed with arcane patterns of gold contrasted flatteringly with her pale, perfect complexion. Taeli perched easily in the four-inch heels of the matching thigh-high boots, which highlighted her firm, shapely legs and pert behind - at least it gave her something closer to her old, male height. The length of her elegant ears were bedecked with a number of earrings, studs and small hoops and cuffs, and her Luckstone rested snug in the hollow of her throat. In addition to the rings, she had also added a fine gold chain, the gold pendant of a stylized heart - the symbol of Hanali Celanil, the Elven Goddess of love and beauty - resting between her full breasts. She topped it off with a cloak of cloth-of-silver that reached her ankles, trimmed in dark fur and backed with lavender silk. She pulled the final piece of her costume from her bag of holding and clipped it to one of the two belts hanging from her hips. A scabbard of gleaming black shadowtop wood, capped and mounted in mithril, the intricate crossguard and pointed pommel in clear display. She and Vyserian had gotten a special dispensation to wear their moonblades from WotC. She looked sensual without being slutty, fey and exotic, and even a little dangerous, like she could kick-ass and look hot doing it, then would be ready for a ball. She was nervous showing so much skin while not wearing a bathing suit, and had never worn so much jewelry in her life - even if she could picture her PC doing so - but she did look like her character down to virtually the last detail. That had been part of the deal with WotC, that they would all dress in-character while attending GenCon, while they provided the plane tickets and accommodations. She wondered if Liam and Connor were just claiming that to see her strutting around in her fantasy gear. At least they were dressed up too. Then again, she had seen pictures from past cons, they might hardly stand out at all. Okay, that was probably asking too much... Nervous she might be, Taeli was equally, if not more, excited to be here. The compound in Ramillies was beginning to chafe and the gaming group had been talking about attending GenCon since last year. Their eruptions and awakenings had completely disrupted those plans of course. Then Liam and Connor revealed they had gotten in contact with Wizards of the Coast, who, along with their corporate masters at Hasbro, were certainly interested in five young adults who in some ways had become their Dungeon & Dragons characters, especially the two Nova-Elves. There couldn't be better publicity than that, and it would certainly give them a boost to a demographic they were losing to MMOs, as well as attract new gamers to the industry. More importantly - and surprisingly - EuroNet had allowed them to attend, contingent on them being accompanied by minders to keep an eye on their potential assets, one for each nova, and one for the three psiads. Teali blushed, recalling giggling in glee at the news. In her extra-dimensional satchel, she had copies of The Gathering Storm and The Towers of Midnight for the Author Guest of Honor to sign, Brandon Sanderson, as well as a book of artwork for the Artist Guest of Honor, Todd Lockwood, who had been of the artists responsible for the look of third edition of D&D. He had been an influence on her own art style and she had a portfolio of her own artwork too, to show him and some of the other artists attending, as well as the reps at Wizards. She had been interested in being a commercial artist and still was. She had sold a few commissions through her DeviantArt page, but had to close that down after being inundated by requests once it was known she was a nova. This trip was full of firsts for her. Her first convention, her first trip overseas, her first time on a plane. She had been anxious on the plane at first - Thank God that Amaranth's status as a princess meant they had had a charted diplomatic flight all to themselves - enough that she had seriously debated pulling on her boots, since they allowed her to fly, just in case, but refrained the urge. It was silly, she could picture herself flying on the back of a dragon, on giant eagles and griffons, and those had all been exhilarating, yet the plane unnerved her. She'd gotten over it during the last half of the flight though. Mostly. But now she was here and she didn't intend hiding in her hotel room the entire time. Not the least because it was slightly awkward sharing it with Amaranth and Vyserian, even if a few months had made it somewhat easier to deal with her and his predicament. And she was only sharing with them because it would have been even more awkward sharing it with either her minder, or Alan, Connor, or Liam, though all three had been more than eager to do so. Humming lightly, she checked herself in the mirror once more, made sure her cloak was draping properly and leaving her swordhilt clear, then sauntered out of the bathroom and struck a playful pose for Amaranth, that fell somewhere between fashion model and heroic Bladesinger. "So, Ames, think this will do for dressing up as a Moon-elf Bladesinger?" Taeli asked, her exotically accented soprano tinted with hesitant playfulness. Only then did she notice that is wasn't only Amaranth - and Vyserian - in the room. Their minders were there, Kristoff Wyst and Vitalia Rosellini, eyes hidden behind mirrorshades turning in her direction. Alan, Connor, and Liam were there too. Alan McAvoy was seven feet of red-headed barbarian, dressed in a kilt, furred boots, heavy gauntlets, his broad chest criss-crossed with a pair of wide leather bandoleers and an absurdly large - and fake - greataxe on his back. Connor Donovan was dressed in leather armor dyed green, with latex ears giving him mild points and a bow. Liam had dyed his hair white, as well as his sparse, trimmed beard, and was dressed in a white suit, claiming his was the Architect from some movie from about ten years ago. And they were staring at her unabashedly. Taeli's string of vehement curses was in Elven, but was as emphatic as the blush staining her cheeks a pale purple.
  24. City of London Air Raid Precautions Office. December 29th, 1940, 5:45 PM A gentle hand shook Claire Kincaid awake. “Here now, Miss Claire; you’ll ruin your reputation, getting a bit of sleep like that!” The young Scots woman opened her gummy eyes and saw a lumpy grinning face floating over her. “Hullo Graeme.” Grinding her eyes with the heel of her hand, she raised her head up off her cot and peered around the small ARP office set up in an abandoned storefront. “Any other witnesses?” “Nah, your secrets safe with me, miss.” He held out a steaming cup of tea. “Here, I made you a nice cuppa.” Graeme Albertson was the head of Claire’s Rescue Services team; before the Blitz, he’d been a mason, and now he led a team of fellow masons, carpenters and electricians who hit the streets almost every night, helping to drag victims out of the rubble after a raid. To say that she was the oddball would be an understatement; the only female, the only university graduate (and from Oxford, no less!) and the only member of the upper middle class. And at a mere twenty-one, she was clearly the youngest; sometimes she looked like a child playing dress-up in her dark blue coveralls. Claire smiled. “Cheers, Graeme!” Pushing aside the rough woolen blanket, she swung her bare feet down to the floor and eagerly accepted the delightful handful of warmth; the small office was sparsely finished, most of the original furniture having been hauled off. There were two desks, several chairs and of course a radio set, as well as several maps of London pinned to the walls. A handful of electric lamps threw a few bleak pools of light around, but somehow the whole place was oddly homey, at least to Claire; it smelled of pipe tobacco, sawdust and freshly brewed tea. As she sipped her Earl Grey, Claire noticed other members of the team starting to trickle in; Nigel, Alistair, Bob Fuller. The volunteers all fixed themselves tea and murmured to each other. The young Scot frowned at Graeme over her tea. “I don’t like the look of this; are we expecting company tonight?” The big man sighed as he poured himself a cup. “That we are.” He indicated the dull black Bakelite phone on the wall. “The Home Office just gave us a ring; Fighter Command picked up several hostiles on their way across the Channel.” He shook his head. “Bombers, and lots of them.” Claire felt a sinking feeling in her stomach; she took one last sip of tea, and then set her teacup aside. Graeme sucked in a bit of air as he watched her bare feet snake out and fetch her laced-up boots from under the cot, her toes as nimble as fingers, and then slip inside them like they were cozy slippers. Would he ever get used to such sights? Probably not, but the odd young woman had certainly been a godsend these last few months; she could squeeze into the narrowest cracks in the rubble and bring help to the injured the rest of his team might not reach in time. “How long?” Her soft Scottish burr brought the big man out of his reverie. “Oh fifteen, maybe twenty minutes?” He smiled and jerked his head towards the converted basement shelter. “Come along; plenty of room downstairs.”
  25. Hi, I have a doubt, it is about the power named Shred of Teleportation Mastery. I read the power and I am confuced, the power makes to many damage. "The nova must make a reflexive action to touch the target, then roll [ Manipulation+Teleportation Mastery] where each success does [Quantumx2] + (Successes x4) lethal damage." It means that if I teleported the skin of the target and I got 10 success the target receives 600 lethal damage? This is too much damage There is no way to defend against this power? Like roll willpower or something like that
  • Create New...