DM Fatespinner - IK's page

As the trio opened the massive oaken doors, they witnessed the cathedral in it's full splendor. Huge archways supported the vaulted ceilings, each one decorated with cinquefoil tracings and intricate scrollwork where the arch met the outer walls. The walls themselves were set with niches for the Ascendants every so often in the main hall.

Just inside the entrance, a young page stepped forward to greet them. Upon explaining the purpose of their visit, the boy conducted them to the infirmary on the southern end of the building. Once there, a priest whose hands were still bloody approached with a grim countenance. The moans and cries of the wounded echoed through the stone halls.

"Yes? What can I do for you?"

Sorry about the extended delay guys. I wanted to make the description of the cathedreal very grand and deep, but time constraints and my workloads have not been terribly conducive to this. In the interest of just "getting on with it" here's my brief continuity bridge. Just assume that the cathedral is suitably grand and awe-inspiring. It's very pretty. Marvel of the modern world. All that. Yes. Carry on.

Thunker raised a palm as the group approached, taking another drag from his pipe before flicking the ashes into the water. "No need t'pay again. I's headin' that way anyway. C'mon then."

Thunker reached up to assist the passengers with boarding before pushing off from the dock. A quick jaunt across the primary waterway brought the group to the base of the magnificent Church of Morrow, it's alabaster columns rising dozens of feet into the air and intricate sculptures of the Ascendants arrayed along the street directly in front of the massive oaken doors.

The building itself was sturdy but showed signs of weather and age. Small cracks could be seen in the marblework, the finish on the wooden door had been stripped in places and, to the west, an entire wing of the church had been covered in scaffolding, likely for renovation or reconstruction purposes.

Claudian and Ashleigh:

Thunker lazily lifted his head to regard the approaching group, a trail of pipe smoke wafting away from his mouth as he raised his oar to signal his presence. The gondolier was indeed right where they'd left him. The Church of Morrow dominated the opposite shoreline from the Quad. It would take only a minute to cross the port.

"Assuming we have your permission to remove both ourselves and the object in question from your presence, good sir?"

The lieutenant nodded. "The item was within your company's cart, Mr. Thatcher. It's yours to do with as you please. Hopefully it will lead you to some answers. Should you return and have any further questions for myself or my investigative team, my name is Lieutenant Barrows."

The lieutenant gave a polite wave of the hand to dismiss the group to the temple.

The temple itself is actually on the opposite side of the main waterway from the Quad. It would be an absurdly long walk to go all the way around the port on foot, but it would be a relatively short ferry. Thunker is right where you left him.

The lieutenant twisted his face in consideration of the thought, then simply shrugged. "I suppose it's possible, though even for a Kossite woman the height we've been provided with is extreme. It's entirely possible that the witnesses were not able to gauge her truthfully and simply let fear enlarge her in their mind. It's also possible that this woman may have been some Cryxian abomination. I wish we had more to share with you, but that is simply not the case."

Just a correction on the following statement:

And yes, they did have a leader, a big tattooed mongrel of a Scharde witch that seemed to be leading them, but sure as I stand before you, she died with more metal in her body than these cursed curs here. Saw her put to the flame with my own mine eyes, no mistake. And good riddance."

The leader of the Cryxians was male, not female. Ian may have misread my spoiler. It seems a small detail, but I didn't want anyone thinking that the spellcaster that the Jackals brought down had somehow returned.

The lieutenant waived his hand to dismiss the deputy standing nearby before replying. "Unfortunately, the descriptions we've received are all quite vague. Evidently, a rather tall woman, over six feet by most accounts, wearing a strange helmet and dressed in black clothing was seen around the time of the incident, fleeing from the carnage. The witnesses we've questioned so far can't seem to agree on which direction she left the Quad from, but I'm relatively certain that she would've headed west towards the nearest gate out of town if she has anything to do with this incident," the lieutenant paused a moment. "Unless, of course, she has some reason to continue hanging around. I would imagine that a woman of such noteworthy stature would have some difficulty hiding in Corvis, though."

Ashleigh:

The lieutenant raised his brow at Ashleigh's statement, lifting a finger to silence the guardsman giving him a report from one of the witnesses.

"Hmmm... I see. However, beacon or not, it still doesn't explain how the raiders were able to stow away within your wagon unnoticed. It would also seem that a few of the witnesses claimed to see another individual amongst the carnage, a woman by most accounts, who fled the scene almost as quickly as she appeared. The descriptions we have for her are vague to say the least, but if she is still at large and is somehow responsible for all this, we've got our work cut out for us," the lieutenant smirked slightly. "Perhaps the Jackal's Grin would be so kind as to take an assignment on behalf of the City of Corvis to track down this individual, hm?"

It wasn't hard for Ashleigh to determine that this wasn't so much a request as a thinly-veiled demand to avoid having charges pressed against the company.

The assorted Cryxian corpses all appear to have various mechanikal modifications implanted throughout their bodies and several of them do indeed have metallic jaws. However, the equipment implanted in the abominations is universally shoddy and rusted while the jawbone found within the wagon appears to be a finely crafted (if somewhat macabre) piece of machinery.

Sy'yll:

Claudian's brief glance inside the wagon reveals nothing else of interest. A few boxes of ammunition, a couple of leather packs filled with rations and clothing, and other sundries that would all seem to make sense in the context of a mercenary convoy.

Sy'yll came to stand a few feet away from the other two and crossed her arms as she watched Galbraith inspect the item. "What do you make of it?" she asked, then reached her hand out toward the man-at-arms. "May I? There is some writing there..."

Going to see if she can read the script. If necessary, she'll use read magic.

The language is unknown to you, but it does not appear to be a magical script. Comprehend Languages would probably work, but read magic doesn't help.

Repost of the description for everyone else: "Closer inspection reveals it to be a metal jawbone (roughly human sized) with a hole drilled through the sides (presumably to attach it to something with a bolt). The teeth mounted within the jawbone are very sharp and made of a different material, possibly silver. There are also numerous strange markings on the piece, though none of them mean anything to you. A cursory inspection of the Cryxians reveals that none of them seem to be missing a jawbone."

Claudian reaches over the edge of the wagon and takes ahold of the jawbone, discovering it to be cold (but not unusually so) and as heavy as one would expect a solid piece of iron to be.

No big deal. Unfortunately, you're really at a point where the characters are going to be getting together to discuss recent findings and whatnot. Even if you can only get a post in every 3 days or so, it should be fine. I'm used to PbP being slow as hell.

Ashleigh:

Sy'yll:

Ashleigh:

"By all means, Mr. Thatcher. Any light you can shed on this situation is more than we have currently." The officer gestured to the wagons and nodded at a few nearby guards to allow Ashleigh access to the wagons.

Approaching the wagons, the stench of death became more noticable than it had been from far away. The scent of rotting corpses mingled with the stink of whatever fuel had been burning within the Cryxians' boilers, an acrid smell that was equal parts coal and sulfur.

The lieutenant nodded along as Ashleigh recounted his tale. When he finished, the young officer scratched his chin, casting a wary eye at Claudian as he approached the corpses but said nothing to him.

"And you're certain that none of these creatures could've somehow stowed away on your wagons? Did any of your men take some of the Cryxian bodies, perhaps thinking that they were dead? Your story sounds legitimate, Mr. Thatcher, but I'm having difficulty figuring out how so many of these things could've possibly gotten into your wagon without someone knowing about it."

Is there even enough wagon to conceal the amount of dead cryxians we have on hand?

Yeah, your wagon train consists of three SUV-sized wagons. They're fairly loaded with supplies, but eight Cryxians could stash themselves in there. The issue is, how did they stash themselves in there without being noticed? They've got effing steam engines built into them!

The guard raised a brow at Ashleigh's question, nodding shortly thereafter. "Oh sure, more folks livin' than dead, thank the Ascendants. A few of 'em were wounded and got shuffled off to the cathedral. I think a few of the Jackals and a couple of merchants got scraped up, but by and large most folk're fine. We're just lucky the Longgunners were here," the guard indicates the bullet-riddled Cryxian bodies.

The lieutenant chimed in immediately afterwards. "Mr. Thatcher, have you or your company had any recent contact with Cryxian raiders? If so, when and where?"

Sy'yll:

Everyone else:
Sy'yll wanders around the scene, observing the mechanical corpses. She happens upon one that seems to be running out of juice, it's spasms weak and intermittant. As the Nyss watches, the twitching slowly grinds to a halt and it collapses fully to the ground.

Claudian really wants to smash that scraping claw with his mace-head, but he knows that might goof up the investigation at some point...

Hehe, yeah, the guards wouldn't appreciate you trashing the crime scene. If the scraping bothers him that much, Claudian could go sit on the dock with Thunker. You can't really hear it down there.

For what it's worth, did you notice that I added a bit more information to your 'cursory examination' after you made your reply? It's nothing terribly significant, but might be worth noting if you didn't already catch it.

The guard that Claudian addressed gruffly quickly shuffles back a step, looking up at the huge man with slightly fearful eyes. He quickly regains his composure, however, and furrows his brows.

"I don' much appreciate you tryin' t'tell me 'ow t'do my job. It's a right ghastly thing, f'sure, but I'm not takin' one step towards the thrice-damned things 'til they run outta steam. Ye can't be too sure it's dead, eh? 'Sides, they say these things're rigged to blow up if'n y'beat on 'em too much. I's got kids t'think about."

The scratching continues unabated.

Claudian's cursory examination reveals little information. A head count puts the number of casualties at sixteen, eight of which are Cryxian mechano-thingies. Three of the bodies appear to be armed and armored men, probably the Jackals, and the other five seem like civilians. There are lots of bullet holes in stuff. The bodies seem to spread outward from the Jackal's supply wagons, suggesting that the attackers did indeed emerge from within the wagons themselves.

Randomly bumping this thread because I feel like it... and to handle any scene clarifications you may require of me.

Ah ha, I thought that might be the case; vaguely remembered from the earlier game. I tried looking it up the casting language online today but couldn't find anything. However........ I did discover on one of the sites (privateer press) that the Nyss language isn't Shyr, but Aeric. So..... she casts in the Iosan language? Is she even allowed to HAVE the Iosan language??

Also... detect magic isn't a 60ft cone?

D'oh! You're right on both counts. Shyr is Iosan, Aeric is Nyss. You'll want to change that on your sheet. I always forget that part. And yes, detect magic is a 60 ft. cone. Still, the results of the spoiler are the same.

FYI, you wouldn't be casting in Draconic. Unlike other settings, the only people who speak Draconic in IK are the dragons themselves or their direct, hideously-mutated servants. You'd be casting in Shyr, which is equally incomprehensible to everyone around you. Also, if you would, could you please update your character sheet with the number of spells you're able to cast at each spell level? Thanks.

Sy'yll:

The young officer narrowed his eyes, his lip curling slightly in thought as a faint 'hmmm' escaped him. His eyes settled on the Nyss as he pondered, perhaps subconsciously, perhaps not. He seemed to hesitate before accepting Ashleigh's hand, but finally did so before speaking.

"I see. Well, Mr. Thatcher, Sergeant," he paused, shaking Claudian's extended hand as he did, "Ma'am, I don't think there'll be any further violence tonight but your testimony would be of great interest to my superiors. Follow me."

The young man led them up the cobbled stone ramp and into the marketplace proper, barricaded off from major streets by watchmen and guard dogs. The dogs seemed decidedly ill at ease and, as the group approached the scene of the recent trouble, it became abundantly clear why.

The air was eerily still as the group approached the Jackal's Grin wagons. All around the supply train were bodies, at least a dozen by estimation. A couple of them were obviously merchants or perhaps customers who had been ravaged by the Cryxian raiders. A couple more were immediately recognized by Ashleigh as men who'd been assigned to the duty of securing more supplies for the company. One of them, a human man who Ashleigh had spent some time playing cards with over the last few weeks by the name of Jonas, had been utterly devastated. His chest had a hole blown clean through it and his face was so badly marred by claws that he was practically unrecognizable. The only reason Ashleigh could even determine his identity was the gilded dagger protruding from his boot sheath. Jonas had won the thing at a gambling house in Five Fingers several years ago and considered it a good luck charm. It would appear that his luck had finally run out.

Most of the corpses, however, were hideous things: Humanoid creatures melded with mechanical parts in a sick perversion of life. The bulk of their mechanical elements distorted and twisted their figures to the point of being completely inhuman. Steam still seeped from a few of the bullet-riddled bodies and a few of the grotesque figures still twitched and writhed on the cobblestones, their internal engines unwilling to yield to death even as the spark of life had clearly long since faded. The claws of one such creature scraped maddeningly along the paving stones, sending out metallic screeches that echoed in sharp contrast amidst the quiet night air.

Standing well away from this macabre scene were several watchmen, each either questioning a witness of the event or keeping an eye out for any sign of the monsters' reanimation. The lieutenant allowed the trio to take in the scene for quite some time before speaking again.

"This is it, ladies and gentlemen. If you have any ideas what in Morrow's name caused all this to come about, I'm all ears."

The boatman tilted his head in appreciation of the tip and nodded at the charismatic young man's request. "And speed you'll have."

Thunker waited for the group to board before pushing away from the dock and moving into the current, paddling as fast as safety allowed down a major waterway. The journey to the Quad was not long by boat, a simple trip down a long straightaway on the north end brought the group into the main river that ran through the center of Corvis, where numerous larger river-faring vessels were moored. On the river, the splendor of the City of Ghosts was evident all around them - gaslights and lanterns cast dancing reflections across the black midnight water as they made their way towards the Quad on the western end of the town's watery heart. The archetecture was equally stunning, featuring an array of ionic columns, flying buttresses, and intricately detailed (if somewhat aging) frescos and bas reliefs cast in weathered marble on all the buildings that faced the main thoroughfaire.

As the group neared the Quad, Claudian noted the unusual quiet that had fallen over the normally boisterous district. Now, only a handful of voices could be heard ahead and many merchants had vacated their carts in the face of the recent violence. Over the dark wooden railing that surrounded the Quad's cobbled square, one of Corvis's night watchmen peered out onto the water and spied the group's approach. He raised a curious eyebrow at the sight of Sy'yll but seemed otherwise calm as he approached the ramp at the edge of the dock that Thunker had arrived at.

"Evening folks. The Quad is restricted to civilian traffic in light of recent activity. If you have reason to visit the marketplace at the moment, I'm going to need to see some credentials," the young watchman spoke. He was probably no older than twenty, but he bore the stripes of a Watch Lieutenant and his cadence was cool and professional, suggesting far more experience than might normally be assumed. Thunker remained moored at the dock as the party vacated his vessel, hanging around long enough to see if they would need a return trip right away.

FYI, this is Corvis. The Quad is located at the southern end of where all the dock-looking things with the 'tall houses' at the ends of them are. The map is actually situated with North to the left, so the Quad is on the west side.

The boatman narrowed his eyes, weighing the opportunity for income against potential dangers. "You want me t'take you up t'the Quad not an hour after all the shootin' finally stopped?"

The man shifted his glance to the other, quieter persons on either side of Claudian. "Hmph. Fine then. Double fare, though. S'not a wise decision on my part, but I gotta keep me house after all."

The man unmoored the vessel as the party boarded, extending his hand for payment before placing his oar in the water.

The standard rate is 1 silver per passenger. Double fare means 6 silver total for the lot of you.

The boatman pulled back the blanket to show his face, raising at eyebrow to Claudian before slowly bringing himself to his feet. As he pushed the blanket aside, it was hard to miss the old-fashioned pinlock pistol in his hand before he returned it to a holster on his hip.

Thunker smirked at Claudian's approach, but his jovial smirk quickly turned apprehensive when he noticed the Nyss trailing just behind him. As the trio approached, the boatman spoke:

"Word on the water? What's the word on the street?!" he stated incredulously. "First I hear tell of a Cryxian invasion being put down at the Quad and not ten minutes later I see you walkin' up with a damn Nyss elf in tow! What the hell's going on, Galbraith?"

The trio approaches the dock where the boatman known as 'Thunker' tended to keep himself moored during the evenings. As the group approached, they could see the middle-aged man curled up in his ferry with a wool blanket, obviously napping while waiting for potential customers to happen by. Claudian knew him to be a reliable boatman who charged a fair coin for his services and, in a city like Corvis, it was not uncommon for ferrymen to rest in their boats. Crime against ferrymen tended to be low since, if the ferrymen found out about it, the perpetrator would likely have a very difficult time getting out of town without the ferrymens' aid. Thus, the Boatman's Guild of Corvis enjoyed relatively peaceful lives.

Sy'yll and Ashleigh:

Sy'yll only:

"Where's the ship, Mr. Thatcher?" he rumbled to his companion as they went.

Ashleigh:

Okay, it's peanut butter ultimatum time...

Yfel sighs, shaking her head at the elf and the others. "I am not in hurry to see monster things at Quad. You go. I will sleep."

With that, the barbarian stands and stretches, claiming her axe and moving upstairs. Her heavy footfalls echo down the stairwell until she reaches the second level and, presumably, her room.

Right... get on with it!

Okay, last chance. If I don't see something before I come into work tomorrow morning, I'm NPCing Yfel and will remove her from the story completely.

Yfel has been staring, slack-jawed, for 5 days. If I don't see a response soon, I'm going to rule that dry rot has set in and her face will collapse in a pile of ash.

Can someone who's frozen in time make a reflex save?

No.

Can we name the Warjack From Space "Bumblebee"? :D

No.

We seem to have... stopped. :/

Because no one is saying or doing anything. Yfel seems to be frozen in time, unable to respond! Oh no, whatever shall we...

*WARJACK FROM SPACE*

*wailing and gnashing of teeth*

For the record, I don't care if you guys all go as a group to investigate the Cryxians. Act as your characters would. Don't get tangled up on "But why would I go?" If you wouldn't go, don't go. You're not going to ruin my master plan or anything. Just post something so that we know whether you're going or not and I can advance the scene.

Otherwise, I'm gonna start dropping warjacks from space.

For those of you who are unhappy with your current avatar, Gary recently added a bunch more and you can change them at any time. You might want to take a look to see if you can find something more to your liking... if you care.

Jackdaedalus wrote:

Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't that come out roughly forever ago?

Yes. :P

Which means my 3-year-old hardware has no problems whatsoever with it, unlike World of Warcraft: The Video Card Upgrade Crusade. Everything was fine until Outland came along and made me hate life enough to cancel my subscription. Hellfire Peninsula wasn't too bad. Neither was Blade's Edge. Zangarmarsh was slightly problematic, Nagrand a little more so, and Netherstorm was f%@$ing unplayable. Shattrath was even worse, and I had to go there all the freaking time. So I gave up.

Maybe next year when I have uber-1337 h4x0r c0mput0rz, I'll go back to WoW and pick up the Lich King expansion. EVE is planning a major graphics overhaul for sometime next year as well, though, and they're $2/mo. cheaper than WoW is... and I like it more.

"Oy, Herod! Don't suppose I could buy a half firkin of whiskey off your night man? I'll make it worth your while..."

Herod narrowed his eyes incredulously at the young man. "What in the Ascendants' names would you need that much liquor for, boy? Moreso... where're ye gonna put it?" The weary bartender groaned slighly. "Oh fine. I s'pose 'twouldn't hurt none to make a few coin before bed. C'mere."

Herod opened up his liquor cabinet as the night man entered, pulling out a three-gallon iron keg. "Will that do? It'll be five crowns if you want it... though you might do better getting it wholesale at the Quad in the morning. Plus it'd save me the trouble of tellin' folks we've run dry until I can send Sarah down there to restock me. I've got maybe a pint or two left in th'other keg for the first couple that walk in after sun-up."

Faro nodded at the Colonel's statement. "Right," he turned to look at Ashleigh. "Why don't you head down to the Quad and take stock of the situation. I'm going to head over to the church with Bri and check on the wounded men. When you're finished sniffing around down there, come'n give me an update, yah?"

The question was rhetorical and no sooner had the words left his lips than Faro was out of his seat, beckoning for Bri to follow him out. She nodded, looking grim, and cast a worried look at Ashleigh before being ushered into the night by the Tordoran.

Meanwhile, the Jack's crowd had quietly begun to thin. Herod himself looked wearily at the Colonel who apologized for the disruption and made his exit. Finally, Herod clapped a wooden mug on the bar while Claudian was upstairs getting prepared. "Last call for alcohol, ladies and gents. We're closing the bar in just a few minutes. Those of you with rooms here for the night are welcome to stay down here, but the liquor cabinet will be locked and there'll be no food served 'til morning. Thank you."

Only a moment later, the night attendant for the inn walked through the door and took a set of keys from Herod who removed his apron and made his way out the door, headed for home along with his daughter. Many of the bar's patrons followed him out and the night attendant, a thin, haggard-looking man began to lock up the spirits, hardly paying any attention to the few people who remained behind - not even the one-armed trollkin.

Dare I ask what the new MMO is?

EVE Online

"Sir," he started, dusting off the reverence with which he'd addressed officers in the past. "Jackal's Grin Irregulars have been loyal to Lady Cygnar since the start. Might be there's more to the story. If I vouch for their good faith with my own service, will it calm your nerves so we can dig down to the bottom of it instead of swapping eye-knives all night?" he asked reasonably.

"Fine," the Colonel huffed, but seemed to be calming. "Head down there and poke around if you want. The Watch is all over the place down there and my men have posted themselves all around the Quad. There's not much left to see besides a few bloodstained cobbles and one o'yer wagons plus a few holes. We're headed out first thing in the morning to post a Khadoran border patrol near Llael, so after that point this becomes the Watch's problem. You're not likely to be well-received 'round here after that, so it might be good to watch that smug tongue of yours." He directed the last statement at Faro and Ashleigh. "You might want to get your supply wagons out of Corvis, too. Folks might take to pillaging you out of spite... and Morrow knows if there's any more of those damnable things crawling around in there that you don't know about."

The Colonel's expression was just as smug as Ashleigh's. There was not one bit of treachery in his words, and that fact filled him with pride. "See to your men if you wish. The live ones've holed up at the Church of Morrow. The dead ones oughta be at the morgue still. None of the ones who turned on us are still breathing. Of course... that fact doesn't stop most Cryxians, does it?" The implication of treason hung heavy in the air, regardless of the fact that it went unsaid.

The tavern door was still hanging open, and Ashleigh caught a glimpse of blue outside before it dodged away from view. Perhaps Graves was not as alone as it seemed...

Yeah, we should probably give Ali and Sasha a chance to catch up now.

Graves turned his withering gaze on Ashleigh now, narrowing his eyes through thinly veiled infuriation. "A little more than an hour ago. And if you weren't involved, as you claim to be, maybe you'd care to explain to me why the Cryxians were aided by a half-dozen of your own men? There was a hell of a firefight down there and we lost more than a couple to shots fired by people we thought should've been on our side. Have you got a bit of a mutiny problem on your hands?" The man's eyebrow raised in suspicion, waiting for an answer.

Graves focused his steely grey eyes on Claudian, and his anger did not appear to subside as his pistol was pushed aside.

"It's Colonel Graves now, Claudian. These aren't the trenches, but this sure as hell is Cygnaran soil and I've got more power here than you do, that's for damn sure." The colonel jerked his arm away from Claudian's grip, sending several patrons to the floor in fear that the firearm would discharge in their direction.

"The Cygnaran army is the law in Corvis and I'm none too pleased to have a handful of innocent people headed down to the morgue tonight on behalf of this bastard. You're lucky the Thunderbirds and I were out on patrol nearby, Faro. Otherwise you'd have a few more corpses on your hands and I wouldn'tve given you the luxury of ten seconds. Now answer me! Why the hell are you smuggling Cryxians into a Cygnaran city? Are you that daft and desperate for coin?!" Graves spat back at Faro, whose face was twisted in bewilderment.

"I swear on my family name, Colonel, I wasn't smuggling anything! Especially not Cryxian raiders! My team and I had a run-in with some Cryxians out west about a week or so ago, but we shot 'em up and cut 'em down! My people were all there! I've got good witnesses!" he gestured to Brianne and Ashleigh. Brianne nodded silently.

Brianne took the stage with a flourish, smiling widely at everyone in attendance. While the cheering was minimal due to the relatively small audience, there was a smattering of whistles and whoops nonetheless.

"Thank you all so much! It's a pleasure to be here tonight," Bri began with her typical lead-up. "As you may or may not know, I am one of several members of the Jackal's Grin Irregulars and many of my songs are dedicated to our-"

Her sentence was cut off by the abrupt slam of the front door of the bar opening. Standing in the doorway was the imposing visage of a Cygnaran military officer, clad in the brilliant blue and gold of his station. All eyes in the tavern turned to regard him and the well-polished military pistol and saber hanging at his waist. He bore the countenance of a man on a mission - a mission of dire importance.

Claudian recognized the man...

"Faro, you son of a b#&@%," the man seethed. "Give me one good damn reason why I shouldn't have you hanged tomorrow morning."

Faro stammered, completely taken by surprise. "I... wha..." he swallowed hard to regain a bit of composure. "What on earth for, Colonel?"

The man grabbed a meaty fistful of Faro's shirt and pulled his face close, only inches from his own. "Transporting enemy troops into Cyngaran territory, shithead!" The officer pulled the heavy pistol from his hip and pointedly cocked the hammer back, pressing the barrel tightly into Faro's temple.

Faro's face nearly fell off his head. "WHAT?! I've done no such thing! What in Morrow's name are you talking about?!? What enemy troops?!"

The Cygnaran officer shoved Faro away from him and into the bar with a resounding thud. Then he leveled the pistol at his face, his face twisted in a near-snarl. "Then you've got exactly ten seconds to explain why a pack of thrice-damned Cryxian necros came crawling out of your rig in the Quad!"

Faro blinked, obviously stunned and completely baffled. The Cygnaran started counting. "One... Two..."

Ashleigh:

All I know is if this was a game I was running, now is the part where something would blow up. preferably with the PC's in, on, or around it.

I'm not a big fan of the "force the PCs together with overwhelming violence" approach, especially not in the middle of Corvis' residential area. I have a plan, but it's not going to work like that.

Since everyone seems to be chomping at the bit for plot development, however, I'll make things blunt and accelerated.

DM Fatespinner - IK wrote:

I hope you're not expecting me to 'invent' a song for Bri to sing. 'Cuz it ain't gonna happen.

Hell with the song. Let's invent a PLOT DEVICE. >.>

You're too damn impatient. In PbP, it takes weeks to get something solid put together. A single storyline can take several months and a full campaign will run a year or more.

I hope you're not expecting me to 'invent' a song for Bri to sing. 'Cuz it ain't gonna happen.