TheRaconteur Posted January 8 Clone Share Posted January 8 (edited) Chapter I - Act I: A Shitty Start Sooth Deck: The Cat Effects: None Divination: "One sometimes must act alone to succeed. Curiosity and cleverness can be virtues, but be wary of taking them too far. A challenge may arise that involves both mental and physical dexterity." It should have been a regular Autumn morning in the Cascades. Regular in that it was always Autumn in Fartown, and as regular as regular could be in a Satyrine district that held more than 50,000 of the Vislae, and another 50,000 nons besides. Which meant it could never really be regular at all, for the reclaimed bits of the district simply held too much magic and too many of the magically inclined for regular to ever be anything but extraordinary. The Deathless Triumvirate had shorn the district from the rest of the city for exactly that reason, melting pot and security protocol tied up inexorably together. They'd taken a concentration of raw talent, isolating it from the other Districts of the city in the not unlikely chance that some greater working of magic went wrong and blew the whole thing sky high. As a result of that concentration, the magic of the district was a palpable thing, and not just because of the living spells that could frequently be encountered there. Instead, it formed a sensation in the air that caused the hairs to rise (at least, upon those entities that were possessed of some sort of raiseable hair). So it should have been a regular day, and it wasn't. Perhaps it was the morning light, filtering in through the windows. It was simultaneously too gray, the Indigo Sun hidden beneath layers of cloud or fog, and yet too bright. It left everything feeling flat, muted, as if the life had been drained from it. The weird wane light that occurred when cloud cover and an eclipse happened simultaneously. Indeed, the shadows were strange, flat and soft somehow. Perhaps it was the rushing sound of the wind overhead, far too aggressive for any autumn storm. It sounded more akin to a distant waterfall than any blowing breeze or whipping gust. Those with curtains or shutters would not have understood why, at least until said barriers were drawn back, eyes unfocusing and refocusing as they tried to contemplate what they were seeing. Those without such contrivances would have seen right away, though understanding might have taken a little while longer. At least until the cobwebs were cleared from the eyes, and then they didn’t. As the Indigo Sun poured strangely gray on the horizon, the first cry of alarm went out. A voice more surprised than in fear, confused as to what they were trying to perceive. More voices joined that first, too far away for the words they said to be properly perceived. Peering out windows or opening doors, the denizens of the neighborhood were discovering one after another what had happened during the night. The entire neighborhood had become enwebbed. Outside the protection of house and home, silken strands covered every available surface. Every tree was a mass of silver threads, leaves practically all obscured. Every home was covered from foundation to chimney, every apartment building from sub-basement to rooftop garden. Webs were woven around every blade of grass, thin lines strung from every tower tip to every fountain top and fence post, and all of them glistening with the morning dew. That dew was the source of strange light which suffused everything, the millions of strands of spider webbing sending scintillating light ricocheting in every direction and every color of the rainbow. It was impossibly bright, and yet at the same time far too dark. For the sky above was blotted out, not by spidersilk, but a roiling swirling mass. It took a moment again for the image of what was happening to solidify, a dark cloud in constant motion overhead, and it was only when the noise that it made resolved did clarity come. Ravens. Hundreds of them circled by overhead, perhaps even thousands. The monstrous parliment flew in a tight spiral over the Cascades, its epicenter somewhere directly over their heads. The flock looked like it filled so much of the sky, though from the ground the truth of it was hard to discern. It might have been more, it might have been less. It was from them that the roaring noise was emerging, the sound of countless wings beating the air. They were high enough that it was only a dull sound, but it was a constant, punctuated with an unending chorus of caws. Not all flew. A handful of ravens could be seen struggling within the thicker strands of web, caught by wing or worse and tangled in it. Miserable looking things, they cawed pitifully in distress, hanging like rotten fruit on the vine. Their feathers were everywhere, inky motes of black trapped against the silver lines. Yet no spiders danced over them on eightfold feet, no arachnid presence could be seen clambering their way towards the birds who had been clumsy. Everything was utterly littered in bird shit, of course. One would think it would stink to the high heavens, but mercifully the droppings of ravens carried no stench to all but the most sensitive of noses. All about them as they emerged, they saw other denizens of the Cascades looking about. Some fearfully, others amused, still others just confounded. People picked their way through curtains of spiderweb, batting at the strands or else running into them face first. Others just stared at the sky, enraptured or confused by what they were witnessing. Edited February 26 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aavarius Posted January 8 Clone Share Posted January 8 (edited) Xanah Xanah emerged onto the street in front of the little café her flat was situated above. She then immediately reversed back across the threshold from whence she came and shut the door. She just stood there in the stairwell with her forehead pressed against the exit door. This went on for approximately eternity. Had her sweet old neighbor swung by, Marjolene would have seen Xanah clutching her empty thermos into her breast trying desperately to will the outside world into some semblance of sanity. There wasn't nearly enough precious, precious coffee to deal with whatever fresh hell lie on the far side of this door. It took a god-like effort, but Xanah eventually peeled herself away from the door. She straightened her shoulders, sucked in a breath, smoothed at the front of her leather jacket, and tried the doorknob again. She let the wind out of her lungs in a little hissing sound through her teeth when the outside world proved to still be covered in spider silk and bird droppings. "Shavashti isn't going to come outside for a month," she muttered under her breath. The feline Maker had even less tolerance for this kind of environmental upheaval than Xanah did. It had taken her about that long to come out the last time there had been a thunderstorm in Fartown, which, thankfully, was rare. Stepping carefully through the sticky, terrible mess, Xanah picked her way a few feet down to sidewalk to the entrance of the café itself. Ms. Marjolene's was always open early, so undoubtedly her neighbor had been open for business for a while at this hour. She pushed the door open, and stepped inside. It was always warm and charming amongst the tables, and today was no different. To survive this day, Xanah was going to need a her morning coffee. Blessedly, Marjolene always knew what she liked. "Dear lady," Xanah said upon getting the proprietor's attention. She had just set her thermos on the counter. They had long, long ago gotten past the need to vocalize her daily order. "Might I use your telephone?" Xanah had in mind to give Konstantin a ring. If anyone knew what was going on around here, a captain of the Paresaad was the first person she thought of to find out. And if things turned out well, Xanah might be able to get a favor out of her Order by being a good and helpful member. Character Arcs Aid a Friend Aldrion Phect wishes to rescue his spouse from Shadow, but first he must Uncover the Secret of how such a task might even be possible. I'm too closeted a romantic to tell him I can't resist helping somebody reunite with their loved one. Current StepSomeone needs your help. When a PC friend takes a character arc, you can select this arc to help them with whatever their arc is (if appropriate). The steps and climax depend entirely on their chosen arc. If the friend is an NPC, the steps and climax are lifted from another arc appropriate to whatever they seek to do. If you have a bond with the friend you are helping, this may increase the Acumen earned with each story point by 1. It’s difficult, but possible, to aid a friend with an arc even if that friend is unwilling to accept (or is ignorant of ) your help. The majority of the cost, story points, and rewards for a character with this arc are the same as those described in the original character arc. Cost: Agreeing to Help. You pay a cost of 2 Acumen. Opening: Answering the Call. 1 Acumen reward. Offering to help (or responding to a request for help). Step(s) and Climax: Depends on the friend’s arc. Acumen, Joy, and Despair rewards are the same for you as for the friend. Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You speak with your friend and learn if they are satisfied. Together, you share what you’ve learned (if anything) and where you will go from here.: Agreeing to help Description Appearance Xanah and the possessions on her person lose color saturation in proportion to her amount of sunlight exposure. She's completely grayscale in broad daylight. She otherwise sports a head of medium-length red-brown hair, copper colored eyes, and a fair complexion. Xanah is of unremarkable height and build, a slim physique that belies a lifetime of overindulging. It's only her constantly moving workaholic ethic that keeps her in shape. Her clothing usually favors practicality and comfort, never one to indulge in fashionable fads. Ever conscientious of her habits, Xanah always smells faintly of cinnamon and spice. Personality Lives on coffee, cigars, and favors. Fiercely individualist to a fault. A tarnished heart of gold. Tendency to overindulge. A patron of lost causes, shooter of troubles, slayer of dragons, walker of tightropes, and runner with scissors. Banned from kitchens across the Actuality for abject culinary incompetence. Never met a stranger before but carefully chooses close friendships A closeted romantic, almost disgustingly so. Her sharp tongue and compulsion to kick hornets' nests and turn over rocks makes many enemies. In her Order she's been demoted twice for it. Occupation Xanah describes herself as "creatively entrepreneurial," which is to say she doesn't actually have a traditional occupation. As previously mentioned, she lives off favors. These keep her constantly busy juggling a tangled web of commitments, investments, activism, and odd-jobs that she's perfectly satisfied living in the middle of. Income can be wildly inconsistent, but she's never been one to require much in the way of creature comforts. She's just as likely to blow a windfall on a hopeless cause as she is to devote it to a strategic endeavor. "Money," she says, "is just a means to an end, grease for the skids." She toys with the idea of running for office but talks herself out of it, saying that nobody would vote for her anyway. Despite her modest self-assessment, the growing network of contacts she's been developing suggests she might get more support than she realizes. Dichotomies Wealth or Fame - "It's all in who you know." Friends or Family - "I don't make close friends easy, but the few I have are basically family." Power or Control - "I'm the spider dead center in the web." Introvert or Extrovert - "There's nothing I love more than good company." Order or Chaos - "A little strategic chaos keeps the omnipotent busybodies from getting too comfortable." Freedom or Safety - "'Live free or die trying', I say." Society or the Individual - "Society is people. Make a difference for one and you make a different society." Generosity or Greed - "You give a little to get a little. Sometimes, well...sometimes people need me to give a little more." Moral code or Instinct - "Scruples are what separates man from the animals." Ego or Id - "Can't honestly say I've ever been accused of temperance or self control." Nature or Nurture - "Pro tip: Yes, it's your fault and you can do better." Thought or Action - "I'm a make-it-up-as-you-go kind of gal." Instinct or Knowledge - "My gut has never let me down about what the right thing to do is." Charity or Self-sufficiency - "Everybody needs somebody sometime." Home or the Road - "Give me a warm house and somebody to share it with on all the days that end in 'Y'." Contentment or Challenge - "Look, I don't go crusading for lost causes. They seek me out. They know I"m easy." Pools Injuries: [ ] [ ] [ ] Wounds: [ ] [ ] [ ] Anguish: [ ] [ ] [ ] CERTES QUALIA Accuracy: 3/3 Movement: 1/1 Sorcery: 5/5 Interaction: 4/4 Physicality: 3/3 Perception: 4/4 Intelligence: 1/1 Sortilege: 3/3 Hidden Knowledge: 12 Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Edited January 10 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ganurath Posted January 9 Clone Share Posted January 9 (edited) Aldrion Phect Aldrion first exited his tower a ways above the ground, specifically on the patio. His bathroom window may have looked out away from the rest of the Cascades, but his tower was of the Cascades, and the webbing had been thorough. Still, he hadn't been entirely prepared to see the full extent of the webwork. Fortunately for him, the extent of the webbing gave him enough pause to take note of the bird flock, and the much less welcome cascade they'd inflicted on the neighborhood. Or, more specifically, his patio. Seeing the hazard of stepping out, and suspecting he might need to conserve his sorcery until the avians responsible were gone, Aldrion opted to take in the state of the neighborhood from within the doorframe. Webs and waste abounded, and now that he was taking things in, he noticed that at least one person had gotten up ahead of him. Getting to her would be a bit of a process, though. "...I guess there are worse reasons to need your sword out." Aldrion turned and went back inside, quickly adding his various tools and ephemera to his person. The box might scare away birds for a time, while the string- Well, his sword would likely be better for getting around the webbing. The Orb's utility, of course, lie with the capacity to keep him going. He'd bring the rest along, too, just in case the day had more to surprise him with. Giving his goggles a fresh wipe with a corner of his coat, Aldrion pushed his ground floor door open. The area underneath the patio was a haven against droppings, at least, but gaps between solid structures tended to invite threads of silk. Using it more like a stick than a blade, and mindful not to hit any part of his home, Aldrion started using his sword to clear a way from his door, and toward the nearest neighbor that he knew to be up: Ma'am. Character Arcs Uncover a SecretThere is knowledge out there that you want. This arc is a great way to get one of the secrets in the chapter Character and House Secrets that the GM has said aren’t readily available. Likewise, it could be an attempt to find and learn a specific rare spell or ritual. This could also be a hunt for a lost magic word or key that will open a sealed door, the name of a devil, the secret name of an important person, or just how the arabast fashioned their windows in ancient times. Cost: Seeker. You pay a cost of 2 Acumen. Opening: Naming the Secret. 1 Acumen reward. You give your goal a name. “I am seeking the lost martial art of the Khendrix, who could slice steel with their bare hands.” Step(s): Research. 1 Acumen reward. You scour libraries and old tomes for clues and information. Step(s): Investigation. 1 Acumen reward. You talk to people to gain clues and information. Step(s): Tracking. 1 Acumen reward. You track down the source of the secret information and travel to it. Climax: Revelation. 2 Acumen reward. You find and attempt to use the secret, whatever that entails. A successful resolution results in 1 Joy. Failure results in 1 Despair. Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You contemplate how this secret affects you and the world. - Current Step: Seeker Description Aldrion prefers to cover up, as his time in the Shadow working in repairs instilled him with an appreciation of proper protection. He has a scar over one eyebrow, presumably from a narrow miss taken during the war. He favors a style that mixes plain colors with the odd splash of supernatural hues, often in shades of or near indigo in representation of his newfound appreciation for the truth. Pools Certes Accuracy: 2/2 Movement: 3/3 Physicality: 2/2 Perception: 2/2 Qualia Sorcery: 8/8 Interaction: 3/3 Intellect: 3/3 Sortilege: 3/3 Hidden Knowledge: 12 Injuries: Wounds: Anguish: Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Edited January 10 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gryphon173 Posted January 9 Clone Share Posted January 9 (edited) Shuistliel Shuistliel's first reaction to this new madness was to remember -- dimly -- a fiction novel with the words "Don't Panic" on the cover. His pounding heart and panicked reaction put that idea to the lie. It wasn't the webbing or the big flock of ravens that was the worst. It was the absence of the Truespider whose home he was for some reason allowed to live in. The Truespider was far, far beyond Liel's own abilities, and the webbing kind of spoke to the Truespiders of the region doing something together, so his very first thought was try to ask the Truespider what the hell's going on. That wasn't going to be possible. Reminded yet again that he needed to build more social bridges, he decided to try to get to Xanah's house and see if his former classmate had any idea of what was going on. This was a situation that might require an axe instead of a sword, so he strapped the survival axe that had somehow followed him from Shadow onto his belt, gathered up his hat and his Ephemera, and went out of the door. "Huh. My house is the only one I can see without web on it," he said aloud, splashing through the shallow water of the fountain. He climbed up the familiar statue at the pinnacle of his house's exterior and looked around and up at the skies. The Bastion, fortunately, was aptly named as it was on one of the high points in the Cascades. That put him closer to the whirl of ravens overhead, but also should give him a good view of the web-covered streets. This put him in a good position to see Xanah moving about the cafe. Smiling, he climbed down the fountain and stepped from the threshold to the street, being careful to pick his way through the webs. His home was home to spiders as well as Truespiders -- the two seemed to always go together -- so Shuistliel knew the last thing he wanted was to send tremors up one of the main trunk lines. God only knew what was up there, invisible at present, to feel it and react. Character Arcs Develop a Bond: Shuistliel realizes he has too few friends, and would like to expand his circle of true friends. Description Shuistliel is a very handsome man with long silver hair and green eyes the color of fine emeralds. He is dressed as he usually is, in a nice suit, jacket, and pants, and he has his usual snake-headed cane along. He moves quite agilely, like a dancer, perhaps. What's unusual this morning is the black survival combat axe carried in one hand while the cane is tucked under an arm. He is using the blade along the curved back of the axe -- which is apparently quite sharp -- to sever webs, but he's carefully avoiding severing certain ones. (Those who know anything about spider webs know that these are the radial ones used to detect prey, rather than the axial ones that trap prey.) Pools Certes Accuracy: 3/3 Movement: 3/3 Physicality: 2/2 Perception: 3/3 Qualia Sorcery: 4/4 Interaction: 3/3 Intellect: 3/3 Sortilege: 3/3 Hidden Knowledge: 10 Injuries: Wounds: Anguish: Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Edited January 10 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TheRaconteur Posted January 9 Author Clone Share Posted January 9 (edited) Chapter I - Act I: A Shitty Start Sooth Deck: The Cat Effects: None Divination: "One sometimes must act alone to succeed. Curiosity and cleverness can be virtues, but be wary of taking them too far. A challenge may arise that involves both mental and physical dexterity." Opening their respective doors, the Vislae were instantly assailed by the bitter cold of a crisp Autumn morning. Their breath billowed out of their mouths like dragon's fire, vapors condensed and visible, more moisture pulling life giving heat from their bodies. It wasn't dangerously cold, but it was certainly a shock for those whose dwellings had internal heat. For those that didn't, it was vastly less of a surprise. They'd likely awoken to it under a mountain of quilts and bedding, what extremities had kicked out from beneath the impromptu mountain of blankets ice cold. From within that bastion, the roaring wind of the raven's wings would likely have been a distant and perhaps even calming noise. Luckily the cold was the only thing that assailed them, for their exits from their various domiciles did not go unnoticed. The parliament squawked a hundred challenges at each figure as they stepped through their front doors, but the matter was apparently settled there. No contingents broke off from the main flock to assault the Vislae, be it with dive bombed attacks of pecking beaks and gouging claws, or other less savory means. Whatever they were looking to do, whatever their purpose was, it didn't appear to involve the Vislae denizens of the Cascades. The initial condemnation was all the birds offered, though they maintained a constant series of cries, clucks, and warbling croaks to one another. The dew coated everything, and as each attempted to pick their way through the strands of webbing they quickly realized what a blessing it was to their passage. Had it not been there, iridescent in the morning light, the strands of silk would have been practically invisible. Images of walking face first into webbing not previously seen might have flashed through all their minds, along with the sudden shock that usually accompanied such a surprise. The itch at the back of the neck that was possibly the product of an overactive imagination, but just as likely the sensation of a spider who had come along with the snow broken strand. There was certainly an abundance of strands in their path, no walkway or sidewalk was truly accessible. Navigating this was possible, but required a lot of waving around if one didn't wish to end up covered from head to toe in spider silk. As each Viselae walked, they would need to decide just how they were going to manage it. Aldrion had already found a means, but the others would need to ass well unless their plan was just to get covered. They weren't the only people outside, but they were certainly the only ones out on the road. No, that wasn't rue either. As they navigated the gauntlet of spider webs they heard the now familiar sound of Stan the Tinker's Tin Cart jangling along the cobblestones. Broad shouldered and hunched of back from his labors, both working at the cart he pulled and actually pulling it, the Maker was making slow progress as he walked slowly down the road. The reason why became apparent as he drew nearer. In one stained hand he held a magnifying glass, and in the other a tiny pair of silver scissors. With the latter he was carefully stopping to snip at each thread or strand he encountered, clearing the way for himself and his cart. He waved cheerfully with the scissors at any who caught his attention, but otherwise appeared completely focused on the task at hand. As Xanah opened the door, more than just warm air enticed her in. Ms. Marjolene's was always a treat for all the senses, though the Beguiler's talents lay entirely in the gentle and alien music that always filled her establishment. Everything else, from the smell of muffins fresh out of the oven to the paintings of golden sunrises which lined the walls, was perfectly mundane. Magical in its own way, but mundane "You're welcome to use it, Hun." The proprietress responded, gesturing towards a rotary phone that hung on the far wall of the café, nestled between a seaside sunspace painting and another focused on capturing a sunrise lost within falling autumn leaves. Her voice was warm, with just a hint of smoke, as it always was. "But I think Arleen got into it last week, cause it's been acting up something fierce." Shuistliel was perhaps only thirty paces behind, opening the door and being assailed by the same bounty of sensations just as Marjolene turned to check on the oven. It was slow work meandering across the yard, but once Aldrion made it out to the street most of the webs were gone. The few big threads that extended from his House to the fountains in the courtyard were easily avoidable. Of course, his eyes needed to be at his feet as well as around his person, as the ground was littered with the droppings of ravens, as well as a host of other detritus. The street had never been empty, yet so cluttered. Ma'am's place was a single story affair with a wooden picket fence, though this was covered in pieces of stained glass wrapped in copper. These ranged in size from the that of an Orb to slightly larger than the palm of his hand, in a variety of orange, yellow, red, and purple hues. They had all been roughly sanded so that their surfaces weren't reflective, an acknowledgement of the danger of mirrors, yet as Aldrion drew near he could have sworn he saw his goggled and covered face peering back at him from a handful of them. Just the purple ones, strangely. The titular Ma'am could be heard shuffling about in the back yard, mumbling to herself, though her words were hopelessly lost over the roar of countless birdwings. Prompts: What does your Vislae look like, and (with the exception of Aldrion) how are they maneuvering through the webs? Edited January 9 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gryphon173 Posted January 9 Clone Share Posted January 9 (edited) Shuistliel Shuistliel is a very handsome man with long silver hair and green eyes the color of fine emeralds. He is dressed as he usually is, in a nice suit, jacket, and pants, and he has his usual snake-headed cane along. He moves quite agilely, like a dancer, perhaps. What's unusual this morning is the black survival combat axe carried in one hand while the cane is tucked under an arm. He is using the blade along the curved back of the axe -- which is apparently quite sharp -- to sever webs, but he's carefully avoiding severing certain ones. (Those who know anything about spider webs know that these are the radial ones used to detect prey, rather than the axial ones that trap prey.) Character Arcs Develop a Bond: Shuistliel realizes he has too few friends, and would like to expand his circle of true friends. Description Shuistliel is a very handsome man with long silver hair and green eyes the color of fine emeralds. He is dressed as he usually is, in a nice suit, jacket, and pants, and he has his usual snake-headed cane along. He moves quite agilely, like a dancer, perhaps. What's unusual this morning is the black survival combat axe carried in one hand while the cane is tucked under an arm. He is using the blade along the curved back of the axe -- which is apparently quite sharp -- to sever webs, but he's carefully avoiding severing certain ones. (Those who know anything about spider webs know that these are the radial ones used to detect prey, rather than the axial ones that trap prey.) Pools Certes Accuracy: 3/3 Movement: 3/3 Physicality: 2/2 Perception: 3/3 Qualia Sorcery: 4/4 Interaction: 3/3 Intellect: 3/3 Sortilege: 3/3 Hidden Knowledge: 10 Injuries: Wounds: Anguish: Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Edited January 10 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aavarius Posted January 10 Clone Share Posted January 10 (edited) Xanah Xanah frowned at the phone as she took it off the hook. Their mutual landlord was surprisingly energetic for a dead man. Xanah hoped the line wasn't on the fritz because the poltergeist had been haunting all the aethyric devices in the building again. She dialed Konstantin, then tucked the receiver between her ear and her shoulder while she waited for him to pick up. Absently, she pulled at a strand of spider silk that apparently had gotten wrapped around her jacket sleeve on the way over. She did a terrible job suppressing her disgusted expression while she tried to shake it off her fingers. All she managed to do was get it stuck to her hand instead of her arm. Xanah had her back to the door when Shuistliel came in, so she didn't notice him. He could see that today the all the webbing outside diffused the sunlight level enough that she was actually in color for once. Usually she would grayscale the brighter it got outside. Her red-brown hair was tied up behind her head. Not surprisingly, she was in that feminine-looking brown jacket he always saw her with, probably concealing a shoulder holster underneath. She had on fitted, comfortable looking trousers and flats on her feet. Liel could also see that she had missed a couple more spider webs that were stuck on her back where she couldn't see to peel off. Character Arcs Aid a Friend Aldrion Phect wishes to rescue his spouse from Shadow, but first he must Uncover the Secret of how such a task might even be possible. I'm too closeted a romantic to tell him I can't resist helping somebody reunite with their loved one. Current StepSomeone needs your help. When a PC friend takes a character arc, you can select this arc to help them with whatever their arc is (if appropriate). The steps and climax depend entirely on their chosen arc. If the friend is an NPC, the steps and climax are lifted from another arc appropriate to whatever they seek to do. If you have a bond with the friend you are helping, this may increase the Acumen earned with each story point by 1. It’s difficult, but possible, to aid a friend with an arc even if that friend is unwilling to accept (or is ignorant of ) your help. The majority of the cost, story points, and rewards for a character with this arc are the same as those described in the original character arc. Cost: Agreeing to Help. You pay a cost of 2 Acumen. Opening: Answering the Call. 1 Acumen reward. Offering to help (or responding to a request for help). Step(s) and Climax: Depends on the friend’s arc. Acumen, Joy, and Despair rewards are the same for you as for the friend. Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You speak with your friend and learn if they are satisfied. Together, you share what you’ve learned (if anything) and where you will go from here.: Agreeing to help Description Appearance Xanah and the possessions on her person lose color saturation in proportion to her amount of sunlight exposure. She's completely grayscale in broad daylight. She otherwise sports a head of medium-length red-brown hair, copper colored eyes, and a fair complexion. Xanah is of unremarkable height and build, a slim physique that belies a lifetime of overindulging. It's only her constantly moving workaholic ethic that keeps her in shape. Her clothing usually favors practicality and comfort, never one to indulge in fashionable fads. Ever conscientious of her habits, Xanah always smells faintly of cinnamon and spice. Personality Lives on coffee, cigars, and favors. Fiercely individualist to a fault. A tarnished heart of gold. Tendency to overindulge. A patron of lost causes, shooter of troubles, slayer of dragons, walker of tightropes, and runner with scissors. Banned from kitchens across the Actuality for abject culinary incompetence. Never met a stranger before but carefully chooses close friendships A closeted romantic, almost disgustingly so. Her sharp tongue and compulsion to kick hornets' nests and turn over rocks makes many enemies. In her Order she's been demoted twice for it. Occupation Xanah describes herself as "creatively entrepreneurial," which is to say she doesn't actually have a traditional occupation. As previously mentioned, she lives off favors. These keep her constantly busy juggling a tangled web of commitments, investments, activism, and odd-jobs that she's perfectly satisfied living in the middle of. Income can be wildly inconsistent, but she's never been one to require much in the way of creature comforts. She's just as likely to blow a windfall on a hopeless cause as she is to devote it to a strategic endeavor. "Money," she says, "is just a means to an end, grease for the skids." She toys with the idea of running for office but talks herself out of it, saying that nobody would vote for her anyway. Despite her modest self-assessment, the growing network of contacts she's been developing suggests she might get more support than she realizes. Dichotomies Wealth or Fame - "It's all in who you know." Friends or Family - "I don't make close friends easy, but the few I have are basically family." Power or Control - "I'm the spider dead center in the web." Introvert or Extrovert - "There's nothing I love more than good company." Order or Chaos - "A little strategic chaos keeps the omnipotent busybodies from getting too comfortable." Freedom or Safety - "'Live free or die trying', I say." Society or the Individual - "Society is people. Make a difference for one and you make a different society." Generosity or Greed - "You give a little to get a little. Sometimes, well...sometimes people need me to give a little more." Moral code or Instinct - "Scruples are what separates man from the animals." Ego or Id - "Can't honestly say I've ever been accused of temperance or self control." Nature or Nurture - "Pro tip: Yes, it's your fault and you can do better." Thought or Action - "I'm a make-it-up-as-you-go kind of gal." Instinct or Knowledge - "My gut has never let me down about what the right thing to do is." Charity or Self-sufficiency - "Everybody needs somebody sometime." Home or the Road - "Give me a warm house and somebody to share it with on all the days that end in 'Y'." Contentment or Challenge - "Look, I don't go crusading for lost causes. They seek me out. They know I"m easy." Pools Injuries: [ ] [ ] [ ] Wounds: [ ] [ ] [ ] Anguish: [ ] [ ] [ ] CERTES QUALIA Accuracy: 3/3 Movement: 1/1 Sorcery: 5/5 Interaction: 4/4 Physicality: 3/3 Perception: 4/4 Intelligence: 1/1 Sortilege: 3/3 Hidden Knowledge: 12 Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Edited January 10 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Amora Posted January 11 Clone Share Posted January 11 Felicia Ainsworth The shiver ran down her spine like lightning and an awkward, stiff pain followed in its wake like thunder as a rude awakening by parliamentary action drilled from one temple to the other. The Chorus, in kind, stirring and clawing at the edges of the mind like tainted ground water surging up through the mud. Each voice competing with the next; twisting, churning, burning within the depths of the soul and at the peripheries of her awareness. A riotous mess of faces flickering behind her eyes and perceiving the world through the bleary lens of those same eyes as the mind journeyed up and out of the sea of fitful dreams to the no less malleable reality of the Actuality… Only to be greeted by the co-opted distortions of her reflection smiling back at her with teeth too sharp and too numerous by half and eyes like smoldering coals… Both lifeless and overburdened with a wicked cast to its shark’s smile as it raised a single finger and pointed towards the windows. The meaning of the message was lost in the fugue of receding sleep for just a moment before the reflection returned to that of her own overtired features; sharp, handsome, elfin and dominated by eyes of crimson and gold that seemed to hold a thousand more stares than just her own… The ancient and manifold malice radiating outwards in the hazy spiral of crimson and gold that merged in the depths of those windows to a haunted and crowded soul. Felicia wasn’t given long to consider her own state of disrepair, however, as the feeling of too hot hands pressed against either side of her head. Turning it towards the windows with non-too-gentle a manner that brought out the creaks and pops of stiff and sore neck… The light that filtered through those artisanal panes, the handiwork of her absent clan, were striated and strangled by something beyond. Comprehension came as quickly as a visceral kind of horror that crawled up from the depths to the whooping laughter of the Chorus of Whispers that seemed all too eager to compete with a noise not from within the crowded confines of her own skull but from without. The sound of far too many ravens, an avian convention that defied the reason and the season as far as she knew them despite. Horror transitioned soon to a certain small minded anger as the Maker forced herself to her feet, the action assisted in a most unhelpful way by too hard a shove to the small of her back that sent her staggering forward towards the window. The sudden acceleration seeing her nearly trip upon the disordered wreckage of her prior night’s work in the form of palette and scattered brushes, pencils, painter’s knives and more things yet beside. Such only served to bring the mind fully around then and awaken the indignant will of the Vislae fully as it crashed back and down upon the unruly legion that she shared her body with. The demons of her soul wisely, save for the oldest and strongest, retreating to the depths where she might not reach them or simply opt to ignore them. Her mind clear save for the cajoling, tempting, and taunting few that remained turned to the matter of the window with the grim suspicion that there’d be more than just… whatever was obscuring the window to clean if the cacophony of an unruly parliamentary session was to be any clue. The revelation that it was… multiple webs layering one over the other across the window panes tickled at some part of the mind and soul to awaken a perverse anxiety of entrapment that took a moment to force back down as she undid the latches. A moment later she was able to, with no small effort, push the window outward and open to get a better idea of just how… extensive the industrious little creatures might have been. The answer wasn’t much of a comfort with everything else upon the list of things to do when it came to the empty and neglected seat of her clan. That same anger, or perhaps better called annoyance, set her jaw to working gently with soft clicks of fine teeth upon teeth… One of the demons, Isrind, all the while whispering in a voice of fire and desert heat of how easy it’d be to turn her back on all of it… Just cast a little torch into it and witness the transformation from state to state and finally to ash. Just like, it seemed, was the fate of her whole clan. Consumed by some event save for the disquiet dead that clung to the whole rotting edifice as some kind of anchor of undead purpose. There were too many questions if she was honest and terribly few answers between her own memories of the Actuality being tarnished and faded by the obliviating touch of the Grey and the surprisingly, worryingly imprecise recollections of Oglyos… The creature ostensibly responsible for chronicling the whole of the history of the bloodline… Who now couldn’t even answer the question of just where everyone had gone? What had happened? Were they safe? Was she really of the clan or were the spirits that recognized her addled by their deadened state? She shook her head to banish the thoughts… There was madness that way and she just needed to be in motion, to focus, to brace. Reaching out for the handle, the Maker pulled the window shut and sputtered as threads of wind blow silk struck to only further foul the mood no matter how many calming breaths she could take or mantras she might utter. The Chorus all too happy to pounce on the distraction before shying back metaphysically from the Vislae’s now burning indignation as she steadied herself again and walked, rather than stormed, towards her wardrobe. With all the decisions made for what she would be doing today, there was really no place for anything but the practical. The cold of the season didn’t bother her for the fire she’d captured within her soul but she still dressed anyway to the season with white blouse beneath a charcoal jacket and jeans with a sensible flat. There was nothing to impress and everything to destroy, a facet of the situations that the Chorus found no small pleasure in as even the most minute of such transformative, destructive change was appealing to them in contrast to the works of creation that were their host’s bread and butter. All that was left was a tool for the occasion and fortunately… She’d found a small closet filled to the brim with all manner of equipment to tend to the hedges. So armed with a pair of shears and a pole saw for the things just out of reach, Felicia navigated the twists and turns of the antique halls of her home to the double doors and peaked out to better assess the mess and chaos. Only then catching a glimpse of whatever Ma’am had gotten up with her strange little jig and tossing about this or that in search of something. Character Arcs EstablishmentYou want to prove yourself as someone of importance. This can take many forms—socially, within your order, financially, or even romantically. Cost: The Need for Proof. You pay a cost of 2 Acumen. Opening: Assessment. 1 Acumen reward. You assess yourself as well as who you need to prove yourself to. Step(s): Appearances Matter. 1 Acumen reward. You improve your look. Enhance your wardrobe. Spruce up your house. Whatever it takes to get attention from the right people. There might be many such steps. Step(s): Self-Aggrandizement. 1 Acumen reward. You need to get the word out to get people talking about you. There might be many such steps. Climax: Grabbing Attention. 3 Acumen reward. You do something big, like host a party for influential people or produce a play that you wrote. You make a big splash (1 Joy) or a big crash (1 Despair). Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You reflect on what you did and where you go from here - Current Step: The Need for Proof Description Description It's the eyes, really, that most fixate upon first. The hues of crimson and gold spinning, twisting, merging in their depths as they seem to give a clear window into the utter depths of Felicia's mind with their uniquely expressive quality. That there feels to be a thousand, a hundred thousand, pairs of eyes staring back from behind those initial windows to the soul only seems to cement the impression of something troublesome, something worrying to compliment the elfin quality of her sharp features and diminutive frame. That sensation of malice, of gleeful cruelty, welling up from somewhere in those depths even as she comports herself with nothing but cheerful, if stoic, mannerisms and inexhaustible impressions of attention to the minute aesthetics of every gesture, motion, and twist of both herself and the world around her. In matters of garb, she tends to play to the company she plans for with blouses, dresses, and pants of riotous colors among the bohemian communes of Fartown to the carefully coordinated yet still somehow esoteric gowns and suits of high society galas and soirees. Each and every ensemble meticulously planned and coordinated like one of the great works of her brushes. The only break from this carefully crafted aesthetic seems to be her hair, pale and bloodless as her complexion. It's length healthy, glossy, and well tended but cursed with creative differences in how it curls and falls. Despite this, it seems always to blend, practically meld, seamlessly into any trim of fur or feather that might adorn a chosen outfit. Like those glimpses of alien malice and cruelty in the depths of her eyes, there always seems to be a discordant element that shadows her. Whether it be a flicker of something other in the crimson depths of her eyes, the way her shadow seems to twitch and twist without her ever moving, or how her reflection never quite seems to be her... It becomes all too clear that her body and soul might be host to something besides merely the artist... Worse still is the careful and delicate work of brush and needle; whisking away bruises here, deep scratches or cuts there, all damning evidence of struggles with the self. In the Guise of Immanis The energies of the Abyss are, by its very nature, an instrument of the Dark and unkind as a rule to the essential fabric of whatever is and may be. It is only by the tempering elements of the Gold Sun that the taking in of such hostile energies is more than merely an elaborate form of suicide. The raw stresses of this are quite evident then when Madame Ainsworth invokes so terrible a spell. Her already pale skin grows to be a lifeless gray, gaining an unseemly translucence that is easily pierced by even the wane light of Fartown beneath the Indigo Sun. The lines and forms of every bone visible from just the right angles as they shatter, stretch, and mend with an agonizing rapidity to drag her up to a daunting height. Sinew, muscle and tendon all the while snapping, recoiling, and reforming to accommodate this new and predatory bearing. Veins and arteries, in kind, flow with noxious black as the corruptive energies swirl and take root, her eyes draining of that distinct crimson and gold hue leaving only a single prick of light nearly drowned in a sea of impenetrable black. Were that these the extent of the horrors wrought by the invoking of the Eye of Immanis for one can't help but stare as razor-like teeth push aside whatever may block their way, twisting and gnarling the line of gum and tooth to pierce and part the flesh of the cheek revealing a hideous, too broad maw. A likewise change playing out in the hands as bones shatter and twist as tendons and sinew reinforce to accommodate the agonizingly slow-yet-quick emergence of seven inch talons, black as jet, that now adorn each finger tip. This final change marking the ultimate perversion, turning tools of creation to tools of abject and potent destruction. Pools Certes Accuracy: 3/3 Movement: 3/3 Physicality: 3/3 Perception: 4/4 Qualia Sorcery: 6/6 Interaction: 3/3 Intellect: 3/3 Sortilege: 2/2 Hidden Knowledge: 10 Injuries: Wounds: Anguish: Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TheRaconteur Posted January 12 Author Clone Share Posted January 12 (edited) Chapter I - Act I: A Shitty Start Sooth Deck: The Cat Effects: None Divination: "One sometimes must act alone to succeed. Curiosity and cleverness can be virtues, but be wary of taking them too far. A challenge may arise that involves both mental and physical dexterity." Shuistliel made slow but steady progress along the cobblestones, stepping around the thickest clumps of silk and cutting his way through that which couldn't be avoided. The blade which he wielded soon became covered in web, and at least three times he needed to pull free the Raven's feathers that had been struck in it, but it worked. The Raven's had initially challenged him, but now appeared to ignore him completely. They kept up their constant chatter, mostly gargles, gurgles, and clucks, a constant commentary utterly unknowable to him. Not unknowable, he'd heard several before say they knew the Secret of talking to Ravens, just unknowable to him. Xanah's flat was only a few house's down, and as he wove his way towards the multistory apartment he'd have seen the Vance in question disappear through the open front door of Marjolene's. Stan was perhaps still a block further, but slowly working his way in their direction. By the time Shuistliel made it to the door, his own senses flooded with the smell of fresh baked blueberry muffins to the sound of Marjolene's current performance, Xanah would have just started to make her call. The Aethyr Link in question was a beautiful piece of mostly opaque crystal, shaped like a listening horn. Ivory perhaps, or some other lustrous material, mounted in copper. Copper wire connected it to the dark wood of the phone box, upon which was embedded another plate of copper polished into a mirror shine. Upon this, Xanah knew from the previous times they'd had a need to use the device that she needed to inscribe the name of the person she was seeking to call. Strangely, it only accepted cursive, which had caused considerable confusion the first time she'd tried to use it. The moment her fingers touched the horn this time, she felt the slightest electrical shock, as if the phone had been holding a static charge ready to be released. The sensation was repeated when she tried to put it to her ear, the faintest smell of ozone coming from the mouthpiece. More concerning still, as she began tracing "Konstantin Grigori" upon the nameplate, she heard static start to build within the earpiece. "I'm sending a... to fix it." The voice was faint, scratchy, masculine, and definitely not Konstantin's. "I'm sending a man to fix it, he'll be by tonight." Xanah had only met Arleen Kas twice before he'd passed on, and the memories of what he'd sounded like had already receded into the foggy haze left behind by the Gray. "I'm sending him to fix it, don't lock your door." There was a static snap, and then the Link completed the call. "You've reached the Paresaad, of the esteemed Order of the Vance, honor be to Orrod..." Konstantin's voice at least, disciplined and proud, though it sounded like a recording. "... assuming you still remember it, leave your name and a brief description of the emergency, and we'll send someone by just as soon as we are available." Did he sound... stressed? Xanah had seem him angry on numerous occasions, but she didn't think she'd ever seen his façade of professionalism crack. The line about "assuming you still remember it" was very out of character. The Chorus was displeased. That wasn't new, it was always displeased. Or at least, parts of it were. Even if she'd more rigorously attended to its every single need, giving in to the temptations and depravations it urged her unceasingly to indulge in, the Chorus would have been displeased. It was simply too wide, too vast, and too chaotic for her to ever act in a manner that all of it found satisfactory. The Chorus was many, and its demands constant. Though she could suppress the loudest parts of it with an effort of will, the key word there was effort, the drain of such a thing small but constant. Even actively working to do so, thoughts sipped through. More ideas than words, most of the time, though the Chorus could always push the issue when it willed it so. "You should have stayed in your room." It frequently did. The inside of the decaying estate itself was strangely untouched, the cobwebs she did encounter having mostly been there before. They might have been perhaps a dozen or so new webs, in corners and other hard to reach spaces, but nothing like the chaos of what she was seeing outside. The exterior of the estate and the grounds around it might as well have been breeding silk worms, and even with her implements in hand it would take her considerable time to work her way across to Ma'am's home. The gardens and walkways had long ago fallen into disarray, untended and wild. The eternal autumn of Fartown meant that nature was not running rampant, but instead lent the space an aura of decay. Half the trees at least were dead, and of those half again had fallen. Brambles and leaves, broken sticks, fallen branches, and all manner of detritus clogged the walkways. The hedges had grown thick with thorns, the shapes they had been trimmed into long since lost. Onto all of this had been added what surely must be a mountain of spider silk, heavier still with the weight of the morning dew. She could just see the other Maker from where she stood, and even that was only because of the elevation. From her vantage, she was pretty sure she saw Aldrion Phect as well, approaching from the other side. "How dare they.... how dare they.... how dare they!" The Chorus raged, and though one voice led the charge others picked it up. "A trinity of fire and shadow, bound by pact unsealed, the smoking wreckage of eternity." A counterpoint, madness to add to the furious screaming. Not so loud as to drown out thought, but still ever present. Edited January 13 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Amora Posted January 14 Clone Share Posted January 14 (edited) Felicia Ainsworth There was never peace, never a moment of serenity… It was only in the act of creation that she could drag just a moment, one precious instance of something, out of the cacophony that made its home in her soul and mind. They had been what had dragged her back from the grey, from the illusions of a far more mundane life through the durance of mental illness that had left that life in shambles. The shards of which still dug and stabbed at her as she stood now surrounded by the webbed desolation of what should have been bustling with life rather than uncomfortable questions, rot, and specters. One voice after another rifled through her mind, blurring together save for the stronger of the chorus’ participants… The ones that always seemed to know something of the pact that had been struck in the times before memory.. Teeth ground and her head pounded, a hand rising to dig into the white of her hair and press hard against her right temple. She could feel the infernal warmth of her own skin, feeding back onto itself and seeming to grow ever warmer as she closed her eyes. She had to stop herself from angling in her nails to dig at her scalp, inflict pain, do something or anything to make them quiet. Anything but what they wanted because they wanted too many things, too many perversions, too many acts of damnation, too many acts of destruction that ground against the nature of her magic and soul. The Maker forced the tensed muscles of her jaw to relax and drew in a deep breath, bracing thanks to the cold and eternal autumnal air. That tinge of madness invading the hue of her eyes as the last voice spouted its riddle and sent a jolt of nervous energy down through her. The old shards of gray and false memory cutting their way through the uproar of the Chorus of so-called-whispers. Felicia forced calm then into her mind, retreating back mentally from the crushing wave that was the will of the legion within. It was not healthy, avoidance by any other name, but there was too much, too many, too everything but things needed to be looked after and she wouldn’t manage that hiding away in her room, raging with indignation, or… lengthening the shadows and making deals with fire? She drew another breath and began counting then within the innermost recesses of the mind, eyes still closed, and the hand that clutched at her head forced to fall by her side. That same hand balling tightly into a fist as she felt her finely manicured nails begin to dig into the flesh of her palm in sequence to the count. Little flairs of pain firing in her mind like sparks before she set to the task. It wasn’t what any of them wanted but it was destruction, change by any other name… and she had something of a systematic plan to see it all done… It was just a matter of time and resources balanced against everything else in her life. It wasn't exactly quick, clean, or particularly happy work but she tried to find a little pleasure in freeing each of the Ravens she happened across caught in the careless carpeting of sticky, entangling silk. Each square meter seeming like an eternity with the Chorus goading towards more impulsive action or baser cruelty when the weaker, less creative of them found the strength to force their intrusive opinions into her mind. Each moment's work bringing her across the property towards Ma'am was so enthralled in her search as what was a vislae neighbor if not a little nosey. A little note mentally made and filed away of Aldrion’s own course. She knew, or at least was reasonably certain, that they held a measure of the family’s blood and so as the last of the Ainsworth still around and in the literal flesh… She had a vested interest but it didn’t seem like something reciprocated from a few of the casual encounters. Character Arcs EstablishmentYou want to prove yourself as someone of importance. This can take many forms—socially, within your order, financially, or even romantically. Cost: The Need for Proof. You pay a cost of 2 Acumen. Opening: Assessment. 1 Acumen reward. You assess yourself as well as who you need to prove yourself to. Step(s): Appearances Matter. 1 Acumen reward. You improve your look. Enhance your wardrobe. Spruce up your house. Whatever it takes to get attention from the right people. There might be many such steps. Step(s): Self-Aggrandizement. 1 Acumen reward. You need to get the word out to get people talking about you. There might be many such steps. Climax: Grabbing Attention. 3 Acumen reward. You do something big, like host a party for influential people or produce a play that you wrote. You make a big splash (1 Joy) or a big crash (1 Despair). Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You reflect on what you did and where you go from here - Current Step: The Need for Proof Description Description It's the eyes, really, that most fixate upon first. The hues of crimson and gold spinning, twisting, merging in their depths as they seem to give a clear window into the utter depths of Felicia's mind with their uniquely expressive quality. That there feels to be a thousand, a hundred thousand, pairs of eyes staring back from behind those initial windows to the soul only seems to cement the impression of something troublesome, something worrying to compliment the elfin quality of her sharp features and diminutive frame. That sensation of malice, of gleeful cruelty, welling up from somewhere in those depths even as she comports herself with nothing but cheerful, if stoic, mannerisms and inexhaustible impressions of attention to the minute aesthetics of every gesture, motion, and twist of both herself and the world around her. In matters of garb, she tends to play to the company she plans for with blouses, dresses, and pants of riotous colors among the bohemian communes of Fartown to the carefully coordinated yet still somehow esoteric gowns and suits of high society galas and soirees. Each and every ensemble meticulously planned and coordinated like one of the great works of her brushes. The only break from this carefully crafted aesthetic seems to be her hair, pale and bloodless as her complexion. It's length healthy, glossy, and well tended but cursed with creative differences in how it curls and falls. Despite this, it seems always to blend, practically meld, seamlessly into any trim of fur or feather that might adorn a chosen outfit. Like those glimpses of alien malice and cruelty in the depths of her eyes, there always seems to be a discordant element that shadows her. Whether it be a flicker of something other in the crimson depths of her eyes, the way her shadow seems to twitch and twist without her ever moving, or how her reflection never quite seems to be her... It becomes all too clear that her body and soul might be host to something besides merely the artist... Worse still is the careful and delicate work of brush and needle; whisking away bruises here, deep scratches or cuts there, all damning evidence of struggles with the self. In the Guise of Immanis The energies of the Abyss are, by its very nature, an instrument of the Dark and unkind as a rule to the essential fabric of whatever is and may be. It is only by the tempering elements of the Gold Sun that the taking in of such hostile energies is more than merely an elaborate form of suicide. The raw stresses of this are quite evident then when Madame Ainsworth invokes so terrible a spell. Her already pale skin grows to be a lifeless gray, gaining an unseemly translucence that is easily pierced by even the wane light of Fartown beneath the Indigo Sun. The lines and forms of every bone visible from just the right angles as they shatter, stretch, and mend with an agonizing rapidity to drag her up to a daunting height. Sinew, muscle and tendon all the while snapping, recoiling, and reforming to accommodate this new and predatory bearing. Veins and arteries, in kind, flow with noxious black as the corruptive energies swirl and take root, her eyes draining of that distinct crimson and gold hue leaving only a single prick of light nearly drowned in a sea of impenetrable black. Were that these the extent of the horrors wrought by the invoking of the Eye of Immanis for one can't help but stare as razor-like teeth push aside whatever may block their way, twisting and gnarling the line of gum and tooth to pierce and part the flesh of the cheek revealing a hideous, too broad maw. A likewise change playing out in the hands as bones shatter and twist as tendons and sinew reinforce to accommodate the agonizingly slow-yet-quick emergence of seven inch talons, black as jet, that now adorn each finger tip. This final change marking the ultimate perversion, turning tools of creation to tools of abject and potent destruction. Pools Certes Accuracy: 3/3 Movement: 3/3 Physicality: 3/3 Perception: 4/4 Qualia Sorcery: 6/6 Interaction: 3/3 Intellect: 3/3 Sortilege: 2/2 Hidden Knowledge: 10 Injuries: Wounds: Anguish: Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Edited January 14 by Amora (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ganurath Posted January 15 Clone Share Posted January 15 Aldrion Phect It was as he was checking his sword's blade over for linger webbing that Aldrion noticed the purple stones. He briefly moved his goggles up to his forehead to be sure that it wasn't some sort of trick of the lenses. But no, one of those colors was definitely not like the other. He pulled the goggles back down, a bit of an awkward process to do with just the ungloved hand, but less awkward than sheathing and unsheathing his sword to get his other hand free. He'd need it to cut further if he was going to get anywhere, after all. Still, it'd do to get permission before actually entering the property. Tugging down the scarf he'd been wearing to protect the lower half of his face, Aldrion called out. "Hey, Ma'am? Saw you hurrying from my balcony, thought I'd look in." If he was lucky, the older woman knew what was going on, and might have a solution that'd involve a less tedious cleanup than he'd expected when he first saw the mess. If not... Ma'am might still need help with something, and she'd been a good enough neighbor that he felt inclined to offer a second pair of hands. Or eyes, if that's what she needed. Character Arcs Uncover a SecretThere is knowledge out there that you want. This arc is a great way to get one of the secrets in the chapter Character and House Secrets that the GM has said aren’t readily available. Likewise, it could be an attempt to find and learn a specific rare spell or ritual. This could also be a hunt for a lost magic word or key that will open a sealed door, the name of a devil, the secret name of an important person, or just how the arabast fashioned their windows in ancient times. Cost: Seeker. You pay a cost of 2 Acumen. Opening: Naming the Secret. 1 Acumen reward. You give your goal a name. “I am seeking the lost martial art of the Khendrix, who could slice steel with their bare hands.” Step(s): Research. 1 Acumen reward. You scour libraries and old tomes for clues and information. Step(s): Investigation. 1 Acumen reward. You talk to people to gain clues and information. Step(s): Tracking. 1 Acumen reward. You track down the source of the secret information and travel to it. Climax: Revelation. 2 Acumen reward. You find and attempt to use the secret, whatever that entails. A successful resolution results in 1 Joy. Failure results in 1 Despair. Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You contemplate how this secret affects you and the world. - Current Step: Seeker Description Aldrion prefers to cover up, as his time in the Shadow working in repairs instilled him with an appreciation of proper protection. He has a scar over one eyebrow, presumably from a narrow miss taken during the war. He favors a style that mixes plain colors with the odd splash of supernatural hues, often in shades of or near indigo in representation of his newfound appreciation for the truth. Pools Certes Accuracy: 2/2 Movement: 3/3 Physicality: 2/2 Perception: 2/2 Qualia Sorcery: 8/8 Interaction: 3/3 Intellect: 3/3 Sortilege: 3/3 Hidden Knowledge: 12 Injuries: Wounds: Anguish: Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aavarius Posted January 15 Clone Share Posted January 15 Xanah "Postulant Xanah," she responded with equal roboticism. "Does the Black Moon howl?" She paused to await the security confirmation reply. With the formal exchange out of the way she finally said to her mentor, "I'm sure you're already getting swamped with reports about what's going on in the Cascades." They must really have been busy if the Paresaad had the old man answering phones. Oh, he was going to be pricklier than a sack of sewing needles. Fortunately, she had good news: "I'm already on the scene with a lead. There's an abandoned house here that the local spider population claims. It's completely obfuscated by the webbing, more so than anything else around here." Xanah frowned, a thought passing through her mind as she considered the possibilities. "Almost as if they're keeping something protected--or maybe keeping something from getting out. "Think I'm going to be neighborly and ask for a cup of sugar," she added. Of course she was going to stick her nose into the middle of it. The old man knew her well enough to know that was a given. The only question was how involved his meddlesome protégé was going to get. "Please tell me you've got more, sir." Character Arcs Aid a Friend Aldrion Phect wishes to rescue his spouse from Shadow, but first he must Uncover the Secret of how such a task might even be possible. I'm too closeted a romantic to tell him I can't resist helping somebody reunite with their loved one. Current StepSomeone needs your help. When a PC friend takes a character arc, you can select this arc to help them with whatever their arc is (if appropriate). The steps and climax depend entirely on their chosen arc. If the friend is an NPC, the steps and climax are lifted from another arc appropriate to whatever they seek to do. If you have a bond with the friend you are helping, this may increase the Acumen earned with each story point by 1. It’s difficult, but possible, to aid a friend with an arc even if that friend is unwilling to accept (or is ignorant of ) your help. The majority of the cost, story points, and rewards for a character with this arc are the same as those described in the original character arc. Cost: Agreeing to Help. You pay a cost of 2 Acumen. Opening: Answering the Call. 1 Acumen reward. Offering to help (or responding to a request for help). Step(s) and Climax: Depends on the friend’s arc. Acumen, Joy, and Despair rewards are the same for you as for the friend. Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You speak with your friend and learn if they are satisfied. Together, you share what you’ve learned (if anything) and where you will go from here.: Agreeing to help Description Appearance Xanah and the possessions on her person lose color saturation in proportion to her amount of sunlight exposure. She's completely grayscale in broad daylight. She otherwise sports a head of medium-length red-brown hair, copper colored eyes, and a fair complexion. Xanah is of unremarkable height and build, a slim physique that belies a lifetime of overindulging. It's only her constantly moving workaholic ethic that keeps her in shape. Her clothing usually favors practicality and comfort, never one to indulge in fashionable fads. Ever conscientious of her habits, Xanah always smells faintly of cinnamon and spice. Personality Lives on coffee, cigars, and favors. Fiercely individualist to a fault. A tarnished heart of gold. Tendency to overindulge. A patron of lost causes, shooter of troubles, slayer of dragons, walker of tightropes, and runner with scissors. Banned from kitchens across the Actuality for abject culinary incompetence. Never met a stranger before but carefully chooses close friendships A closeted romantic, almost disgustingly so. Her sharp tongue and compulsion to kick hornets' nests and turn over rocks makes many enemies. In her Order she's been demoted twice for it. Occupation Xanah describes herself as "creatively entrepreneurial," which is to say she doesn't actually have a traditional occupation. As previously mentioned, she lives off favors. These keep her constantly busy juggling a tangled web of commitments, investments, activism, and odd-jobs that she's perfectly satisfied living in the middle of. Income can be wildly inconsistent, but she's never been one to require much in the way of creature comforts. She's just as likely to blow a windfall on a hopeless cause as she is to devote it to a strategic endeavor. "Money," she says, "is just a means to an end, grease for the skids." She toys with the idea of running for office but talks herself out of it, saying that nobody would vote for her anyway. Despite her modest self-assessment, the growing network of contacts she's been developing suggests she might get more support than she realizes. Dichotomies Wealth or Fame - "It's all in who you know." Friends or Family - "I don't make close friends easy, but the few I have are basically family." Power or Control - "I'm the spider dead center in the web." Introvert or Extrovert - "There's nothing I love more than good company." Order or Chaos - "A little strategic chaos keeps the omnipotent busybodies from getting too comfortable." Freedom or Safety - "'Live free or die trying', I say." Society or the Individual - "Society is people. Make a difference for one and you make a different society." Generosity or Greed - "You give a little to get a little. Sometimes, well...sometimes people need me to give a little more." Moral code or Instinct - "Scruples are what separates man from the animals." Ego or Id - "Can't honestly say I've ever been accused of temperance or self control." Nature or Nurture - "Pro tip: Yes, it's your fault and you can do better." Thought or Action - "I'm a make-it-up-as-you-go kind of gal." Instinct or Knowledge - "My gut has never let me down about what the right thing to do is." Charity or Self-sufficiency - "Everybody needs somebody sometime." Home or the Road - "Give me a warm house and somebody to share it with on all the days that end in 'Y'." Contentment or Challenge - "Look, I don't go crusading for lost causes. They seek me out. They know I"m easy." Pools Injuries: [ ] [ ] [ ] Wounds: [ ] [ ] [ ] Anguish: [ ] [ ] [ ] CERTES QUALIA Accuracy: 3/3 Movement: 1/1 Sorcery: 5/5 Interaction: 4/4 Physicality: 3/3 Perception: 4/4 Intelligence: 1/1 Sortilege: 3/3 Hidden Knowledge: 12 Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TheRaconteur Posted January 16 Author Clone Share Posted January 16 (edited) Chapter I - Act I: A Shitty Start Sooth Deck: The Cat Effects: None Divination: "One sometimes must act alone to succeed. Curiosity and cleverness can be virtues, but be wary of taking them too far. A challenge may arise that involves both mental and physical dexterity." The Chorus did not appreciate her attempts to push them down or block them out, but it was an old battle between them now, familiar duelists. She could intuit when they would win, and when she would emerge victorious, though from time to time one of them found some uncomfortable truth and employed it to devastating effect. Given how tethered to her existence they were, the source of such extraneous knowledge was an uncomfortable mystery. That morning they had no such secrets prepared, and she was able to work her way slowly through rebuilding her mental defenses brick by brick. A wall of will, not enough to silence the screaming horde at the gates, but enough to quiet them. It left her (if not unimpaired), at least not so mentally maimed as to be unable to function. From the top of the stairs at the front door of her family's estate, she could spot at least two of the poor creatures. The first looked to be trapped within the upper branches of one of the pair of half dead aspen that flanked the entrance to the house's front walkway. Reaching it would require a fair amount of dexterity, but assuming the Chorus cooperated seemed feasible. The trees were young compared to the rest of the grounds, having been planted within her recollection to replace the old oaks that had rotted from the inside out there. The lowest branches were outside of her reach, but only by a few feet. She'd not have far to lift herself before she'd be able to make an attempt for them. The branches upon which the web entombed the Raven in question were high up, and while they thinned significantly, were at least plentiful. The other was caught in the hedge at the edge of the grounds, much lower to the ground, but likely as not buried amidst the thorns. She couldn't see from where she stood, but she knew those bushes well. Even when they'd been well tended, they had been resplendent with thorns longer than the fingers of most Vislae, each stained slightly green by the hedge's sap. She had a faint memory of her Ogylos mentioning something about the sap being poisonous, but her time in the Grey had taken much of it from her. It would certainly explain why the Raven trapped was moving so weakly. Prompts: Do you try for one, the other, or both? They will be Physicality Challenges either way. "Phect, is that you?" Evidently the Maker had not heard him approach over the constant beating of wings, for her head snapped up in his direction when he called out. Her large amber eyes seemed even stranger than they usually did, and he got distinct the sensation of a dials turning and lenses falling into place. After a moment she blinked, and at last her eyes seemed to find him. "Find a Spider. They must have taken it from me, but I can't even find one to ask why." Straight to the point, as she often was. She didn't sound distressed, more annoyed, but there was certainly a shade of concern in her words. Perhaps the concern was directed externally rather than internally, though he lacked enough context to really know. "I thought I saw one underneath the rose bush here, but she ran from me!." At that, she definitely sounded a little miffed. Prompts: If you help look, that's going to be a Perception Challenge. It took Xanah perhaps longer than she might have liked to realize that she was talking to herself. Or rather, it would have, had she not given the security passphrase. The lack of an answer on the other end gave her all the information she would have needed to know. While the voice she'd heard through the Ayther Link had been Konstantin's, it had been an echo of the Vance. A recording, and that meant she was simply leaving her own recording through the Noosphere. There would be no cavalry riding into the rescue, no Paresaad task force dispatched to manage the twin situations. At least, not until her sometimes mentor finished with whatever emergency he was currently distracted on, and checked his messages. Edited January 16 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aavarius Posted January 16 Clone Share Posted January 16 Xanah Xanah put the phone back into the cradle. It made a little clacking sound that felt very final to her ears. Like what a period would sound like if it made a sound. "Dammit," she cursed quietly under her breath. She stood there, staring blankly for a moment. Thinking. Chewing softly on her lower lip. She didn't initially notice the thermos of coffee that had been returned to her, sitting within arm's reach. Well, this doesn't change anything, she finally decided. I was still going to go in anyway. Resolved, she gathered up her precious, precious coffee, sipped, and turned around. She was surprised to see somebody she knew standing there--and a fellow Vance at that. Backup, it seemed, was still at hand. "Liel. Darling." She flashed a smile. "Couldn't be more pleased to see you. I've a notion to look into," she gestured at the window and, by extension, all the mess outside of it, "...all that. Care to join me, darling?" Character Arcs Aid a Friend Aldrion Phect wishes to rescue his spouse from Shadow, but first he must Uncover the Secret of how such a task might even be possible. I'm too closeted a romantic to tell him I can't resist helping somebody reunite with their loved one. Current StepSomeone needs your help. When a PC friend takes a character arc, you can select this arc to help them with whatever their arc is (if appropriate). The steps and climax depend entirely on their chosen arc. If the friend is an NPC, the steps and climax are lifted from another arc appropriate to whatever they seek to do. If you have a bond with the friend you are helping, this may increase the Acumen earned with each story point by 1. It’s difficult, but possible, to aid a friend with an arc even if that friend is unwilling to accept (or is ignorant of ) your help. The majority of the cost, story points, and rewards for a character with this arc are the same as those described in the original character arc. Cost: Agreeing to Help. You pay a cost of 2 Acumen. Opening: Answering the Call. 1 Acumen reward. Offering to help (or responding to a request for help). Step(s) and Climax: Depends on the friend’s arc. Acumen, Joy, and Despair rewards are the same for you as for the friend. Resolution: 1 Acumen reward. You speak with your friend and learn if they are satisfied. Together, you share what you’ve learned (if anything) and where you will go from here.: Agreeing to help Description Appearance Xanah and the possessions on her person lose color saturation in proportion to her amount of sunlight exposure. She's completely grayscale in broad daylight. She otherwise sports a head of medium-length red-brown hair, copper colored eyes, and a fair complexion. Xanah is of unremarkable height and build, a slim physique that belies a lifetime of overindulging. It's only her constantly moving workaholic ethic that keeps her in shape. Her clothing usually favors practicality and comfort, never one to indulge in fashionable fads. Ever conscientious of her habits, Xanah always smells faintly of cinnamon and spice. Personality Lives on coffee, cigars, and favors. Fiercely individualist to a fault. A tarnished heart of gold. Tendency to overindulge. A patron of lost causes, shooter of troubles, slayer of dragons, walker of tightropes, and runner with scissors. Banned from kitchens across the Actuality for abject culinary incompetence. Never met a stranger before but carefully chooses close friendships A closeted romantic, almost disgustingly so. Her sharp tongue and compulsion to kick hornets' nests and turn over rocks makes many enemies. In her Order she's been demoted twice for it. Occupation Xanah describes herself as "creatively entrepreneurial," which is to say she doesn't actually have a traditional occupation. As previously mentioned, she lives off favors. These keep her constantly busy juggling a tangled web of commitments, investments, activism, and odd-jobs that she's perfectly satisfied living in the middle of. Income can be wildly inconsistent, but she's never been one to require much in the way of creature comforts. She's just as likely to blow a windfall on a hopeless cause as she is to devote it to a strategic endeavor. "Money," she says, "is just a means to an end, grease for the skids." She toys with the idea of running for office but talks herself out of it, saying that nobody would vote for her anyway. Despite her modest self-assessment, the growing network of contacts she's been developing suggests she might get more support than she realizes. Dichotomies Wealth or Fame - "It's all in who you know." Friends or Family - "I don't make close friends easy, but the few I have are basically family." Power or Control - "I'm the spider dead center in the web." Introvert or Extrovert - "There's nothing I love more than good company." Order or Chaos - "A little strategic chaos keeps the omnipotent busybodies from getting too comfortable." Freedom or Safety - "'Live free or die trying', I say." Society or the Individual - "Society is people. Make a difference for one and you make a different society." Generosity or Greed - "You give a little to get a little. Sometimes, well...sometimes people need me to give a little more." Moral code or Instinct - "Scruples are what separates man from the animals." Ego or Id - "Can't honestly say I've ever been accused of temperance or self control." Nature or Nurture - "Pro tip: Yes, it's your fault and you can do better." Thought or Action - "I'm a make-it-up-as-you-go kind of gal." Instinct or Knowledge - "My gut has never let me down about what the right thing to do is." Charity or Self-sufficiency - "Everybody needs somebody sometime." Home or the Road - "Give me a warm house and somebody to share it with on all the days that end in 'Y'." Contentment or Challenge - "Look, I don't go crusading for lost causes. They seek me out. They know I"m easy." Pools Injuries: [ ] [ ] [ ] Wounds: [ ] [ ] [ ] Anguish: [ ] [ ] [ ] CERTES QUALIA Accuracy: 3/3 Movement: 1/1 Sorcery: 5/5 Interaction: 4/4 Physicality: 3/3 Perception: 4/4 Intelligence: 1/1 Sortilege: 3/3 Hidden Knowledge: 12 Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gryphon173 Posted January 17 Clone Share Posted January 17 (edited) Shuistliel Shuistliel wondered who Xanah had been speaking to -- someone with some official clout, based on this side of the conversation -- but decided that she'd tell him if she wanted to. "Nice to see you, Xanah. You've got some webbing on your back, by the way," the Vancian mage said as he worked to get the same off of his axe. "From the Bastion -- which is 100% clear of webs, by the by -- I couldn't see much of your side of the neighborhood. An abandoned building completely covered in webbing seems like a good place to start, and I think it'll take authorities a while to hack through the outermost webbing. Not to mention how the birdstorm might react to interlopers. I think it ignored me to the extent it did because I belong here." Shuistliel thought about it for a few moments, but decided not to mention the missing Truespider in the Bastion. Xanah had never been introduced to the thing, and the Galant didn't know how secretive the creature wanted to be. Instead, he said, "It's interesting that the spells I've got prepared can lend themselves to an investigation, and I have an Ephemera that may be helpful in figuring some of this out, if we can parse the true answers from the false." In point of fact, the Serpent knew exactly how to get one true answer out of the damned thing, but that would cut its potential usefulness by a lot. "It never came up in the school, but I'm pretty handy with a sword or this axe of mine that came over from Shadow." Shuistliel's movements are like a dancer, but Xanah may realize that such movements are in common with a fencer, or even a duelist. Character Arcs Develop a Bond: Shuistliel realizes he has too few friends, and would like to expand his circle of true friends. Solve a Mystery: There's a ton of questions surrounding the webbing of his neighborhood and the swirl of angry birds aloft, and Shuistliel wants answers to all of them. And he can handle the truth! Description Shuistliel is a very handsome man with long silver hair and green eyes the color of fine emeralds. He is dressed as he usually is, in a nice suit, jacket, and pants, and he has his usual snake-headed cane along. He moves quite agilely, like a dancer, perhaps. What's unusual this morning is the black survival combat axe carried in one hand while the cane is tucked under an arm. He is using the blade along the curved back of the axe -- which is apparently quite sharp -- to sever webs, but he's carefully avoiding severing certain ones. (Those who know anything about spider webs know that these are the radial ones used to detect prey, rather than the axial ones that trap prey.) Pools Certes Accuracy: 3/3 Movement: 3/3 Physicality: 2/2 Perception: 3/3 Qualia Sorcery: 4/4 Interaction: 3/3 Intellect: 3/3 Sortilege: 3/3 Hidden Knowledge: 10 Injuries: Wounds: Anguish: Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Edited February 1 by Gryphon173 (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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