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![]() Hands of the Lady Taking a deep breath that has obvious results; "I can help push these mortal men from their path, whether through subterfuge or other means if we are stop them." She smiles and beneath the coppery curls there's a golden hue when a beam of sunlight burns through the grey skies. The beach seems to warm up, as you suddenly realise it was cold. With a grace and confidence of a dancer, she moves, beckons the pair of men as they cross the sand. Seemingly, the trio are stood before the caravan park all of a sudden. But if they consult their memories, images and memories of climbing the cliff face and the bracing wind that invigorated there actions. From her presence and assuredness, Edwin feels an alien feeling. An old feeling of life and emotion that he forgot he knew about. ![]()
![]() Honeywood From beneath his beekeepers hood, he looks dour; "It is as I was afraid, they see to find access to the seal....and the break the barrier that has held." With a shake of his head; "We aren't too ready for such an attack, most of my brothers training is incomplete.... I don't know how much you know. However if the Fomour are to attack, in numbers against us - they might be able to breach somewhere vital and unleash some danger." "Would you be willing to help the Brotherhood?" He asks sincerely. ![]()
![]() ♪I don't want your money, honey...♫ "A bear! Oh my" he says jovially like a festive Santa; "I thought they ate honey not be squeezed for it! I'm sure they'd object." He continues to lead the pair across a tarmac area with a few sheds and out onto a lawn. Brother Belcher smiles beneath his hat, his voice drops an octave and some animation; "These should obscure our lips from being read, the sound of the hive should hinder observance of our conversation." he assures the pair as he moves towards a field with a few dozen white wooden boxes stood like monoliths and henges. The atmosphere is abuzz, not just the soft hum of the hive, but there seems to be a melody. "The Queen will decide if she'll meet you, Daniel. Yes, we are necessary, in this time and place, we are necessary to defend our gate." "But you need not worry, Ms American. You have the touch of the Lord upon you, whilst our friend her has his mothers eyes." The monk says softly looking between the pair, his eyes falling upon Danny's. ![]()
![]() By her Hand on the Beach She runs a hand through her short hair and sighs heavily, trying to work out what she's going to do. "Cannot the mortals be arrested, or paid off with stones? They seem to like them." she kicks some of the pebbles on the beach. "But I suppose some information about the fellows could be advantageous. What do you know?" She wonders as see looks at Edwyn. ![]()
![]() Economy of Honey Thus the Brother leads then out back, through a small office - pretty plain and normal at least from the pairs limited experiences in offices (partially those of the eccentric Brits). Upon the walls are a few calendars of historical landmarks and flowers, along with a few rather nice photographs and watercolours. Bellcher opens the door, put picks up a trio of gloves and hats with soft nets that cover the face. "Put these on, they should give you enough protection...if you feel you haven't enough already." He says jovially handing them out, but there's an undercurrent to his voice. "I think you'll find this very educational." He adds placing the hat over his head, "Let us introduce you to the hives, they like new folk and familiar faces alike." ![]()
![]() ...By Her Hand The woman with her pale skin looks to Kenneth quizzically, then curtsey's - then gives a nod the Edwyn. "I hope 'tis good to have met thee." She looks to the clouds racing like motorcars across the sky, varying hues of grey against each other. Steel on white. "But it is not certain, for things are in flux - I too have been drawn here, do you know where we are to next? Or am I to find out the route?" She asks, her soft lyrical voice barely louder than the waves. She walks to the shore where the waves meet the beech, her feet not leaving a mark, from the waves she picks up a twisted seashell, the length of her fore-arm. "We are to meet the Formor, upon the Isles?" ![]()
![]() "How is the old goat? Still chasin' skirt?" His voice is warm and rich, his eyes share the mirth. Shaking Danny's hand warmly, his eyes probe the young man and then flick to Sal.... "If you'd come this way, I can show you the hives?" He points towards the back, which seems like it'll lead to an outside courtyard to the rear of the facility. ![]()
![]() She inclines her head, "I was drawn here to the conjunction of the elements, at this time...at this conjunction. So I hear, the Formor have taken to the land again..." She gives a soft sigh. Lore 5: She is something Holy, something like that of the Knights of the Cross... but less mortal, there's something definitely powerful & Holy about her, a saint perhaps? ![]()
![]() Economic Growth The older lady behind the counter smiles, her grim gets even bigger at the lilting sounds of Sal's American accent. "Oh, how nice my dear. I'll just put these in our labelled carriers." she picks up a phone on the wall near the register and calls. A few moment later from a beaded curtain the back strides a man, of middling years but definite thinning hair cut short. Though the central plate is bald - however it seems that would have happened soon anyhow. His build at first could be mistaken for the heavier paucity of the creeping of time. But as he moves to the counter with a smile, you can see that it's a lean barrel build of muscle that is natural to his frame - that it his shoulders were broader he'd look intimidation - instead he looks jovial...but probably not less strong. From him is the soft odour of mead and honey. "How's it doing?" He asks with a smile. ![]()
![]() Guided as Her Hand Edwyn is guided by Kenneth, following a tug in his gut and the flicker of flame. Fire meets air meets water and meets the Earth They are drawn across the grass and fields, the soft crackle of grass, the clacking of pebbles and sharp smell of the salty seashore. The pair walk until they arrive at the start of the causeway, damp sand beneath their feet. From behind a small waypoint, a cairn of rocks comes a figure. Lithe and swaying with an internal music, but moving with strength of will and purpose. Her pale flesh, a sharp contrast to the red tattoo's that seemed to climb up her arms to the shoulders, like a living vine. Crimson hair not from a bottle but not the natural Celtic locks, seemingly a deep fire on cold winter nights. She looks to the pair and strides forwards;
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![]() Bren blushes, "Hijinks, well there's not too many of those around....not like when I was a young 'un. I suppose there's a few likely youngster who like a bit of fun at the campsite - you can hear the music sometimes. But around here is mostly all us of a mature nature or the monks." "And they make good booze, but don't like to get upto much hijinks. Well except for that one young lad, that time. But not sure he stayed there afterwards." she obliquely references an incident that happened to a random younger monk. ![]()
![]() "Oh pet. You've nah booked owt. Well, I suppose t' caravan park is the best - it's usually well booked - but I know the man in charge. And if he wants a decent pint, then I'm sure I can get you a place." She moves from bored to friendly quiet easily with her Tyneside accent getting thicker. "There's a little B'n'B, but that's Doris Grimshaws place and she's a bit of a pedant. You look more free spirits, to my eyes. I remember when I was your age going t' Costa Del Sol with the 18-30 crowd..." she drifts into a slight reminiscence. "But as far as things to do, depends what yopu like. Plenty of history - stuff about the Priory and St. Cuthbert - did you know he influenced not just the land, but that DnD that the young folks play." She tries to get back to the point as she brings over another round of drinks, including a large one for herself. "Oh there's plenty of lovely walks along the coast and on the island. Some nice teashops, she recommends a couple... the ruins and the priory is really the highlight....but the only night life is here. Or some hijinks that can go on the caravan site." she gives a big wink. ![]()
![]() The board barmaid in her mid forties, gets you a drink quickly and with a bored smile. The public house, the Lindisfarne Inn, despite not being on the Island itself is a straight-forward pub with mid-70's architecture and decor. The auburn haired woman smiles, and pours the drinks quickly - gets a few bags of crisps and pork scratchings for the group. As they sit at the comfortable tables and padded chairs. ![]()
![]() Holy Island Thus the group drive the 140 miles north up the A1, past all the roadworks that perennially are undertaken in the northern stretch. Past the moors and the Dales, towards the big northern cities nearly as old and grand as York. Then they cut off towards the sea side and the cold North Sea, full of cod, oil and trawlers. The small industrial towns stand out starkly against the verdant countryside, before long the roads narrow slightly as you reach a turn off. There's a small village with a caravan site, lots of fixed caravans for rent and a few tents. Also in the village is a pub, a small chain super market, a few essential services and shops and a few hundred houses spread radially from the road. Then nearly at the destination there's a 2 mile causeway, a small built up road that sticks out of the water for a few hours every day. As the group drive along it you notice the DANGER! signs, bright red - telling you to check the time table for vehicles can be washed away as the road is submerged during high tide. In the centre of the causeway are a few brilliantly white buildings - shacks on stilts to house those stupid and unwary enough to mistime their journeys. However, you all get across to the quaint old world village of Lindisifarne, with the ruins of the Abbey and the visitors centre. A big modern building built in sympathetic tones to the land. The village is not more than a hundred houses on a 3-mile long island cut off from the main-land of the country however a focus of Holy energies and protections. There's a soft hum in the atmosphere as at first it just seemed like the warm breeze, but the wind seems to call softly like Gregorian chanting to far away to understand the latin words. The village itself houses many quaint teashops, a tailors and some other tourist attractions. ![]()
![]() There's also the camp site just before Lindisfarne, where Mr Brackenthwaites boys are going to meet up. Then again McDonalds in the UK is much, much worse than the US. It's also significantly more expensive. Saying that in France it's not too bad & partially because BK couldn't break into the market. ![]()
![]() Good, analysis Treppa. Yep, on the kukri = Weapon:2 (just) but seems fair.
Yep Body Armour:2 requires either lose clothing or it's obvious you have something. Body Armour:1 can be hidden.
As for some other equipment, we can always make a roll when you get there (if things aren't planned) or spend Fate Point. ![]()
![]() So either a Contacts or Resources roll from Primarilly Sal, but anyone else can help. The better the roll the better the armament. However definitely enough body armour for all, more the police stab vests than the heavier army bomb disposal suits, but some normal British Army surplus is definitely available - just tell me what you want based on discretion and bulkiness. Shotguns, there will be a few options for smaller size shotguns with folding stocks.... for a sawn off one - we'll see the roll. A few hand guns and carbines may be available, but there's unlikely to be too many semi-automatic weapons....not too many. ![]()
![]() Ooooh that's a cool idea. Granted only 1 of the players has read more than 4 of the series. Unfortunately, 2 players dropped for tonight due to life (needing sleep & post surgery) So the game has been cancelled. The good news is - as you wrap up this scene I'll move it on the next morning to the caravan park near Lindisfarne. ![]()
![]() Interesting, I'm thinking a few social encounters at the Rave/Barn... not sure how malignant the Fey creature should be. Possibly some sort of bargain could be wrought. Since all of the players are newbies and I don't want too much combat. Encounters at Barn
All the while the Fey spirit from the stone circle is trying to cause trouble or/ stir up the emotions to feed off them....
Then the team have to decide whether and how to stop the Fey creature feeding off the debauching (& it probably wants to mess with time so it can feed for longer). Either through some direct conflict, wearing a mark of the Fey so it can feed through them...or promising a regular offering. ![]()
![]() Well I've just decided on the subtitle of my 1-shot. Jorvik: Raving Mad, which is great since this gives a theme, drugs, insanity and some trickster fey. Oooh, they should go to a mushroom patch that turns out to be near the stone circle & explore there for the final encounter... My other thought is to do a timeline for some heavy stuff that's happening and see how the group interacts with it. Rather than trying to create a storyline for them. ![]()
![]() Ok, so if it's Ok I'll put some prep for my Wednesday game here, and we can all add to it and help flesh it out - whilst enhancing your/our world. The 2 characters we have already are Mark & Jay, early 20 somethings with a minor power. They are basically slighty nefarious, like partying, having fun, drinking and being a bit wild. Fist 1-shot:
The boys were blackmailed by Saraya into getting something from Mr Boggins (a cobbler 'gnome') and taking it to the owner of the club Bunny dances in. They found the goblin market, missed Mr Boggins but got an introduction.
They went to his shop, got the 'parcel', left but were waylaid by a couple of weird Suits - they sold the suit the letter of introduction for £10k & one of their jackets... Then went to the strip club to deliver the parcel and party. So my idea for this 1-shot is they are out at a rave in an old barn, they'll be some heavies from Mr Brackenthwaite.
They will end up at one of the stone circles, for some fun times. ![]()
![]() "Well, you know where the reserve is? Both the cellar and the shed." He says with a suave understatement, the latter referring to the weapons safe. "I did have my cousin in the Highlands send over a nice crate of Scotch, I'll go fetch a bottle or 2." "Lindisfarne you say? Give Brother Bellcher my regards, if you could find a nice jar of honey that'd be good." He moves to the doorway to the kitchen to fetch the whiskey. "Do you require some food, we have some Voakes Pork Pies, a nice piece of beef...." ![]()
![]() As the group enter, a rather prim and trim man in a tailored suit walks out from a side room to the front study. "OH Gracious, Young Miss. I see you have brought some friends home." Fothergill waits for the affirmation, then his bearing changes from attention as his shoulders relax. There's a hint that the older gentleman, would have been prepared to throw-down if it was a negative. "Is there anything I can help you with?" He asks with a genuine helpful smile. ![]()
![]() Sorry, I'm really stuck in analysis paralysis: Ranger (shapeshifter): Track, Animal Aspects, Companion (@4th), Spells (@4th)
I'm so torn on the options, initially I didn't care about an Animal Companion. But it could be fun inconcert with Treppa's horse. The Hunter has some options for Teamwork feats for Oladon. Although I'm not super interested in alot of spells - some team healing is good. Certainly I don't care about summoning animals for combat. There's some fun unarmed combat feats, like panther style.... which works well with the "Saved" campaign trait. ![]()
![]() Personally, I find the more players in a pbp, it can lead to disenfranchisement - potentially. I'm happy with 5, but equally 6 is good :D As for party composition, I'm pretty happy to play whatever - my Lysander dude could be a number of classes. Or another idea I'm thinking of...is a bit more out there. Unfortunately, I'm not too keen on the smaller races - unless we do really want to go all in on tiny Heroes. ![]()
![]() Do we want to link our characters in any way? Background Idea: Lysander, a dirty blonde Varisian man with a hint of Ulfen blood. As a kid, his family caravan were travelling down through Varisia & into Last Wall when it was ambushed - Sandy managed to survive but the caravan was destroyed looted. Tousled hair, he escaped into the woods and hills where he lived. After taking a few scraps from the cart, including a couple of books and tools he hid out. Growing up on the edge of civilisation, it was at least a year before he gathered the courage to approach a town. Lysander is independent, has a hard exterior but a kind heart underneath. ![]()
![]() The wax of the seal begins to crumble under the holy fire of Kenneth's hands, releasing the soft smell of an old burgundy beside a winters hearth. As you open the paper, it crackles like an old fire accompanied by the sounds of a north wind. Upon the old paper is a decree, an ancient seal and responsibility & privilege for the owner of the establishment who's signed with a complex symbol or sigil. The writ is an invitation to "the Grand Summer Hunt" of the land, through Tuatha De Danaan & the Gods and residents herewith. It gives a place, dusk a few weeks hence & a small stone circle - a Fox Hunt with the Fair Folk of the Isles. Sorry, it's nothing to do with the current Fomour threat ![]()
![]() Tilnar wrote: I assumed that DSX's like on the post indicated that he was also interested, and so: This happened Sorry, yes I'm interested. I was having some monitor issues, but will get some posts up. Thanks for the map offer Treppa, my current GM is having issues with Roll20 after the updates. But we've been enjoying it. ![]()
![]() {ooc] Yep sorry.[/ooc] Spooky Sight: The room is stark and clean, everything is ordered and organised more than it seems in reality with a thin spiderweb tracing each page and paper together. Though this is not an alarm system, it is more of a network of organised chaos and designating certain items linked to other items.
There's a mortal, but organised feel, of cogs in a machine where any part is replaceable, with each individual being a fly in the web. A tasty morsel of information able to be doled out to the hungriest or best paying person. The whole room is impersonal but not part of an international conglomerate despite the information being wide reaching. Each of the threads seem to tingle and vibrate as the rest of the crew pick up papers and open draws. Small black mites or specks seem to scurry out and hang on the threads almost looking violently at the offender. The webs seem to have no centralised focus, but there is one strand that is unexpected - it leads to a simple manilla folder with a heavy wax seal. This emanates danger and age. ![]()
![]() Edwyn uses his professional knowledge and skills finding the best spots for files, checking out the edges of diaries and appointment books - checking the filing cabinets. At the bottom drawer of one cabinet is a fine bottle of Scotch that Kenneth recognises from a small brewery on the Orkneys - the owner of the office has some good taste in whiskey. Kenneth used to finding the truth of Brigid, uses her were-light to illuminate the office and search thoroughly. Sal is more interested in an old pistol that is found in the bottom of one of the cardboard filing boxes. Am illegal firearm, it's nowhere near the latest model of attachments - however enough to protect yourself or threaten people who harm your business interests. Interesting Information: CH, My boys will be up at Lindisfarne. Barn at Beal. If you could tell our mutual friends ready for midnight assault (tomorrows date). Brackenthwaite
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