Aavarius Posted January 17 Clone Share Posted January 17 Xanah Xanah made a little frustrated sound when Shuistliel informed her she was still enwebbed. "Would you be so kind?" she asked him and turned and turned around again so he could reach her. That annoyance disposed of, she said, "I'm afraid I left my jungle machete in my other trousers." It was an obvious exaggeration. The truth of the matter was, she was ever so grateful the man was willing to go along with her. "I'll have to stick close to you while we walk if I'm to avoid getting covered again." There was more, though. Her colleague had a different experience with all the birds and spider webs than Xanah or, apparently, anyone else in the neighborhood. That struck her as odd enough to point out. Perhaps it would lead to clues? She asked, "It's curious your house, of all places, remains untouched. I don't think the rest of our buildings were spared. And as you say, you 'belong here,' so the birds have left you alone. I don't know what that means or where you live. Is that significant somehow?" 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...
Ganurath Posted January 18 Clone Share Posted January 18 Aldrion Phect Aldrion nodded, looking over the area outside Ma'am's fence for a start, since that'd be considerably more visible to him than to her. He'd have to use his sword more conservatively on the webbing, too, if he wanted to draw one out. Watch what each broken thread stirred, see if anything was prompted to motion. "I'm guessing you also want me looking for whatever it is they took, in case it's still nearby?" Hopefully, whatever was missing would give him a way to segue to what he'd noticed about the purple stones in her fence. 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 Perception 3 1d10 3 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gryphon173 Posted January 18 Clone Share Posted January 18 Shuistliel Shuistliel brushes the cobwebs off of his former classmate. "All clear, at least for now," he says. "As for my house, I suspect it's web-free because of who haunts it, and that's about all I can say for the moment." He shrugs. He thinks about what he said about the birds. "Regarding the birds, it was my impression that they're inherently hostile, but that because I'm part of the neighborhood, they refrained from attacking. They did do the bird equivalent of bristling and growling when I left the Bastion, but that was all." He tosses his head in a gesture that settled his long hair better in place (he'd removed his hat upon entering the business). "I'll be happy to stick close to you while we walk. There's nothing at my house that might explain what's going on, or at least nothing I could see. But this totally-covered place might be the center of the whole thing. Fortunately, it's not far, but on the down side, it might be tough to cut our way into it." Should we share what spells we have prepared? Shuistliel thought. And that I don't have the one we share prepared? 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 Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Amora Posted January 18 Clone Share Posted January 18 (edited) Felicia Ainsworth Felicia could feel that displeasure, that overwhelming and collective desire to demand the entirety of her attention, and she knew they wouldn't press the issue more than they had to... Not now, not when she had something sharp in hand and a purpose in mind. They knew it was in these moments that unpleasantness could arise... Or at least, she liked to tell herself that. More often than not it was that very conflict, that horrid series of transitions, that got their dander up and had them excitedly babbling at volumes that could rival any stadium. For now, though, they were muzzled. Not bested, never bested, merely delayed in whatever ambition they saw fit to try and push her toward. All of them, she was quite certain, unpalatable and life altering. Regardless, it was time to alter the course of a life in a more positive fashion as she worked her way with care towards the tree. She was of the firm and stubborn mind to lend a hand to both of the poor ravens. It was hard to say which of the two were in the more dire straits between entrapment in their natural habitat and entrapment among purportedly envenomed thorns if her recollections of the time before were to be trusted any farther than she might forget them. It was with deliberate care then that she worked her way as swiftly as she could towards the edge of the grounds. The weak thrashing of the avian trapped there saying all that need be said about who needed the most immediate care. All the while, the muffled shrieks of the Chorus questioned what good she'd be doing at all contributing to the shrieking mess currently covering the world in shit and making a sticky mess all the more of a mess. She didn't put much weight to those thoughts knowing such birds were clever things and clever things had a way to them that might give someone a better insight into whatever might be going on. Not that such was her only motivation, she really did want to help the poor thing because she didn't think it deserved any of what had been inflicted on it. That much showed in the careful nature of her approach and the soft, gentle tones she took to ensure the Raven didn't thrash and flail it's way into worse circumstances. "Let's get you loose from this thicket... and then we can look to getting you back to Parliament since it looks like it's a busy campaign season." Small as she was, Felicia was not lacking in many aspects of the physical... One of the few blessings of hosting a legion of violent, psychotic, degenerates within one's own soul in so disharmonious a union as an artist and, well, a demonic horde. Granted, she could concede the point that among the bohemian circles of Satyrine... a demon was not exactly an unusual bedfellow. Expression could often demand destruction or sacrifice of some kind and given the nature of her own art and the worlds it could create only further emphasized that. She did not let her mind dwell or detour too long upon that tangent of thought though and devoted the whole of her focus and delicate touch to extricating the poor bird as swiftly and gently as she was able. Spending 1 Bene of Physicality Physicality 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: 2/3 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 18 by Amora (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Physicality 3 1d10 3 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TheRaconteur Posted January 19 Author Clone Share Posted January 19 (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." Ma'am let out a distressed little laugh at that, part sigh and part chuckle. "Well that would certainly make things simpler, if they've squirreled it away somewhere. Or spidered it away somewhere, I suppose. Something physical that I could grab onto." She answered obtusely. "Not that I would, I'm sure they took it for a reason. No, I've got to ask them, but for some reason they won't talk to me, won't even look at me." She sounded genuinely concerned, but was doing her best to present a facade of calm as she searched. Given the aura of confidence and surety she'd normally presented with on all of their previous meetings, it was a considerable shift in affect and mood. She wasn't distraught or wracked with doubt, but whatever had happened had shaken her. Whatever she was searching for, the answer appeared to lay in finding a spider, yet the creatures had thus far appeared remarkably difficult to find. From outside the fence, it didn't help that there was quite a lot of reflected light to manage. The stained glass glistened in the morning air, polished surface giving Aldrion cause to shield and avert their eyes. Squinting away from it, he found little respite within the webs. The scintillating dew trapped upon each thread in the wane morning light was fascinating, endlessly capable of drawing in the eye with its iridescent majesty. It was also incredibly distracting, and buggered any attempt to look for those little flickers of movement that might give away the location of eight tiny eyes being carried about on eight small limbs. He tried to find something to orient onto, something that might ground his vision and allow him a moment of visual respite. His efforts were stymied by Ma'am herself, who'd chosen that morning to adorn herself in a pearlescent shawl wrapped around her shoulders. It would have been beautiful in most other situations, but here it proved to be a bit much. Rubbing at his eyes to clear them, his gaze eventually settled on the only lead he'd been given, the rose bush. Well, the some sort of bush at least. It had thorns like a rose bush, but given that it was the middle of Autumn there were no leaves. Aldrion wasn't sure if he'd seen thorns that shivered and shook with anticipation like that, and it was anticipation. He could feel it, feel the sensation that the bush was giving off. Satyrine was a city that fed on emotions, in a manner of speaking, and evidently this bush did too. It wafted off like a cloud of spores, invisible to every sense but his intuition. It was an intoxicating feeling, and almost distracted him completely from the furtive little motion he saw deep within. Almost, but not quite. He couldn't get a good angle on it from where he stood outside the fence, but surely Ma'am wouldn't mind if he let himself in? Walking across the grounds was slow work, as they'd long ago fallen into disrepair. Leaves crunched beneath her feet with each step she took regardless of if she stuck to the paths or followed the straight line of an arrow's flight to her intended target. Looking down, she could see her feet were slick with the morning dew, and perhaps she could feel the chill of it sinking into her bones if her footwear was not up to the task. Her eyes needed to be many places at once, for her steps were constantly impeded by loose strands of spidersilk that needed to be brushed away, or else walked through. Her skin itched at the thought of the later, wondering what eight legged travelers might be brought along for the ride should she simply push her way through. Still, the air buzzed with anticipatory power about her as she stepped forward, an external feeling rather than an internal one. All Vislae were attuned to the complex exchange of magical currents which extended from the Invisible Sun into the Actuality. The Sooth Deck was a representation of these celestial currents, ideograms representing terms otherwise difficult to describe. There was a certain comfort in knowing that she walked in the path of the Suns, aligning her intention with the aetheric tides. It didn’t feel feline, there was no direct one to one representation like that. There was merely an air of discovery, the anticipation of capturing something small and quick within her claws. It was no guarantee of success, prophecy didn’t work like that, but the positive effect of the alignment of intent and divination couldn’t be downplayed. As she drew nearer the hedge, she could hear Aldrion and Ma’am conversing on the other side. She only caught the tail end of their words, but they were close enough that she’d only have needed to call out for them to hear her. Her target was the Raven though, caught as it was. “Burn it, it soils this unhallowed ground with its foul presence.” The bird was still alive, but it didn’t appear to be in great shape, struggling weakly against the silken strands that had caught one of its wings. It hung from the wing, its talons caught up in the same material where it had attempted to scrabble and scratch itself free, croaking weakly in protest as she drew near. She could see one or two of the long thorns near it, but could not tell if the poor beast had been punctured by any of them. It fluttered and jerked when she drew near, but it was too exhausted (or perhaps weakened from poison) to put up much of a fight. It was close, and she almost pricked herself on no less than three occasions, but eventually she managed to pull it loose from the chords that held it fast. “Meat to be consumed. Cast out forever, banished from the earth.” It jerked then, tearing itself free from her grasp, as if it too could hear the threats the Chorus sent echoing through her head. Too weak from its exertions, it fell to the ground in an undignified thump, regaining its feet and squawking weakly. From the other side of the Hedge, Adrion and Ma’am could hear the bird as well, its voice far more distressed than those of its cousins above. The soul of politeness, Marjolene turned up the music while Xanah was using the Ayther Link. Her ability to multitask between the attending to the muffins she was working out of the tin and the soothing notes of the background music was second to none. Most establishments in Satyrine that wanted that sort of ambiance would have just hired a musician, or else purchased a radio and put it on one of the city's three stations. Not Marjolene though. She wasn't a control freak, she was just very good at what she did, and what she did was provide ambiance. A trio of cats patrolled the premises, two black voids and a fat orange tabby with only a handful of tiger's stripes. Xanah had never seen the tabby anywhere but sitting in a sunbeam, gazing out the the front window, except on the not infrequent occasions that Marjolene was feeding it. The two sleek black cats were seldom seen, preferring small and dark places to hide. It was not uncommon for a small black paw to reach out from a half opened cupboard or shoe rack to bat at a passing Vislae, those these ambushes were always playful, and at their most vicious succeeded only in knocking said a hat to the floor or pawing at a passing shin. Seeing that they looked ready to depart, the proprietress had set a pair of matching brown paper bags on the counter, along with another twinned set of to-go cups. Prompt: She's put your favorite edible items on the counter, what are they? Edited January 20 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ganurath Posted January 20 Clone Share Posted January 20 Aldrion Phect Won't even look? Aldrion frowned thoughtfully at that, even as he struggled with the glittering spectacle of the dew-spackled webbing. The shine on the purple stones suddenly felt a lot more relevant. He didn't remember how accurate Shadow's understanding of their biology was in terms of field of view, but if it even resembled the truth, then cursed mirrors would be a serious hazard to them. Keeping eyes on the bush he'd seen movement in, he gave voice to his speculation. "Maybe the reflective stones in your fence are worrying-?" The end of the question was interrupted by the sound of a raven, considerably closer than the roiling unkindness overhead. He snapped his head to look toward the source of the noise, so that Ma'am could see why his question had cut short. His eyes, hidden behind the lenses of his goggles, only flickered away from the original source of his focus for a fraction of a second, though. Eyes on the rose bush, ears on the bird. A busy morning, but at least it wasn't tedious. 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...
Amora Posted January 20 Clone Share Posted January 20 (edited) Felicia Ainsworth No. NO! NO! It wasn't an articulate argument, really more of a psychic shriek, and it was directed pointedly and precisely at those three voices. Stabbing at them, gouging at them, ripping them away from the wall within her mind to let her focus. Such lashing out rarely came without a cost, the Chorus could sense when they struck a chord and knew, in kind, how to pluck at it all the more... To try and drag her to some course or direction far more entertaining and aligned to their way of thinking. Worse it was in the little moments of quiet that might lead up to such a upswell in the legion's song where she found those quieter, more insidious voices that whispered back to her and asked why she even bothered to fight it? She'd clearly invited them into herself at some point... and they had dragged her back from the lies she'd cocooned herself in. What was real then? The woman who had tamed the beast or the meek thing that was trying to put the pieces back together? Teeth ground, then, and her jaw clicked for the force of it as she watched the bird regain it's footing and release the pitiful squawk. She wanted to help but felt wretchedly inept for all the things her hands could do... Healing, ironically, remained well beyond her grasp to the delight of the cacophonous horde that clawed and scrabbled at the quaking walls of her will. All this deliberation and rapid switching of focus between introspection and the raven before her made it utter certainty that she had missed the abrupt pause in the conversation on the other side of the hedge boundary of her wretched estate. There was something she could do though as she reached to the bag of gold chain and painted canvas at her hip. It was gawdy and eye catching in contrast to the more reserved and work minded hues of her outfit but then anything that aided and abetted the act of creation and magic ought to have a certain... character to it in her mind. Out came a little phial, the color of deepest indigo and pierced, on occasion, by flecks of some fleshy crimson. From one perspective, it was a waste to use a bit of open tongue but bridging the gap of language seemed like it could give an idea as to just what all the racket was about in a more detailed fashion than casual associations of web everywhere and family caught in the threads. Plus, maybe she could at least assess if she could take her eyes of her present avian company long enough to look after the other thrashing itself in the tree sooner than alter. So she unstopped the thin phial and learned the local dialect of Raven with a tilt back of her head and a knocking back of the contents of the phial. "I'd just like to help. Will you be alright long enough that I can look after your friend caught in the tree?" Felicia asked in the squawking, ear stabbing language of the Ravens. Behind the mask, she was a wounded and broken thing scrabbling to keep the threads together... outwardly though there was a calm and gentle quality to her voice as she kept her distance from the weakened bird now. Each word tempered with a sincere desire to assist that was at odds with the alien malice that radiated from the thousand fold stare behind her crimson and gold eyes. 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: 2/3 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 22 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aavarius Posted January 21 Clone Share Posted January 21 Xanah Xanah sipped on her precious, precious coffee while she listened to Shuistliel. He was a fine looking man, so there was a lot for her to appreciate. He had always seemed even-tempered to her; thoughtful, clear-headed. So, when he concluded that there were was no particular reason his experience should be noteworthy to their present subject of inquiry, she was inclined to take him at his word. "No harm intended, darling--just a spot of idle curiosity," she assured when he had finished. "I won't pry into it further." He had moved on and brought up a good point. Their ingress into the abandoned house was likely to have complications. "No knowing the difficulty of it until we get there." Xanah saw the little morsel of food Marjolene had left for them and then involuntarily made a small pained sound. Shuistliel could openly read the temptation smeared across her face. She desired the little square of chocolate pastry like a burning man desired water. It was primal. The little bit of fluffy cream topping with a thin slice of strawberry nestled inside had elicited a conflict within Xanah between indulgence and self-control that was as obvious as the nose on her face. Want and Need were losing their distinction. Xanah had forsworn food years ago. Aliento de Vida, her preferred brand of cigar, had a filler that was so complete as to be perfectly adequate for sustaining a person. But it didn't do anything to bolster her meager discipline to resist little temptations like this. Temperance was not among her chief virtues. So, it really came as no surprise when Xanah caved and picked up the pastry. Chocolate was an irresistible sin. 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 22 Author Clone Share Posted January 22 (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." There was was definitely something moving within the thorny bush, though as Aldrion peered over the picket fence it scurried even deeper inside to get away from him. He couldn't get a good look at what from where she stood on the sidewalk, but whatever it was had been roughly the size of his thumb. Given the context clues Ma'am had been providing, it was hard to imagine it was anything other than a spider. A concerning thought that they grew that large here, but one which was quickly dispelled when the croaking started. Quite a bit of it, several ravens then, though his view of them was obscured by the large and relatively untamed hedge that towered over Ma'am's little picket fence where the two of them met along the side of her carriage house. Given that it was a carriage house, it seemed odd that it wasn't part of the Estate. Perhaps it had been, at one point, sold off at some unknown time for some unknown purpose. Whatever it had been, it's current occupant didn't seem particularly interested in whatever had the ravens so chatty on the other side. "Never worried them before, the Brood of Giir used to like making their webs off of the green ones." She sighed, and then perked up as she had a thought. "Well, apparently I haven't lost their Broodnames, that's something." For Felicia, the croaking was of course a very different experience. For starters, a decent portion of it was coming from her own lips. Consuming the oil had been interesting, but not what she might characterize as enjoyable. The magic of Indigo was the magic of truth, neither past, present, or future. The oil was slick against her tongue, coating the back of her throat as it dripped down. She couldn't not focus on it, though at least it did not cause her stomach to roil. There was no taste, but rather an absence of it, as if the oil suffused her taste buds and cut them off from the Actuality. It sharpened the rest of her senses though, particularly her hearing, hyperfixating her mind upon the Raven before her. The truth of its warbles and croaks opening up before her like some strange flower, revealing itself as the Ephemera took hold. "Crroooaakk.. grooo..end. Wing-pain. Earth-bound. Many-legs. Not-safe." The bedraggled bird was still covered in web, though she'd gotten the thicker strands that had restrained it cleared away. The way it was holding its wing was not a good sign, and it hadn't even tried to beat them since being liberated. Instead it hoped about, trying furtively to simultaneously work its beak through its feathers, while maintaining a constant vigil. Edited January 22 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gryphon173 Posted January 22 Clone Share Posted January 22 Shuistliel Shuistliel smiles a bit shyly at Xanah when she gives into temptation. "I see that you and pastry still have a good working relationship," the Vancian says affectionately. He'd seen Xanah struggle with temptation many (many) times before, and in fact had provided the source of her "transgressions" a few times. The bakeries near the Vancian Academy were noteworthy for any connoisseur of pastry (which Liel certainly is as well). "As for the house, if it's merely locked, I can certainly get us in, once we uncover the door," he says. "I'm armed and I've got magic ready, but we might want to obtain a little backup before charging in. This was a huge spell -- or burst of some chaotic magic -- that enwebbed the whole district. I don't have anyone to call upon who's into this kind of skullduggery." Although he's trying to keep an even tone, it's evident that he's a bit frightened by the events and the possibility of entering the enwebbed house, but he's also determined to do so if it gets to the bottom of this situation. His attention is distracted by something on the wall behind Xanah for a brief moment. She knows it's probably a frog or a moth, or possibly a beetle; there's almost always one of those near him somewhere. This one is a pretty little blue frog with white markings, and as usual, none of the other people notice the creature. 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 Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aavarius Posted January 23 Clone Share Posted January 23 Xanah Shame had fully settled into Xanah, and it was not well hidden. How could she? Caught red handed was the proper phrase, and she didn't have the magic necessary to hide her little indiscretion. The diffused lighting of the day gave her enough color to show how much she was blushing. Uncharacteristically stumbling over her words she got out, "I, uh... we're, uh... just--we're just friends." She cleared her throat lightly and muttered, "Nothing on the regular." Skullduggery! "Skullduggery," she said aloud this time. The change of subject was much, much appreciated. "Let's see who else we know around town we can deputize into our little investigation." She paused for precious, precious coffee, then said, "If that isn't enough I might know somebody with experiencing dugging a skull or two, though that may take some time to arrange. "Regardless, I think we have options, 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...
Ganurath Posted January 23 Clone Share Posted January 23 Aldrion Phect Green ones? Aldrion looked back at the fence, more carefully this time. The reflective purple had stood out, but there was also red, orange, yellow... but no green. Aldrion wasn't sure what Ma'am knew was missing, but she definitely seemed to be missing something physical as well. "I'm not seeing any green glass, Ma'am. Do they change color, or are you missing more than you thought?" As for the spider in the bush, Aldrion found himself wondering why it might be lingering, if it was avoiding Ma'am. Was there something else it wanted? Or something near here that needed doing? It might be more approachable if he could figure out what it wanted. 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 Understanding people's motives 7 1d10+1 6 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gryphon173 Posted January 23 Clone Share Posted January 23 Shuistliel Shuistliel is a bit appalled that he appears to have triggered Xanah. "I was only teasing you, dear Xanah," he said. Embarrassed to have witnessed her embarrassment, Shuistliel instead focuses on the skullduggery part (just like Xanah, in point of fact). "I know a fellow who might be able to find us hired musc...I mean, help, but I'm not exactly rolling in Orbs, so it'd be better to find amateurs willing to lend a hand," Liel says, tugging on his left earlobe and looking a little chagrined. "Truth is, outside of you, the people in the Order, and a handful of others, I've been pretty much a recluse. I need to get out more—and didn't expect district-covering spider webs and vicious hordes of ravens to be the impetus, either. "Still, anything that gets me out of the house can't be all bad." In fact, Liel did often go out, but it was usually at night and often not for purposes an upstanding individual might approve of. Xanah knows that in the Academy, Liel was one who could, well, obtain things for a price. Nothing magical there, just good old fashioned thievery, and always things that might ease a student along, never harmful things and never to cheat on magic. Just minor everyday things that needed to be smuggled into the Academy grounds. Comfort foods. A doll that reminded a student of home. Powders for dealing with personal issues that the customer didn't want anyone to know about. 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 Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Amora Posted January 23 Clone Share Posted January 23 (edited) Felicia Ainsworth The Maker rubbed gently at the back of her neck in thought as the Raven spoke making the problem all the more evident as it tried to preen and watch for more of the 'many-legs' at the same time. She worked with life and lifeless in equal measure but for all the lightness of her touch, she wasn't a healer but as her crimson eyes wandered... The disparaging and murderous whispers of the horde contained within her body and soul only committing her spitefully to the course as she began to search through the knicks and knacks any maker worth the title carried on their person. She had worked with many delicate mechanisms in the past and what was a raven if not a mechanism of flesh and delicate bone? She would need the poor thing to trust her, of course, but she was certain under those contexts that she could stabilize the wing, perhaps even restore it's function with a bit of clever engineering... Either way, it was a faded little tidbit of knowhow to splint a wing that she recalled from a conversation with... someone? A few extra steps past that with a shrouded spring here, a ball joint with a little restriction there, and just a smidge of magic... She just had to find just the right pieces and parts among her collection, her attention only deviating from the search to ensure the Raven was still there, still well, and there was nothing untoward happening around them. A glance paid in kind towards it's cousin trapped in the tree to ensure it hadn't hurt itself or become victim of something else that'd require far more immediate action while she addressed and stabilized her present... patient for lack of a better term. "I've an idea for that wing-pain of yours but will you trust me?" Felicia asked in the croaks, caws, and crows of the Raven's piercing tongue as she looked down to the gathered shiny parts before her and started taking a measure of the bird's dimensions, it's wing span, and other little details of pertinent to the project before her. The only thing she needed to know is just where the structure of it's wing had been compromised and, well, the nature of that compromise. (Healing/Building a steampunk splint) 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: 2/3 Perception: 4/4 Qualia Sorcery: 6/6 Interaction: 3/3 Intellect: 2/3 Sortilege: 1/2 Hidden Knowledge: 9 Injuries: Wounds: Anguish: Rests: 1 round, 1 round, 10 minutes, 1 hour Edited January 23 by Amora (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls (Helping the bird SyntaxError: Unexpected token ) 2d10+2) (Healing/Building a steampunk splint) 10 (2d10+2) 7,1 Intellect 5 1d10 5 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TheRaconteur Posted January 24 Author Clone Share Posted January 24 (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." "Pointless facing any sort of day without breakfast." Marjolene pointed out from where she was behind the counter, taking a moment's respite to affectionately scratch the ear of the lazy old tabby. The cat in question purred in appreciation, but did not cease its vigil, eyes locked through the window and out onto the webbing entombed street beyond. She joined the creature, staring out the glass as the morning light hitting the dew caused it to begin to steam. "Beautiful, but strange. Treats are on the House today, considering you're putting your mind to that." And with the matter settled, she went back to minding her café. Outside the door, back on the cobblestone street, Stan had at last made his way down. The hunched Maker was positively covered in webbing, evidently haven taken to only clearing it away from his face and ignoring the rest of it. His long brown coat was covered in threads, glistening with the dew, and his thick workman's boots were entwined. His large hands were free though, perhaps because he still tended the crucible which burned brightly within its place of honor in the middle of his cart. Ma'am had gone back to her labors, moving over to the vegetable beds dropping down onto her knees to inspect them more closely. The squash were coming in nicely, and the carrots looked vibrant, but the pumpkins were small and withered things. "Only when they want to be, Phect." She answered, using his surname like she always did. "Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come in and help an old truth seeker find some answers?" She motioned towards the gate, a curved archway of intertwining vines, heavy with golden flower buds that he'd never seen bloom. Vines streaked in from all sides of the archway to bar his passage, but as he approached he heard a slithering sound, and like a great iris they began to retract. She'd evidently passed through at least once, because he could see destroyed webs stuck to the edges of the archway as he passed beneath. The gate, the garden, and the fence must have been more recent additions, because her home was very obviously a carriage house. There should have been flat cobblestones going straight up to the building's wide and tall main door, allowing vehicles to pull right up. There wasn't though, at some point it had been replaced with a narrow path flanked on either side with grass and wooden vegetable and flower beds. The smell of petrichor filled the air as he left the path, returning to the thornbush he'd been inspecting before. His search didn't result in any more successes than it had when he'd been standing on the other side of the fence, at least, not at first. Looking down on the bush from above, he saw no indication of his quarry. It was only when he crouched down and looked at the bush from a different angle that he found what he was looking for. Not just one, either, two of them huddled together. They were difficult to see in the shadow of the leaves, hidden amongst the thorns, but they did not scuttle away when he spotted them. Each the size of a small marble, they looked almost like they had red spotted mushrooms on their backs, but peering closer he realized that was just their abdomen. Or maybe their thorax? He wasn't sure. They noticed him staring at them, waving their front legs at him menacingly, but he noted that they didn't run away. He wasn't what they were hiding from. Felicia had some silverLevel 1 Material with her, as well as a little glassLevel 1 Material. The glass wouldn't be much good for a splint, but the silver could work in a pinch. She took it out of her bag, a single bar about the thickness of a pencil. Not exactly ideal, but if she returned to the manor and got a jeweler's hammer she could work it into something workable. It would be light enough to do the trick, if she could convince the bird to agree. The Raven looked at her skeptically, tilting its head back and forth, and then took a little hop backwards. "Snake-stick, spider-friend. Many-eyes, snake-friend?" It croaked, taking the tiniest of hops forward and then another backwards. It was difficult to discern what its tone was, as she'd never been taught the Secret of Speaking to Ravens before, so she didn't have a lot to go off of. The slightest upward inflection on the last warble had suggested a question though, if she could discern the meaning. A great torrent of small voices began shouting, words mingling from dozens of throats. "Spider-friend. There-below. Find-them. Peck-Them. Eat-Them!" It took Felicia a disorienting moment to understand that these new words weren't coming from the Raven at her feet, but from the unkindness above. Looking up, she saw dozens and dozens of the birds were beginning to swoop lower. At first, she thought they might be coming to intervene with her own activities, but as she looked she realized that whatever had them all agitated was coming from the other side of the hedge. Not her property, but the old carriage house her grandfather had sold off ages ago Edited January 24 by TheRaconteur (see edit history) Name xDiceName xDiceResult xDiceString xDiceRolls Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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