I apologize for being extremely slow to respond in here. Have been ill and can't brain. x_x
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Sorry. New government, been absolutely ridiculous amounts of work -- would have been relatively easy to have a quick reactive post, but instead, I have to deal with the whole sister and her boyfriend thing... Plus, you know, the fae. ;) New government? Are you Canadian, by any chance?
Present. No brain for posting. Sorry.
1d3 has an average roll of 2, so if you subtract 2 per die, you get a result spread of -1, 0, +1 (per die).
How do you roll fate dice on here? 4d3-8+Skill
Oladon/Mathar: I've been unable to find controls with which to do this. Suggestion in Paizochat is that it's automated after some period of your inactivity. Seekerofshadowlight: Your safe-route, which is good for six more minutes, leads into the souk outside Little Shanghai dome. It's effectively the local equivalent of the Shades, and any sting on After that, you're free to choose a spot to plan your heist. Or just go for a vehicle and figure it out while you catch up with the courier.
DM, would you remove me please? Certainly. As soon as I figure out how.
Now that the never-ending migraine has been vanquished, we are moving. Post away!
Treppa: Fate character sheets work best when they're short and sweet. I remember a note from either the System Toolkit or the 4.0 core book to the effect that number of aspects & stunts need to be kept limited or you end up with players getting a bad case of analysis paralysis at the table. DSX: Morien's gear and aspect are updated. Thanks for letting me keep the car!
Rags, you have nailed the definition of Fun. ;) DSX: Can I use the story arc transition to replace an aspect? "Albatross Luck" is insufficiently specific and I don't see it getting used much. I'd like to swap it for "Where Were You When York Burned?" to represent Moriens' frustration at waiting on the sidelines, away from the rest of the party and all the action. Just because it was required by forces beyond her ken (i.e. OOC concerns) doesn't mean she's happy about the result.
And now anyone who wants a place in the new supernatural power structure of York can make a bid. Next chapter's going to be fun!
I'm waiting on Kenneth before I post for Morien again. Also, hi. Long time, no see. :)
Who's Sylvia?
DH's dissertation defense was this afternoon. Consensus of the committee was that this thing is good to go. In other words? *ding* DH has just gained a level in Awesome.
Hey, stranger! I'd wondered where you got to. Talk to me about RoW soonish, hm? :)
95F (35C) here. And humid. So long as it's ice tea, I'll go with that.
I've melted and I can't get up. -_-;;;
I like that. Waiting for the next installment with bated breath. :)
Yay! I'll go for +1 vs. magical compulsions. Seeing people who've gone through the initiation as more reliable for Apocrypha business is entirely reasonable and likely.
We all seem to be making up names to call Poppy Patient Zero behind her back. That one's farther afield than most, though.
Caorann's initiation in three vignettes: -------- It's the boredom that gets to you, Caorann reflected. Not responding to the lures whose danger you knew or could reasonably suspect. Always standing a step behind oneself to watch for outside influence. In the warm glow of the Staff Lounge's eternal lamps, the robed figure prowled like a caged tiger. The room echoed, ever so faintly, with the soft rustling sound of words adjusting themselves to their meaning. Her footfalls were all but silent on the heavy rugs. She paused before a roughly human-sized statue in banded onyx. It appeared non-representational, but the artist had a true knack for shapes that... suggested when seen out of the corner of ones' eye. The glance that had stopped her seemed to depict an aboleth doing something unspeakable to a humanoid of unclear species. Or at least, not clear any more. Caorann found herself rather glad that was the case. Upon examination, the inscription picked out in gold leaf on its base of dark-lacquered wood read "What do you love?" - Caorann's stomach lurched. She grimaced and looked aside. It was a mistake. This time, the shapes and their reflection of lamplight made dancing shards of flame. The ridges and pits of stone for a moment resembled the architecture of the Wise Quarter, burning. Her head snapped back around to the statue, eyes wide in shock. The amorphous lump of stone remained inscrutable. On a hunch she checked the inscription, but the words were no different. It clicked in her mind. She muttered, "You bastard," leaving unclear whether she meant the object or its creator. This time she closed her eyes, turned her back, and strode away. -------- In the incongruous light of a window that looked upon the Elemental Plane of Fire, the Nethys-masked woman ran her fingers along the row of leather-bound spines neatly arranged on a shelf, pointedly ignoring the one that bit her. Instead, she pulled out a worn folio of decaying parchment and flipped through it. The first pages held a lineage - Caorann's own pedigree, beginning in the earliest days of Taldor. Interesting that names of those who failed to inherit were struck out. Including her own, of course. After that, dire prophecies of the fate of her family's lands and vassals with a cousin at their helm rather than herself. And then one for her personally, with the scales of judgment weighted by her flight from the chains of honor and duty. Caorann scarcely noticed the room fading away around her. She was confronted by a demon watching over petitioners as they approached the Abyss. The vast limbless creature had a woman's face and body, but her torso split into countless snakes at the waist. A tail slammed into the ground behind her and she staggered as the substrate of the Plane trembled beneath it. Another struck the ground in front. Each one was thicker than Caorann was tall. The demon's mocking grin loomed nearer overhead. And then she was standing in front of the bookshelf, folio held closed between her hands. Her heart raced with the thunder of blood in her ears. Nonetheless, she meticulously straightened the folio's pages, gaze fixed straight ahead to avoid looking at any of them. Once Caorann had caught her breath, she whispered to the book, "You have the wrong person. That one died at her own choice, so that I could live." Her tone was sad, but there was also steel in it. "I will not dishonor her memory by trying to wear her life like a snake crawling into another's cast-off skin." She slid the folio back into its place among the books with the finality of an executioner's axe. -------- The masked priestess in her harlequin robe rested on the ornate couch like a tethered falcon. Though her arms were outstretched along its back, her shoulders were hunched, and she glared up at the faded and slightly moth-eaten tapestry on the opposite wall. It was so close and she longed to touch it. Caorann was certain that was precisely what its enchantment intended. But it was far from what had raised her ire. No, the reason for that was far more simple than any magic. She had watched it for these long hours with every sense she could muster, painstakingly applied all the lore she knew. And still it refused to yield up its secrets. What had the weavers' intention been, making an image of Nethys with his blasted and whole sides reversed? Was it a warning? Evidence of an ancient or marginal dispute over doctrine? Merely the artist thinking it looked better that way? It did show an interesting impression of his ascent to divinity… but its inaccuracies left the rest suspect. Why, for example, was His Omniscience portrayed as a woman? Handedness and gender were nearly the only two invariant properties in his depictions. Dawn crept through the windows, but this was merely another piece of information - the tapestry appeared the same in daylight as with the lamps. Caorann started halfway to her feet when the Curator cleared his throat behind her. "That piece originated in Azir before the Oath Wars, and came to us by way of Cheliax. I do not recommend attempting to make use of it; others who have done so have yet to return." Curator Vhrest regarded the priestess levelly while she struggled to assemble her shattered thoughts into words. After a long moment, she simply nodded.
-------- A.N.: It's short on the recommended feelings of camaraderie, but Caorann's past leads her to form such things slowly.
Glad to hear it went smoothly - may your recovery be as swift.
...if anyone feels so inclined to write a fun description of his/her initiation night spent alone in the Staff Lounge... Not required, but what I am looking for will be something unique, some kind of test of character that your character presumably passes on their own merit. Challenge accepted.
The one that stands out most right now is that Kassil's Saturday night Eclipse Phase game was epic. We ended up with 10 people, which even in a horror scenario, actually made it feasible to split up. We were all living and working on the edge of Sol system, in a little space station attached to a massive radio antenna array. And now we woke up in sickbay: in our backup bodies, with a 2-week hole in our memory (since we backed ourselves up prior to going out to assist a ship which had been experiencing trouble with its fusion plant), with the wifi that normally connects to our brains being actively jammed, and with only a recorded message from the station AI asking us to show up at the server room and implement repairs ASAP. As soon as we left sickbay we found that just about all of the station maintenance bots were doing various things to try to kill us, personally. Then it got worse! :D
PSA: I'm back from Paizocon! Was very fun, and very tiring. I'll get back to posting shortly. Also, we might be gaining another couple PCs. One who really liked EP when he played at Paizocon, and one who's the GM for another PBP I'm in here.
PSA: I'm back from Paizocon! Was very fun, and very tiring. I'll get back to posting shortly.
PSA: I'm back from Paizocon! Was very fun, and very tiring. I'll get back to posting shortly.
Take care, Rags!
Geographic map of Mars is up. The one in Sunwards distorts features E/W of the zero point. This is the more familiar Mercator projection, which distorts N/S. T-18h:25m to Seattle.
No problem - I'm getting ready to fly to Seattle. T-2d:0h:15m.
Welcome back!
Treppa: Yep.
Rags: Welcome back! Tilnar: Have a great time!
So the lineup currently looks like:
I cast stilled Mage Hand and rearrange the collection so that the box is at the center, Venn-diagram style. It can then fit into any or all zones.
L3 sounds about right for characters that have been able to prove both their competence & discretion, but who aren't too powerful/otherwise important to send on what might be a fruitless search.
I have been told to join no questions asked, so here I am. No questions asked. Nor any answered. *bows in welcome*
Caorann is going to be a battlefield controller type, I think. Very much 'stand back and cast'. Anybody got a tank in the works?
Zeno's term paper? Came back from the dead this past weekend. I killed it at precisely midnight last night, and it's now confirmed dead with grade. Three down, one to go. *cracks knuckles*
The cleric of Nethys places the fabric tassel bookmark back into the tome she was reading before looking up, face unreadable behind the simple black-and-white mask. "To save the world for its virtues or shatter it for its flaws is always the question. But if it is to happen at all, calamity should not be a matter of mere accident. If that means instructing the owner on an objects' safekeeping, or purchasing it from them, well and good. If it cannot be kept safely, or the owner acts with reckless disregard..." The priestess tilts her head slightly to one side, and her level tone is uncommonly delicate when she continues, "If that is the case, then it may need to be removed to the hands of caretakers of proven experience and good judgement." The cleric looks around the room once to be sure that the nuances of her opinion are understood, then settles back into the armchair and returns her attention to her book.
Nah, the paper itself was a bioinformatics thing. It's just been half done, then 3/4 done, then 7/8 done.... And now it's gone. :)
Zeno's term paper is DONE. I'd like to get wildly drunk right about now, but I've got another paper due Friday that I haven't even started.
Rags: You've been the most consistent player in here, so far as I can tell. Certainly we owe you some slack when you need it.
FYI, the Mote looks basically like this: http://proafile.com/archive/article/no_school_like_the_old_school but scaled up enough for a minimalist to live on. For better control in high winds than the proa design offers, she's rigged in a style more familiar to Europeans & Americans: http://www.kinderindustries.com/images/mercury-keelboat.jpg As I mentioned in the original description, the "rail" around the edge is 3-4" high and mostly serves to keep you from losing objects overboard if you happen to drop them. (In rough weather, Morien clips a line to her belt.) So I'm wondering what Molly is leaning on? ;)
Go for it! They've earned 'em.
Thank you; we escaped. :) At that point it was Detroit, which is surprisingly modern and well-appointed considering the area it's in. DH and I are crashing on the couch of two very kind friends in Palo Alto for a night, before we move on to the (terribly expensive, paid for by family) hotel where the reservation block for the wedding of one of my cousins-in-law is. Family-related stuff will take up the next three-ish days, most likely, then we'll be free for Monday, and Tuesday will be eaten by the trip home.
Woo! Posting from airport hell.
Long may your luck hold. (For those who haven't been listening to me complain for the past month and a half, I had the common cold turn into 'asthma is trying to kill me'. As of today, I'm off the strongest of the medications used to control it. We'll see what happens.)
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