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Found 21 results

  1. And so it begins ... the guitar player is Henry and the man at the bar is Leland. Use this thread for any kind of table talk for the game.
  2. Marrakesh, Morocco, January 23rd 1929 The seven stood on the gently swaying deck. Swaying wasn't exactly the right term, nor was rolling, heaving, rocking, or any other term developed for the naval tradition. Of course the ship was not a naval ship and that may very well have had something to do with it. The open deck rode not water but wind and the ship, the zeppelin, was not powered by wind but by propeller engines the jutted out from the main body below the helium chamber as a triplicate of nacelles. Marion leaned over the rail in a manner that was neither ladylike nor entirely safe. Somewhere, down five hundred feet below in the teeming throngs was a man who might just might have some suitable ancient texts which would tell them more about the Heart of Darkness. Behind Marion Janos, one arm literally tied behind his back, fenced with Daphne. She was using a wooden sword and comparison to Peter Pan was both apt and humorous. Ben, Catori, and Mia were at the rail beside Marion, though they all stole occasional glaces back. It was hard to not watch Janos in action; his level of physical perfection matched with unparalleled skill made his movements both efficient and beautiful. The zeppelin turn slightly and a whistle sounded as the motors began to slow. The great ship was starting its descent to the mooring and in another twenty minutes they would be able to disembark to Marrakesh proper. The porter came out to the deck, "Tea is served ladies and gentlemen." Ben had arranged for an light afternoon meal and tea to allow them to discuss their research into the shard now that they were soon to arrive. Prior it had been a topic which was only touched upon briefly lest the obsidian object darken their entire journey.
  3. Lee/Ben Your last OOC post (on March 1) said you were having some IRL issues. Your last IC post was March 6. As of now I am putting Ben into piloted NPC mode. Per the abandonment rules please resume activity in the game or reply to me by April 5th to let us know if you will be continuing in this game.
  4. Mother Daddy's special experiment was over, so Daphne began to hum to herself, still watching the movie-man. Then her father started to talk to him, which was even more interesting. Slipping off her chair, she edged closer to the movie-man and his sword. She wished she had a sword. For a moment, Daphne does; it appears in her hand invisible to the adults because it's magic. It's long and pretty, with a pink hilt and butterflies etched on the steel. Grinning, she executed a couple of quick thrusts, making the noises of her vanquished foes in a whisper. The adults couldn't see them either, because... well, that didn't matter. All that mattered was that only Daphne could save the day! Then another shiny caught her eye, and the sword and the enemies were forgotten. She edged closer to the swirling vortex, sneaking around a bit. She had to sneak everywhere; Daddy didn't think she was old enough for some of books she liked to read. Some of the she couldn't read, but the pictures were always interesting. Some were scary, full of scary things, but Daphne was brave; she knew that things in books wouldn't hurt you. Daphne took another quick look around. The Indian lady was messing with her knife, which after the sword just wasn't very impressive. Daddy was still talking with the movie man. Everyone else was messing with books or empty cages. Pleased at tricking the adults again, Daphne edged closer to the vortex. A familiar whisper reached her ears, and the girl froze for a second, unsure she'd really heard her mother's voice. She crept closer still and the orange light from the portal fell on her, its flickering aura drawing her like a moth to flame. She peered in, squinting - and then she saw her. Emma Walton had been dead for a few months, but it wasn't long enough. Daphne had missed her mother terribly, and when she saw her just on the other side of the vortex. Without thought, she squealed, "Mommy!" and jumped into a portal to hell. She landed on loose rock and scree and let out a childish yelp as she fell to her knees. "Ow," she lamented as she examined the scrape. "Daphne!" The voice jerked her head up, as the child saw her mother running toward her. But her mother's face wasn't welcoming; it was afraid. "Run!" Behind her mother were monsters, like from Daddy's book. For a second, the girl was frozen; then she bolted. Terrified, she ran mindless, losing sight of the vortex in seconds. She was in a twisting maze of valleys and cliffs that rose in ugly, ragged formations around her. She ran as hard as she could, like she was chasing butterflies at home, but this was nothing like that. "Daphne! Here!" her mother shouted from the left, and Daphne unerringly changed course, running straight to her mother. She was standing next to a small black hole in the ragged cliff, pointing. "Hide in here!" Daphne crouched by the entrance and peered in. She was scared of the monsters coming, but she was just as scared of the dark, dark hole. "Mommy..." "It's safe, just go! Go!" her mother screamed at her; with a sob, Daphne crawled into the darkness. The cave was small and dry, with a small dead-end at the back. The little girl curled up at end of her little cave, whimpering to herself. After a moment, when nothing came after her, she started to cry. Eventually, her mother crawled in, moving in easily despite the fact that most adults would have gotten stuck. "Oh, my baby," she murmured, pulling Daphne to her. Daphne didn't care that her skin was cold; she cuddled against her mother, wrapping her arms around her. "I wanna go home, Mommy," Daphne moaned on her mother's shoulder. "I know," Emma whispered into her hair. "And someday, I'll get you back. I promise." Daphne's stomach growled as it twisted with hunger. "First, though, some food." Emma went first, stepping out to make sure that there were no monster waiting. When she was sure it was clear, she waved Daphne out and took her by her cold, cold hand. For the first time, Daphne had the opportunity to see where she was. It was an ugly place, with a red sky and pillars of flame. It was hot, and Daphne choked on the smells in the air. Her mother lead her to another cave, hidden high in the rocks. "Never lead a daemon here, honey. This is our safe place." "Ok, Mommy," Daphne said, feeling the seriousness of the moment deeply impress itself into her. "Now, let's get some food," Emma said, leading her outside. There, the two turned over rocks until they found bugs, horrid, crawling thing. "I know this isn't pretty, but you have to eat, ok?" "No!" Daphne protested, backing away. "Honey, please," Emma sighed, holding a writhing beetle firmly in her fingers. "No! I want rolls!" Daphne shouted, tears welling up in her eyes. Emma thought for a bit and nodded. "Ok, we'll try something new." She took Daphne back to the cave and left her there, promising to return. After she'd convinced her daughter to stay, she found a small, hard-shelled daemon, killed it, and butchered it. Then she returned to the cave, built a fire and made a soup in the shell. "That smells funny, Mommy," Daphne observed. "But it's good soup. Just promise me you'll try it," Emma said. Daphne protested, but eventually hunger won. As she eagerly ate the soup, her dead mother watched her with cold, cold eyes.
  5. Please use this thread to keep track of your in game use of Willpower, Inspiration and loss of Health.
  6. Ben's decryption of the cueniform carvings on the Urn: Quote:*unreadable* a great island nation rose in the west *unreadable* *either ruled by or protected by, possibly both* two brothers, M’lek and M’gog, wise in the ways of sorcery. *unreadable* a talisman of great power. Such was the power that *removed/chiseled off* rose to an empire over all the world. For one hundred by three years the brothers shared the talisman. *unreadable* power was such that it began to twist the brother’s against each other. Power begat greed begat envy and envy begat enmity. M’lek and M’gog set upon each other to control the *broken* After seven and ten years of war M’lek slew his brother and held aloft the talisman, now black with corruption, and beheld his empire. Of its citizens only one of every ten stood alive, of its lands fully half were blasted to ruin, of its culture, once wise and benevolent, only death and cruelty remained. M’lek beheld the ruin and beheld his brother, in death now returned to his peaceful countenance, and M’lek wept *unreadable* And thus he named the talisman the source of evil, the Heart of Darkness itself. M’lek used his great magicks and drawing the magic of the world into a great ritual he did sunder the Heart. Into ten and three shards did the talisman break but it was not destroyed only broken. M’lek cast two and ten of the shards to his followers and bade them to carry them to the ends of the earth *unreadable* As the island home of his empire shuddered and crumbled in the wake of the ritual M’lek bound the final shard into a chest, *removed* and together with his home and M’lek slipped beneath the cleansing waters such that he could rejoin his brother in peace. Thus is the fall of mighty Atlantis.
  7. December 23rd, 1928 Sunlight poured through the windows hammering at blinds and curtains and creeping around until the rooms of Abel Manor began to grow bright. One by one the guests and their hosts woke from slumber. Each recalled distinctly one dream that they had had during the night. Unusually clear, it remained fresh as though it were no dream at all. Slowly they each made their way to the conservatory. Here, despite the harsh winter cold outside the greenhouse glass and crackling fire made the room warm and comfortable. Servants brought breakfasts out for all, fruit or eggs or muffins, whatever was requested was available. The butler informed Ben and Marion that their parents had already left on the first boat, they had "run of the house." Ben had arrived last to the table, the butler in tow, between them they carried a half dozen large tomes that the Librarian had selected last evening and the box, still open, with the obsidian shard resting with the black silk and velvet interior. The books were given to those interested in researching Rasputin while Ben himself stared at the box with it's runic script trying to figure out the mysterious language.
  8. Mia: You find yourself in a boat floating down a river that is black and cold as death. You recognize it from the one time before you had seen it, the River Styx. On the right you see nothing, the river simply ends in an impenetrable void of darkness, as though staring into eternity and finding it empty. To the left you see the living world, vibrant and vital. Turning you see Charon behind you slowly guiding the boat down the river. “The darkness, it provides power if you wish to seize it.” Pushing back its cowl you see that the being is not Charon. It is a being completely devoid of features. Black with ill defined edges it is like a personification of the void. It holds out it’s hand and in it is a piece of obsidian, “Take it and the power and knowledge is yours.” Mia puts on her best you-kidding-me expression. "I wasn't born yesterday, buster. Nothing's free. What's the catch?" The obsidian shard seems to float on his outstretched hand. "Catch? You seek truth do you not? You see to uncover that which is secret and bring it to light? What catch is there to your every action as you are now? This will only serve to lay bare those secrets to you and give you the power to uncover truth. Take it, seize what you have sought. Or do not and the truth will elude you." "See, all you had to do was be honest and I'd have listened. Yeah, I chase stories like dogs chase cars. And everyone who gives up anything on a story does it for a reason. If they don't tell you - even after you ask - it's 'cause they don't want you to know. And the less they want me to know, the more suspicious I get of what they tell me." Mia props her feet up and lights a cigarette. "I can find the truth just dandy on my own, slugger. So take a hike." The edges of it's hand closed round the shard, enveloping it in nothingness as though it wasn't there. With a horrid scream the form winks out of existence leaving you alone on the River Styx. **** In her guest room at the Abel manor Mia awoke suddenly from the dream, a disconcerting feeling washed over her momentarily before going away. The room is dark and the manor quiet. The clock on the wall shows that it is only three am. Reluctantly Mia lies down and returns to sleep.
  9. December 21st 1928 The evening sky was already dark the first of the nights stars beginning to sparkle and twinkle in the night sky. With the setting of the sun the temperature on the harbor quickly plummeted into the teens. The waves were whipped into whitecaps by the on shore breeze and the sound of them slapping against the hull of the ship was steady as the craft cut through the murky waters of Boston Harbor. The ferry held a great many passengers all headed to the same location; the island estate of the Able family. Carolers sung to entertain the passengers as men came around with mulled wine, spiced cider, and hot toddys for the passengers. The ferry’s engine chugged along pushing the craft through the icy waters until the Captain rang a brass bell. Passengers quickly moved toward the stern to watch as the craft pulled up to the dock at the Abel Estate. The craft was tethered and its passengers disembarked to the path cut through the waist high snow that wound its way toward the manor house. The way was lit with lanterns in colored glass that festively illuminated the trees. Garlands of silver and gold, glass balls in every color and design made the grounds appear as though a great forest of Christmas trees. The house too was lit with colored lights and decorated with great boughs of evergreen and holly. The guests were met at the door with the sounds of music and the smells of all manner of treats and delicacies. The scent of gingerbread cookies, pies, and roasting meats all mingled in the air with the smell of pine and incense. The living room and dining room were decorated with Christmas decorations including a great green pine strung up with twinkling electric lights and topped with a silver and gold star held aloft by and angel in white. The ballroom however displayed a banner proclaiming “Happy Birthday!” and along one wall was a table with champagne and a cake decorated by the finest bakers in Boston. At the end of the table the guests placed their gifts, some great bow topped parcels, others small oblong shapes wrapped in fine decorative paper. Others were not wrapped at all instead being contained in ornate boxes carved in fine woods or stone. As the guests arrived Benjamin Abel greeted them personally, his sister and parents also thanking their guests at this party to celebrate both the season and his birthday. As Marion welcomed yet another socialite she looked behind her at Daphne who was on her best behavior. The hellhound Spot was elsewhere most likely sleeping in the room set aside for he and Daphne. With only a single ferry to bring guests to and from the island there was a lag between guests and both Ben and Marion had been forced to entertain stuffy businessmen, lawyers’ wives, and members of the wealthy upper crust of Boston. As more guests entered Daphne and Marion were both pleased to see the Count Rakozi enter the room and behind him the Apache woman Catori from the Arkham society. Ben meanwhile was more than happy to greet both Archibald Bannister and Ms. Mia Foster who had also arrived on the last ferry to the island. At last the guests were all assembled and aperitifs, hors d'oeuvres, and drinks were brought around while guests mingled.
  10. Spot was nervous. Daphne wasn't much calmer. In all their travels together in Hell, they'd never experienced something as unsettling and offputting as this... this... thing. Spot turned his head and wacked his nose against the clear stone again; in agitation, he spread his wings and thumped them against the top of the thing. Daphne tried to comfort him, but when she reached for him, the thing turned, and she was rocked into Spot's side. He snarled at her, and she snarled back; for a moment, it looked dangerous, but the hellhound backed down and laid on the seat again. She hadn't been afraid when they'd gotten in it, back at the building where she'd met them. Even the growling and the shaking hadn't bothered her. But the moving... it made her sick to her stomach, like the time she'd eaten the wrong thing in a daemon. And from the whuffing noises Spot was making, he wasn't much happier. Daphne glanced around nervously; this otto-mha-bill was moving way too fast, and she couldn't see why or how to stop it. It seemed inheriently dangerous, and other otto-mha-bills raced by it, right next to it! It was horrifying to the young primative. There was a vague memory of her actually enjoying riding in something like this, but that was buried under her fear and panic. "Marion...!" she whimpered, as Spot clambered to his feet, swinging his head around again.
  11. Superscience - Superscience can be created by true science or as a result of paranormal/magical energies being imbued into the device or substance in question. Advancements brought about by pure science are referred to as Super Science while Advancements created by magic and ALL Innovations are Enchanted items and require Occult Ability Mastery to create (but do not require any other ability Mastery) - Gadgets enchanted with a Knack will have a number of Inspiration equal to its rating+2 and can regenerate 1 point per every three hours. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Occult Skill Doug looked at the Wizard’s nose and did his best not to glance at the man’s eyes at all, something about “windows to the soul” was all Doug knew but that was more than enough to keep him from meeting the other’s stare. - Science can only tell a person so much, as a discipline it is unable to deal with the supernatural. Psychic powers, divine abilities, vampires and werewolves are all phenomenon that science cannot explain. A strong knowledge of the occult will allow a character to identify these phenomenons and determine their origins, weaknesses, strengths, and natures. * Poor: You are aware that magic and the supernatural exist but your knowledge is limited. ** Average: Can tell a werewolf from a vampire and a psychic from a witch. *** Good: You can tell the difference between species of vampires on site and can identify well-known enchantments and magical items. **** Exceptional: You are well versed in the subtleties of the supernatural world and can anticipate major magical events. ***** Superb: Wizards come to you for information. Specialties: Daemons, Psychic phenomenon, Were-wolves, Ghosts, Vampires, Divine powers, enchanted items.
  12. The late October wind blew, cold and steady, through the cloudless night sky. The meager heat of the day quickly blew away turning to an unseasonable chill. Above, the moon was new and the Milky Way stretched low across the sky in a glowing band of misty stars. On the grounds of the Arkham Estate the wind whipped dry leaves into dervishes and scattered them across the wide grassy lawns. Leaves tumbled under, over, and around the myriad of cars parked in the drive and on the lawns. A chauffer hunched deeper into his coat and took a final drag from the stub of a cigarette before dropping to the ground and stamping it out. He turned to the door of the carriage house and exhaled. The smoke, caught in the bluster, curled and swirled away toward the great manor house that rose like some man built mountain from the dark green grass and shrubbery. Within the great manor house the Arkham Historical Society met. Dozens of members from what seemed all walks of life had gathered together. The earlier general meeting had given way to private face-to-face discussions between members and small groups conducting research or experiments. Members sat in lounges to discuss the meaning of ancient texts and debated the proper translation of long dead languages over billards. Others bartered and dealt in artifacts looted from cultures the world over; a clay tablet covered with cuneiform writing was exchanged for a scroll of some sort of leather with texts in Chinese while supposedly mystic gems were traded for the key alleged to open a doorway beneath the Sphinx of Egypt. All of this and more as the members of the Arkham Society moved through the mansion in eddies and currents as complex as any ocean’s. In the basement a group of men and women gathered around a series of intricately formed circles. The ceiling was vaulted, supported by massive pillars that served as a challenge to the structure of the circle, and yet the members compensated, carefully completing the needed structures around the columns. The central circle, inscribed within a hexagram, was inlaid directly into the concrete floor and formed of poured gold and silver; it shone in the flickering candlelight appearing to almost glow with a pale orange fire. Around the center at the vertices of the hexagram were six additional circles drawn in chalk, bone dust, blood, quicksilver, water and fire. Several members continued to work on the outer circles, completing symbols of arcane power and mystic strength; the all-seeing eye here, a pentacle there, symbols of the classic elements and more were carefully drawn to complete the circles. The last of the circles was completed, painted out in a thick flammable jelly that would burn for hours, and the leader of the group clapped his hands together once to call attention. As the last few conversations died out he looked around the room, pausing on each member of the team as well as the few spectators that had gathered to watch this latest experiment. He smiled warmly at his daughter, little Daphne, sitting at a desk in the corner her legs swinging above the floor as she watched the proceedings with great interest. Professor Howard Walton waited for silence to descend before he spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen I thank you all for coming here this evening. I would like to especially thank Mr. Lovecraft for his generous funding, as usual, for the specialty materials needed for this experiment.” He paused allowing for polite applause before continuing, “Also, a special thank you to Ms. Marion Abel, for her unexpected help in determining the last of the symbols needed for the circle of elemental fire. And lastly, to Ms. Catori for her help in the proper ritual sacrifice of the falcon for the circle of air.” Walton paused once more as polite applause rippled through the room before quieting down once more. “If you will all bear with us for a few moments more we are nearly ready to begin. I remind you all,” he said looking pointedly at his child, “To please be quiet during the ritual to avoid breaking the concentration of those involved. In the meantime please find a place to be comfortable and get ready to see what we hope will be a successful experiment.” ***** Above two men quietly sat and sipped fine cognac in one corner of the smoking room. Plush carpeting and supple well cared for leather furniture muffled the other conversations and the fireplace nearby fairly oozed comfortable warmth into the room. Others sat in wingback chairs, reading through tomes both arcane and mundane. Others smoked from pipes or cigars, enjoying the rich flavors of the finest tobaccos. The first man leaned forward finally setting the drink down on an antique table. Charles Fitzroy studied the younger man across from him with intense dark eyes. “Count Rakozi,” he began, his pronunciation and accent impeccable, “I am sorry that I cannot offer you further information regarding your sister. It is my deepest regret that we do not know to where she disappeared.” Fitzroy leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together and peered over them at Count Janos Rakozi. “We will of course support any of your efforts to locate her.” ***** In Boston the small ballroom at the Copley Plaza Hotel was occupied by the Aeon Society for Gentlemen, a group which despite its name was fully one quarter women, and which filled the room to less than half capacity. The deep red carpet and wall hangings contrasted pleasantly with the cream painted walls. The room was pleasantly warm untouched by the wind that howled outside, funneled between the buildings into a gale. The evening was getting late and Richard Slate, the local chapter head, had one last order of business to discuss. Benjamin Abel and Archibald Bannister both wondered just what that last order of business was given that he had taken them aside to discuss it privately. “Mr. Able, Mr. Bannister I need to ask a favor of you.” He checked his pocket watch, a fancy gold affair engraved with the Aeon Society’s symbol. “In just about half an hour a Russian man will be disembarking from a steam liner. Mr. Nikolai Strakovski has an artifact that he is carrying to the States to be researched. He asked for assistance in locating the proper scientists from the Aeon Society. I would consider it a personal favor if you could see him off his ship and back to this hotel.” ***** The wind blew hard off the harbor and onto Rowe’s Wharf. It carried with it the salty smell of the ocean. As it blew past Mia Foster’s face it stole what little heat there was from the air and chilled her to the bone. She turned away and pulled her coat tighter around her trying to shrink down into the warm fur lined collar. The wind was intermittent and it would take only a moment for the gust to die down. She checked the camera hanging around her neck and then checked the sky. Dark, clear, and devoid of anything more than stars it provided little additional light. The ships lights and the lights on the wharf would have to be enough. Mia opened the aperture on her camera all the way and looked for a location to help her hold it steady. Mia grabbed her camera and peeked out around the corner of the building. She snapped pictures of the crew offloading cargo, some in boxes and some simply wrapped in tarps and canvases. A contact had told her that this ship would be here, and that they were allegedly shipping looted antiquities from the Middle East. Mia hoped to get photos of the objects being off loaded from the ship. Photos meant proof and proof meant a story, and a story was something Mia was more than a little interested in. As much as being published and being paid interested Mia the story itself interested her more. The click of the shutter and the sound of the gears as Mia advanced the film somehow made something in her mind click. If these objects were looted from tombs and temples they would not offload at a wharf as public as this would they?
  13. Once I've given you the go ahead post whatever public information the other PCs would know about your character here. This thread will be permanent whereas the Character Creation thread will get deleted once the game starts.
  14. Adventure!: Dark Tidings I’m well aware of what you’ve heard kid. Dr. Hammersmith was experimenting with extracting energy from the universe directly, or that he had tapped into a new form of electromagnetic energy, or that he had discovered a massively efficient power generation device… Truth is that’s all bull, Hammersmith was a madman and those people he had gathered to his mansion that day had no idea what they were going to witness. Most of them are dead now, by design or accident nobody knows for sure. Nobody saw Hammermsith die, and frankly that worries me. I wasn’t there but I know what did happen. See sometime after that day I started hearing things… I got the chance to meet Maxwell Mercer a while back, shortly after the accident. With the right questions I was able to steer the conversation back to Hammersmith. Seems that the nature of his experiment was less “Science” and more “occult”. Mercer does believe that the doctor was intending to tap into a new power source. “Ley lines” he called them, invisible rivers of energy crisscrossing the planet. Spiritual energy, the stuff that psychics and magicians allegedly tap into. The stuff of daemons and nightmares. Do I believe that Hammersmith tapped into the psychic or mystical energy of the planet? Well I would be lying if I said no, after the day of his accident I started hearing things, I told you that. What I didn’t tell you was that I was hearing thoughts from other people. Mercer didn’t speak his thoughts to me, I was able to read his mind. I’m scared now. There are people out there that have become empowered by the energies released by the “Incident”. Some are people like you or I, determined to use their powers for the good of mankind, others have touched something dark, daemonic and turned to amassing power or satiating their own dark desires, while out in the darkness beings long dormant have been awakened…The Hammersmith Incident may have ushered in a new tomorrow, or it may have been Dark Tidings of the days ahead, only time will tell.
  15. All, This thread will be here for you to post ideas for new Knacks and discuss them with the other players and myself.
  16. As I said before I am looking for 4-6 players. Character cration is as in the the books. My only change to the rules are as follows: 1) A character cannot have ability mastery in more than one of the following at character creation: Engineering, Medicine, Science, and Occult. You can gain ability master in the other three with experience after the game has begun. 2) The "Occult" Skill has been added under Intelligence. (see the "Game Details" thread for more information) 3) Occult Ability Mastery is needed to create Innovations of any kind.
  17. Father Patrick O'Mally - Divinely Inspired Patick Seamus O'Mally was born to a working class family in South Boston (Southie). As a child his parents did their best to keep young "Paddy" out of trouble and instill him with a good education but Paddy was a born trouble maker. Getting into fights, mischief, and worse Paddy was a grade “A” juvenile delinquent. When the Great War started in Europe Paddy saw the writing on the wall. He knew that the only way a guy like him could get out of going “over there” would be to join the Church. Amazingly that proved to be one of the best choices in his life. While he had always been a fighter and a trouble maker he did have a strong belief in God and knowledge in his religion as instilled by his parents. He flourished and soon was a full Priest. He requested and was given duty at the parish he grew up in St. Mark’s. When the Hammersmith Incident changed the world Father Paddy, as people now called him, had been at mid-morning prayer. He was instantly filled with divine power and a sense of purpose greater than any other he had felt before. He spoke to the Bishop about his newfound power and was referred to the Knights of the Cross. He still serves as a parish priest in his old neighborhood, but when the need arises he and others of his order go out into the night and battle the forces of darkness.
  18. Hey folks. Last year I attemped to launch an Adventure! game with a little supernatural twist. At the time the site was getting less traffic and I wasn't able to drum up enough players to keep the game alive. You can visit the archive HERE ... I'm willing to try again, due in no small part to the rapid expansion of the site lately and by the return of a dear old freind of mine, Dr. Henry Jones Jr. That said I'd like to hear from people who would be interested in playing. The rule book is available HERE for $12 if you don't have it. I'll be using much of the material I produced for Dark Tidings for this game as well, including some of the character creation changes (altered rules and new skills and organizations). Let me know if you want in or if you have any questions.
  19. Ivan Kowalski's footsteps sounded out on the brick and cobblestone streets. The usual sharp clap was muted into a wet smack by the wet sheen over everything. His footsteps were punctuated occasionally by a splash as he ran through a puddle. The rain came down light and easy, as it had since early the day before, a steady late spring damp drizzle. He thought back to what he had seen just a few minutes earlier, a horror unlike anything he had ever dreamed. He and Father Patrick "Paddy" O'Mally had gone to check up on Mr. Smythe, one of the poorer members of the parish. Father Paddy claimed that he wanted to bring the man some soup and make sure that all was well but something struck Ivan as odd. Perhaps it was the ornate cross that Paddy had worn around his neck, or perhaps it was the chosen time of their visit, Priests were not well known for making simple house calls near to midnight. Whatever reason the Father had for the visit their timing was ideal, or the furthest thing from ideal, it depends on your view. The Father had knocked twice before checking the door handle and finding it unlocked. Ivan and Paddy had entered to find poor Mr. Smythe prone on the floor of his small home covered in what appeared to be his own blood. Father Patrick's crucifix suddenly burst alight with the kind of pure white glow Ivan dreamed would surrounded blessed Mary. Something screamed, or screeched rather, a sound like nails on a blackboard. The light illuminated a gaunt corpse-like figure crouched in the shadows behind the body of Mr. Smythe. Father Patrick has reacted faster that Ivan had seen him move before, faster than men half of the priest’s age. He shoved Ivan back from the door, pushing the crock of soup out of the stunned Pole’s hands accidentally. Before the crock could burst open on the stone door step Patrick had his crucifix in hand and his other wrapped around a small bottle, the kind that he used to carry holy water and holy oil when he needed to visit the sick. The crock hit the stone step with a crack and shattered, spraying its contents outward in a burp of hot broth and vegetables. “Run Ivan! For all that is good and holy, flee!” Patrick cried before charging the abomination. Ivan had stood stock still and watched as the two danced about; moving faster than any two beings had sane right to do. Ivan knew that Paddy had been blessed with Divine power to fight the creatures of darkness but he had never seen what the older man could do until now. “Ivan! Run!” Patrick cried again, snapping the big man from his reverie, “Your strength can do nothing against this foul creature!” And so Ivan ran; fled into the night and rain. Now he began to slow. His hands trembled slightly and Ivan realized that he was scared, though he had heard of the creatures that the Knights of the Cross fought against he had never seen one until tonight. Ivan looked about him, he was standing across from a pub and though he seldom drank he suddenly felt the need for one. He entered the pub and found it to be pleasantly crowded with patrons. He made his way to the bar and fished out some money from his pocket. Looking at the small amount he ordered a beer and settled his frame onto a stool. On the stage a black man strummed out a bluesy tune on a jet black guitar his fingers dancing nimbly over the strings. Ivan looked about him and gave a start; the man down the bar from him had some sort of small animal perched on his shoulder, a little dog of some sort. ***** After a long day performing in the park near the park street T station Leland Wulfenbach, the Sidewalk Illusionist, has retired to a small pub in Southie to drink and forget his worries. Even in the day time it is becoming hard to shake the feeling that time are getting worse. People look less freindly and the children he sees are less healthy. Leland does what he can but he cannot shake the feeling that a pall has come over the world. He sits in the bar, Murphy's, and drinks, his little fox Heydrich sitting on his shoulder. The night is slow and he sits alone listening to the sad music of a black guitarist as he drinks. Sometime after midnight a huge man comes into the bar and gulps down a pint as though it were a shot. He orders a second and pulls out a rosary, praying over it. The man looks scared, and for a man that size to be scared he must have seen somethnig very, very scary Leland thinks. ***** Henry "Crossroads" Johnson walks into the smokey bar and speaks to the owner, the man tells him to set up in the corner and do his thing. Free drinks and $2 an hour to play for the night. Henry takes a chair and moves it over into the corner and takes his black guitar out of its case. He takes a few moments to tune it, the strigs letting out a harsh sound untill he warms the instrument up and gets it tuned. He begins to play and glances at his watch, 7 pm, it'll be a long night but that's not anything he isn't used to. Hours later and it's half past midnight when a large man comes in out of the rain. He looks scared and immediately downs a beer in one go before pulling a rosary, of all things, out of his coat and praying right there at the bar. Down the bar from the large man Henry notices for the first time a tall skinny man with a fox perched on his shoulder.
  20. Adventure!: Dark Tidings I’m well aware of what you’ve heard kid. Dr. Hammersmith was experimenting with extracting energy from the universe directly, or that he had tapped into a new form of electromagnetic energy, or that he had discovered a massively efficient power generation device… Truth is that’s all bull, Hammersmith was a madman and those people he had gathered to his mansion that day had no idea what they were going to witness. Most of them are dead now, by design or accident nobody knows for sure. Nobody saw Hammermsith die, and frankly that worries me. I wasn’t there but I know what did happen. See sometime after that day I started hearing things… I got the chance to meet Maxwell Mercer a while back, shortly after the accident. With the right questions I was able to steer the conversation back to Hammersmith. Seems that the nature of his experiment was less “Science” and more “occult”. Mercer does believe that the doctor was intending to tap into a new power source. “Ley lines” he called them, invisible rivers of energy crisscrossing the planet. Spiritual energy, the stuff that psychics and magicians allegedly tap into. The stuff of daemons and nightmares. Do I believe that Hammersmith tapped into the psychic or mystical energy of the planet? Well I would be lying if I said no, after the day of his accident I started hearing things, I told you that. What I didn’t tell you was that I was hearing thoughts from other people. Mercer didn’t speak his thoughts to me, I was able to read his mind. I’m scared now. There are people out there that have become empowered by the energies released by the “Incident”. Some are people like you or I, determined to use their powers for the good of mankind, others have touched something dark, daemonic and turned to amassing power or satiating their own dark desires, while out in the darkness beings long dormant have been awakened…The Hammersmith Incident may have ushered in a new tomorrow, or it may have been Dark Tidings of the days ahead, only time will tell. I'm looking for 4-6 total players. As GM I try to post once a day or every other day to keep the games moving. System will be largely unchanged with only a couple of house rules.
  21. ...In the "Adventure!: Heroes of Our Time" section. Alex has to step aside for RL reasons and I am going to step up and run a game. Right now discussion is on what kind of game (genre) and the specific ruleset we'll be using (one of the Aeonverse systems) I'll be looking for 5-6 players (I think) and ultimately I hope to be able to do a GM post once or twice a week (probably Wednesdays and Weekends) Everybody is welcome to take a look and do CharGen when we figure out the game specifics, I'll choose characters based on Quality an how well they will fit into the game. Thanks all.
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