I've uh... been gone from the pbp forums for like, a few years now. How's things going? Are you still recruiting for this game? I'd like to give it a shot if I can. It's been a long time so I kinda forgot how to format things at the moment... :/
I also received that email. So I believe either A: Someone at Amazon lied, or B: Someone at Amazon seriously screwed up. Either way, I agree that Paizo should try to get recompensed for this huge disruption of their business.
If they do either, I hope they take it further from camp... :P
I FINALLY GOT MY GLASSES! I CAN SEE! I CAN GAME! Sorry for being a little late, GM Ragnarok. I really just now got them and am trying to bust this out before Midnight MY time... :/Okay. So answering questions first:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ All right, on to finishing Pato's Background. Pato Bendo grew up with his parents on a Manollium-class herdship. His parents were relatively common botanists living among the 10,000 other Ithorians traveling the stars. While on the ship, they had Pato Bendo, who was an endearing type of child with a joy and gentleness for living beings and plantlife in general. However, his parents soon discovered that he was also connected to the force when they discovered him, still a pupa, restoring a small fern he had crushed when he was playing around. Pato Bendo further grew into his almost religious-like reverence for plant life and the force, but in the process felt further disconnected from his fellows in a social sense. After a few years of this, his parents discovered from a Meet (the pentannual meeting of herdships) of the presence of the New Jedi Academy and Luke's search for the Force-sensitive. They discussed it with their child and decided that even though Pato Bendo was just fine staying home and tending to his assignment of plants, that it would be better for him to grow up the rest of his youth with people who would understand him and feel what he's capable of feeling. Whether or not they understood what else there was to be faced in the academy, Pato Bendo might never know. Pato Bendo would be taking the next shuttle once their herdship reaches a nearby system.
Destiny: Rescue. Pato Bendo is a nurturing type and may save someone that no one else thinks needs saving. who it is, and what it takes to save them, is totally up to you to decide. Make it uncomfortable, if you want.
Oh Id totally drive. How hard could it be?
Shotaro taps his cane on the stones as he walks. Dressed in sackcloth clothes, this Tian looks to be fairly rough around the edges. Sun-weathered skin and dark hair that's bleached along the top from being exposed to the day, giving it a dappled brown appearance. He is surprisingly handsome with a sharp jawline and chin, his rough shaven appearance doing more to comport a feeling of rugged self-reliance than one of mere peasantry. A black silk strip of cloth, embroidered with violet lotus flowers, covers his eyes, an indication of blindness as well as the one item of comfort he seems to possess. Under his saggy peasant's clothing is several bands of treated leather, stitched together to protect his torso and thighs. Besides this armor is a pack that's scratched and worn, spattered with dried water spots. Despite this, the leather is thick, and the pack is of great quality under the wear and dirt. A spear is strapped to the pack, jutting almost entirely upright. The blind man continues his way along South Seneschal street, his cane tapping along the ground in front of him as he goes. He seems to move oblivious to the crowds, though he makes enough noise that most people avoid running into him. Nearing the bridge, he is stopped by a soldier. "Sir." he asks. Shotaro stops. "This is the castle, blind man. Perhaps you're lost?" the blind man tilts his head. "Lost? Hard to know where I am if I've never seen a map before." he says. "Though, I do have business at the castle, if that's what you mean." he reaches into the fold of his shirt, and withdraws a missive. "Here." he holds the letter out, into open air two feet to the soldier's left. "I had to have the messenger read it to me, but I am to understand that I'm expected by the lord." The soldier looked at the man with annoyance, an expression lost on Shotaro as he snatches the letter out of his hand. "That's a new one." the soldier scoffs. "Let me see that!" Shotaro stands, his head tilted, as the soldier reviews the missive. He seems patient as the man calls over another soldier, shows him the paper, they review the seal, and then one of them goes off to confirm. Minutes pass, and eventually the second man returns and whispers something into the first's ear. "You'll need to turn over any weapons. " The soldier tells him, tapping the shaft of Shotaro's spear with his own. The blind man nods, leaning on his cane as he unslings his pack and holds it out. "You're going to watch it for me? That's very kind of you." he says. "I'll want it back of course. That spear's been very good for fighting off wild animals." The soldier huffs, taking the heavy pack and dropping it unceremoniously on the ground behind him. "And your cane sir." he says. Shotaro frowns. "Well, how will I walk? I could stumble and fall. Perhaps someone from the castle could guide me?" The soldier, already annoyed beyond his limits, grunted. "Fine. Don't cause any trouble." he says. Shotaro smiles in the man's general direction. "I'll try not to." he says. With that, he starts tapping his way across and into the castle where he asks someone less hostile to guide him to where he's supposed to be having his audience.
It's going to be a challenge for NPCs and party members to push past that, but will be interesting if they can. I literally have no reason to judge you, since I have no ability to see your mug, despite how butt-ugly it might be! :P
"The cantina is a good idea." Jacob comments. "I'll want to go over the targeting computer once repairs are done. Might need to do some calibrations."
Approaching the group is a hobgoblin, which in and of themselves is a rarity considering that the hobgoblin race was almost completely wiped out fighting the Kaiju far earlier in the year. At his side and just behind him is a massive bugbear of extraordinary physical fitness and mass. On their persons are numerous pouches, loops, and tools indicative of being a siege gunner. The hobgoblin carrys a musket on his back and has numerous metal cartridges slotted in his equipment. They both reek of gunpowder, iron, and blood. "Would've been here sooner, if I hadn't been in the southeast district." he says, his accent clipped but unfamiliar. "Bogrun had to drop the cannon during the kerfluffle." the bugbear replies, rolling his eyes. "Anyways," the hobgoblin says, making no effort to shake any hands. "I'm Hobbe and this is Bogrun. I'll be your firing support. I do the shooting, and Bogrun hauls the cannon and keeps the little buggers off me while I work." he clarifies. "If we can get some of the other siege guns up and running I can direct those too." the bugbear booms. Hobbe shrugs. "He's got earplugs in still." Hobbe explains, pointing to his ears.
"... Like the one that Bioshock's wearing." Hashtag adds, after he looks. Yup. Thats an ascott. Also known as a neckerchief. And it looks ridiculous on a hero costume. "But that being said, we should move fast. C'mon Bran, let's go find some butts to kick and stuff. I"ll cheer you on." he says, moving to catch up with Bran. "Seriously... why does a crappy place like this have Artificer's tech in it? Must have been legit back in the day."
To those American players in our group, Happy Thanksgiving! :D If you're not in the US, have a great day anyways!
Cotton Metal must be the reason Steel Wool exists. :P I like each person's themes and inspirations. This is going to be interesting!
Toshi's costume would be an abrasion-resistant, graphite-gray colored bodysuit that is laced with a fiber-optic hex grid on it. The neon stripes of his body are exposed via flexible transparent material starting from the wrists to the palms of his hands and across the bottoms of his feet to his heel on his feet. The part where his neon lights are covered is lined on the inside with the intake ends for the fiber-optic threads, so that lighting up to use his powers causes the hex-grid to light up the same colors. This bodysuit is streamlined for speed, though he has a utility belt for holding restraints, gadgets, and communicator. He has a full cowl with goggles and breathing mask to keep from getting debris/bugs in his eyes and mouth while running. The soles of his feet (other than the clear strips) have high-grip treads.
Toshi Neon enters the scene!
Sounds good. I think that I'm going to make him a sort of glass cannon; hard to hit but can't handle getting hit very well. Neon lights aren't known for being sturdy. OH! I can do a neon 'lightsaber' power! Here's what I've got of Toshi "The Neon Kid". Didn't end up needing to be a glass cannon, and decided against the neon lightsaber power. Toshi - PL 8 Strength 0, Stamina 0, Agility 6, Dexterity 6, Fighting 4, Intellect 0, Awareness 0, Presence 0 Advantages
Skills
Powers
Offense
Complications
Languages
Defense
Power Points
"Gave my dog some of my blood, after reading a bit about our lineage." Ulf replies, chuckling to himself. "I've never seen Torg drag my couch across the apartment before." He shrugs. "I've not done something extremely supernatural, but I've learned a few tricks... and I have a gun that shoots rainbows." he sighs. "Lame, I know, but at least it still sounds like a g#&$$&n gun."
Ulf drove up to the Reinhard residence an hour in advance, rolling by the house once in his old black 2006 Ford Fusion once before parking down the street and rolling down the windows. Ulf wasn't worried about the neighborhood; he had researched the place earlier in the week and the crime rate was almost suspiciously low. Getting comfortable, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. That finished, he unfolded a pair of glasses and put them on. Normally, from the distance he had chosen, he would have needed binoculars to see the front door clearly, and a directional microphone to hear the vague sounds coming from the houses around him. Ever since he met the man on the bridge, however, he found that he didn't need such things anymore. His senses and reflexes were beyond what could be considered human. Even the night didn't seem as obscuring as it should have been. It was still dark, but everything he could see was crystal clear. The glasses didn't help; well, they did, but not for distance; with them he could see through almost any visual occlusions. Smoke, fog, even frosted glass windows, which he tested out thoroughly finishing up his cases to clear his plate for this meeting. Smoking, he shifted in his seat to flick the ash out his window and felt the bulk of the gun in its holster. The weapon wasn't much bigger than the old H&K he now left in a gun safe in his nightstand, but it was much lighter and the grip seemed custom-designed for his hands. He tried not to think about the kaleidoscope-like rainbow crystal that replaced the clip. It still weirded him out. Waiting and observing, he could see movement in the house. A man moved about busily past several windows. Only when he took out a bag of trash to the side yard dumpster that Ulf was able to confirm it was the man in the file. Heimdall's files were perfectly accurate. Seems busy. Ulf thinks to himself. hiding evidence? No, cleaning. He wants to make a good impression. Interesting. It was at this point he became aware he hadn't even changed out of his normal clothes he wore to work; a collared long sleeve shirt with a muted plaid pattern and khaki-colored slacks. His clothes were a little rumpled, but Ulf was starting to think that only he could tell. He had a trenchcoat, something he had picked up because it was almost expected of private eyes; fit the stereotype, get more business, get taken seriously by clients. Sighing, he resumed his observation, noting the food delivery guy and what was delivered. When was the last time I ate? Ulf asked himself. Ah... It was a pair of fish tacos... a week ago. Shouldn't I be hungry? Ah well, at least he ordered food. Ulf rolled up the windows and stepped out of the car at 6:58. Calmly walking, he discarded his finished cigarette before stepping onto the porch at 6:59. Taking a few seconds to adjust his trenchcoat, he held his hand up, waited exactly a few seconds, and then knocked on the door. 7:00.
Okay here we go...
Ulf Jonnson: Ulf was a cop, once. Los Angeles was a busy city with lots of crime. While he was an excellent investigator and a crack marksman on the force, he had several run-ins with the rich and powerful breaking the laws. They spent money, hired lawyers, and ruined Ulf's reputation as an officer of the law. With a bitter taste in his mouth, he accepted a 'forced retirement'. He moved to San Francisco and opened an investigation agency. While he went from solving crimes to ferreting out cheating husbands and finding missing daughters, he felt more satisfied searching at their request then he was ever working for the police. And then one day, years later, he received an envelope on his desk. There was only a single phrase printed on the card inside, embossed with a single Norse rune. Curious, he started looking into it and ended up getting dragged into a living puzzle that challenged everything he knew. Months of tracking down clues, finding contacts and dodging suspicious characters later, and he finally found the one who had sent him on this chase. His father, whom he had thought dead. Heimdall's machinations were a test to see if Ulf had the stuff to see things through to Ragnarok. He had proven himself worthy, and was given enough information to get started on his own path. Given a pistol, a pair of his father's old 'reading glasses', and enough files to get him started, (ST's discretion what's in the files) Ulf Jonnson found himself working a completely different set of cases: Titanspawn Investigations.
Okay so I need to fine-tune and finish up with little bits like the soak calculations and whatnot, but I think I'm pretty done here. At least did all the 15 bonus points and built to what I wanted. He's a private eye who's great at finding the truth, but he's frustrated at the legal system letting people he *knows* is guilty go free. Ulf Jonnson: Scion of Heimdall Name: Ulf Jonnson Player: Rungok Calling: Jaded Private Eye Nature: Cynic Pantheon: Aesir God: Heimdall ----------------------------- Attributes ----------------------------- Strength: 2; Dexterity 5/2; Stamina 3/1; Charisma 2; Manipulation 2; Appearance 3; Perception 5/2; Intelligence 3; Wits 3/1; ----------------------------- Abilities ----------------------------- Academics 2 Athletics 2 Awareness* 5 Command* 1 Control (Automobile) 1 Empathy 3 Fortitude 2 Integrity 3 Investigation* 5 Larceny 2 Marksmanship* 5 Melee* 2 Politics 1 Stealth 2 ----------------------------- Derived ----------------------------- Legend 3 (9/9) Willpower 6 Courage 2 Endurance 3 Expression 1 Loyalty 3 -----------------------------
(2)Heimdall's Spare Glasses
Guardian 1-2
The Scion can also use this Boon to check up on a subject at any time, but only one subject at a time. A Scion cannot brand herself with this Boon, but she can brand as many other subjects as she pleases. A subject can be branded by more than one Scion at the same time. Each brand is unique to the Scion who made it. Warning Line
Sun 1
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Trick Shooter: Not only do the Scion’s Epic Dexterity bonus successes add to (Dexterity + Marksmanship) dice rolls, he now doubles the bonus he receives from taking an Aim action (see p. 190) as well. What’s more, the player ignores the difficulty penalty for the character to either disarm an opponent with a ranged special attack or mark his opponent without causing damage. (See “Special Attacks” on p. 199.) A character must take an Aim action in order to be able to ignore such penalties, though. If a character fires from the hip or blazes away in a cordite-reeking, brass-raining, muzzle-strobing gunfight, only the regular bonus successes from his Epic Dexterity apply. Holy Fortitude: The character is the epitome of the holy ascetic. The periods for which she is able to go without food, water and sleep all double. The amount of time she is able to work at a strenuous task without stopping also doubles. Subliminal Warning: Whenever the Scion enters an area where an ambush is waiting, even if he has no reason to suspect he’s in danger, certain tiny clues set his subconscious on edge, preparing him for an attack. When the attacker finally springs the surprise assault, the Scion hears the tiniest rustle of fabric, sees the slightest flicker in his peripheral vision or feels the gentlest twitch of displaced air, and the clues he already noticed all add up. As a result, the Scion gains an extra number of dice equal to his Epic Perception on the standard (Wits + Awareness) roll to detect the ambush. Environmental Awareness: Prerequisite Knack: Subliminal Warning (Scion: Hero, p. 134) The demigod is so in tune with his surroundings, that he can detect even the most minute changes around him well before anyone else. He can feel the barometric pressure rise or drop (and describe it accurately), giving him an acute sense of what the weather is going to do in the next hour. He can feel the tiniest tectonic vibrations from deep within the earth, allowing him to accurately presage an earthquake. Changes in temperature are no mystery to him either. His awareness is so complete that should some unnatural factor change one of these elements, he’s the first to notice and can even track the disturbance back to its source. Also, if enemies are lying in ambush in the nearby area and are not concealed by supernatural means, it is impossible for their surprise attack to catch the Scion unaware. The Scion may join battle and react accordingly without his player having to roll to notice the hidden attack. If he reflexively spends a point of Legend, he may call out a warning for his cohorts to be ready and react accordingly as well. As an added benefit, the Scion is unfailingly aware of the passage of time. Without even thinking about it, he can accurately say how much time has passed from any reference point that he has personally experienced. Opening Salvo: The character’s tongue is sharp; with it she can wound a foe to the quick. When the character says something witty (or just catty) to a person and that remark is designed to trip him up or humiliate him, the victim loses one Willpower point. Inflicting this sting with such a venomous put-down (even if it’s actually just a tired Yo-Momma joke the player came up with on the spur of the moment) costs the user one Legend point. The only caveat to this Knack is that the player must actually come up with the gibe in question. It doesn’t have to be good; she just has to say something.
This is a very good question. My character cares very little for just accumulating wealth. He intends on using the money to build up his party to be able to succeed at closing the worldwound. After that, he intends on building a permanent demiplane where he can store relics, build his arcane study, a place to keep his dragon cohort, and develop magical crafting facilities for him to while away eternity in. He was also interested in ensuring Sarkoris returns to being a nation and is able to stand on its own. He can fund recovery efforts and pay to rebuild most of the places that were destroyed by the worldwound. Heck, he can summon and bind legions of outsiders/elementals to rebuild the country. Or build constructs that can do it.
Oh my god. I actually HAVE a set of those on this character! (he's been tattooing wondrous items onto party members. Like everyone has a ring of sustenance tattoo at the least.) I completely forgot about that function of the needles though!
The boulder, after deformation, was a spheroid of 15 feet in diameter. My emergency force sphere is 10 ft. Ah jeez I can't believe I messed that up! D: -------------------
The Grimoire idea is actually kinda neat, since I already use Secluded Grimoire for my Blessed Book. The problem with Fabricate is that you actually only get 1 cubic foot of material per level when dealing with minerals, and I thought gold fit in that category. Treasure Stitching? Looking that up. Oooh. Crud. It would work but the boulder's too big. Max size is a 10ft square, and this is a 15ft diameter sphere.
Vick had to make a choice, but was tormented by the realm he was in. Every time he started to decide one way or another, the in-between seemed to fracture more, each crack revealing the terrible consequences his decision would unleash. In his heart, he wanted to go through the gate to rescue his mother. Saving her would be easy. Shove Eli away from the train, and take her with him on a short 'port to the side. But that was considering his powers worked properly. That bastard Haxor really f#*@ed him over. He should never have let his past friendship with the kid soften his response. What use is there for a kid like Vick, who played games with pictures when people put their lives on the line? He knew what his mother would want. Her guilt over Redline and Overhaul's deaths was no secret. If she could atone by some grand action, then she would have. He knew what she would tell him right now, if she could. I love you, mom. he thought, turning to the aquarium gate. Eli, I hope you got the chops. He takes a deep breath and goes through. Whipporwhill, I'm going to save you!
House-aquarium-desert. House-aquarium-desert. house-aquarium-desert-street. house-aquarium-desert-street. house-aquarium-desert-street-warehouse. house-aquarium-desert-street-warehouse. house-aquarium-desert-street-warehouse. house-aquarium-desert-street-warehouse-moon... house-aquarium-desert-street-warehouse-moon. house-aquarium-desert street-warehouse-moon-battlefield... why is there a portal there? He got an idea. It wasnt his best idea, but if it didn't work, well he wouldn't be aany worse off than he currently was. house-aquarium-desert-street-warehouse-moon-Portal... He struggles to bring one iota of his power under his control as he whips down the final cycle before a new and potentially worse location was discovered. His nose bleeds profusely, perhaps from repeated exposures to the vacuum of space, but when he departs the moon he pushes himself. He arrives in front of the portal. "Needthiskaythanxbai!" He blurts, reaching into the portal just as his haywire powers start to teleport. Confflicting extradimensional translocations cause a rather stupendous display of brilliant colors and sounds and strangely an overwhelming taste of fudge. On the first beat, when he gets to the inbetween, he doesn't come out to a new location. He doesn't go anywhere. Collapsing to what he assumed to be the ground, he noticed the portal's strange energies still rippling off him. "That's... bad." he mutters. His mom would scold him so- HIS MOM! Lurching to his feet, he tries to visualize his mother's presence. He makes the mental commitment to travel... and nothing happens. Not good! -Posted with Wayfinder
She lets the comm click off with a smirk.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Obozaya will sit back in the captains chair and sigh. "Two weeks? I've had worse." she grunts. "I don't play cards." she comments, lifting up her tablet and loading her game in Tactics Unchained. Little arcade sounds pip out through the cheap speakers as she taps the screen and grins.
Hashtag's no good, rotten, terrible, completely horrid day: The day after his last visit with Wingblade where he helped out a new unknown hero return home after a bad injury, he couldn't help but think that he's screwing things up. It started when he woke up and found that he had been so tired from the night before that he only imagined that he had set the alarm (or a more frightening event: he had set the alarm for an illusionary clock he had accidentally created in his sleep-deprived state). So he got woken up to his adoptive father splashing him with water, his usual method of waking him up. Groaning, Vick got cleaned up and dressed. Which was when he discovered that he had fallen asleep with his phone on the bed and now it was soaked in water. He sighed, wondering if he could convince Matrix to give him a replacement for free. As it was, it wasn't like he could afford a new one; hero business didn't really pay, and his 'rents had confiscated his allowance for like, the rest of his life after the state fair fiasco. Leaving his phone at home (in a baggie of rice), Vick 'ported to school. Which was then when he realized he left his school bag at home, so he popped back, but he couldn't find it. Returning to school, he was late for his first class, which meant another infraction, which meant that it would be on his record, and his 'rents would be inevitably scolding him about it soon. The concept of a teleporter ever being late seemed inconceivable to his foster father. In a bad mood by this point, he was a little too snarky with his homeroom teacher, and by some accident, he got called to help out with the special classes after school. Which meant he was doing cleanup duty!
He then had to mop up the practice mats, which reminded him of how easily he got his ass kicked. The Sentinel, the mirror knight... there was no denying it. When it came to a straight fight, the other dude would wipe the floor with him. He tried not to fight fair, like, ever, but he was severely lacking. He considered asking Ghost Dragon to give him lessons... but he felt guilty every time he thought of it. He wanted to ask Wingblade, but the weird relationship they seemed to have made warning bells go off in his head that doing that might lead to further, relationship damaging complications. Also, if he couldn't even win a spar against one of these chuckleheads in the special class, he was way, WAY underqualified to even be a punching bag for Wingblade. Finished with his cleaning duties, he popped out of the gym before any of the powerhouses could try to rope him into being said punching bag. He appeared on the roof of Halcyon north general hospital, in the space beneath the helipad where it was legally required to be clear of objects. It wasn't legally required for it to be necessarily clear of spills. He arrived, took one step, and took a colossal slip and fall, knocking the wind out of him. He laid there, trying to breathe, and he could feel water soaking into his pants and shirt. "Jeez. Worst. Day. Ever." he muttered. And, like all times when someone like him tempts fate, fate decides to call his bluff. At that moment, he heard the whomp-whomp-whomp of a helicopter incoming, alongside the shrill shrieking of alarms going off. Standing, Vick saw the emergency evac helicopter that was approaching the hospital belching smoke and starting to spin. Inside, he could see a blackish something flailing around inside. Great. he thinks, squinting at the helicopter before he takes the risky 'port into the vehicles interior. Inside the helicopter, he was subjected to horrid squealing, spinning, and a woman tied down onto a stretcher with some kind of black inky, oily, writhing mass of tendrils erupting from her mouth. Even as a few of them snagged his arms and legs, Hashtag could tell that the pilot and EMT were strugling to slip the otherworldly substance from around their necks. "What the everloving f!*!!?!?" he shouts.
Needless to say, his head hurt from using his teleportation so much. So, he walked home. From the bay. Well, he took one of the trains. He never did figure out where his backpack was. The sound of someone clearing his throat caught his attention. Looking up, he saw his 'rents standing side by side, with that 'Here's patented lecture #13' look on their faces. With an exagerrated motion, he looked down at himself, spread his arms, and let them flop against his sides with a wet splat. "What?" he complained, too tired to play nice. "I just fought a thing in a helicopter and saved three people's lives, okay?" "We saw the news." His adoptive father growled. "That's not it. Why were you late for school?" he demanded. "If you can be saving people out of moving vehicles you should be able to make it to class on time." "I couldn't find my backpack." he explained lamely. In response, his adoptive father pointed to the front door. Where his backpack hung on the hook just beneath the peephole. He turned back to his 'rents and scratched the back of his head. "Uhh... oops?" he says sheepishly. No, I think this really is the worst day ever." he thinks. "Oh, and take your phone out of the rice. That's disgusting." "Fine." Vick retrieved his cell and to his amazement, it powered on. Vick took the stairs and contemplated taking a shower before he tried to see if it wasn't too late to hang with Eli. hey man, i gotta bail. something came up. sorry. Figures.
I've got mine.
She flashes Julzakama a self-satisfied grin. She was awesome, why wouldn't he like her? To the rest of the group, she says: "Hundred credits. Get the info."
I'd love to check in with Obozaya. I'm interested in getting started in SFS stuff, so I'm trying to sign up for everything I can find.
Calvin will note the buildings that are burned out and the emptiness when he gets a chance to look through the spyglass. "I don't see any bodies. Or carrion birds. They'd be all over the place if the colonists were killed." He says. He passes the spyglass on. "Is there somewhere safe we can anchor the ship. At least for long enough we can check out Talamdor's Bounty?" he asks. He rolls his head, loosening his neck muscles and flexing his gills. "I volunteer to be part of the away party."
"For a peppy girl like you, sure." Calvin pours her a cup from a different jug. "Best Applejack in Andoran. Hope you find me some decent fruit trees so i can make some new stock once this runs out!" -Posted with Wayfinder
Calvin grins. "Well if you're looking for something a bit better for you, I have some of my private stash left. Good quality Applejack." He tosses back some grog with a smile. -Posted with Wayfinder
Calvin turns to watch the rest of the crew scrambling and shrugs. "The weather's great for an arrival. I wonder how well along the first colonists are." he muses. "I hope no one's set up a tavern yet!" With a wry smile, he will walk over to the man caring for his crossbow and sit down next to him after slinging his pack off his back. "Tobar." he says, acknowledging him. He throws his head back onto the rail. "Still waxing your bow? Thought you did that yesterday." He will rummage through his pack and pull out a cup. "Grog?" he offers, pouring from one of his jugs. He's probably had the 'scurvy' conversation with about everyone so he doesn't extol the virtues of having a drink. "Aint watered down."
Hashtag shakes his head. "No. You go. Its my fault and she'll be able to tell. I'll be fine. I promise." he nudges her, giving her a smile for a bit before sending her right back to the tower with a Crack!. He did it again. Son of a- Meanwhile...:
Back at the park: Hashtag sighs, looking around as he's sure Shayera was gone. He steps off the curb as he rises, walking into the crowd of people and police. For some reason, no one seems to notice him until he gets up to whipporwhil. "I thought it was pretty good." he mutters, looking at the superhero. He had analyzed his pictures of her and based some of it off the personal interactions. It wasnt perfect at all, but she was so distracted that she didnt remember her mentor was dealing with an actual disaster and couldnt make it back this fast. "I let it get out of hand." he grumbles, running his hands through his hair. With a grimace, he snaps his fingers. Today is Thursday. He snapped to dispel the illusion, only to see her standing on the other side. Whipporwhil tilts her head. S$%~! I guess she flies faster than i thought! Moving forward, she gives him the look. "I can't overlook this. Breaking and entering. Petty theft. Vandalism." Vick spreads his hands. "I used their fryers and turned on their rides, but I never did anything permanent to the park." "You disturbed the peace, set off proximity alarms, and then tricked wingblade into committing these crimes." Hashtag will suddenly stand straight, putting a foot forward. "No!" he shouts. "I did this all myself! She knew nothing!" he steeled himself for retaliation. "If you gotta put it that way, I kidnapped her." "A felony? You would do time for that. Lose any chance of being a hero." came the reply. Vick sighs, shrugging. "Guess I get to spend more time with the family." he replies, his bravado not doing a good job hiding the tremble in his knees. She stares at him for a few seconds. "The stick won't work with you, it seems." she observes. "But you still want to do good." "I was just trying to have some harmless fun. Share it with Shayera." he replied. "I just feel bad that she's alone up there... That and it's not like I could afford to actually pay for all this..." he answers. "I will let you taking her out here slide. As someone who appreciates you fighting for the Defenders back then." He lets out a breath. "-But," she says. "You will be paying off what you stole here." Hashtag stares at her, perplexed. "... How?" he asks. -Posted with Wayfinder
Jonjon moves up to Sabe and gestures to a bike. "We can ride together, yes?" he asks.
"Are you stuck here? Need something?" Kenji asks, cautiously taking a step forward, his hands up in a gesture of being unarmed (heh).
Vick will consider the area around them as he runs over to the nearest fire hydrant. Grinning, he has an idea. Out of his jacket pocket comes a sharpie, and he scribbles on the hose-cap that points right at the warehouse before turning and checking his fire. -Posted with Wayfinder
...OH FOR FU-
Maki has been watching the more assertive work, and is finding herself daunted by the situation, but starts psyching herself up to fight if it happens. Once in the locker room, though, an opportunity comes to mind. "I need to get into my locker." she says. "I have some equipment for kendo there."
Well, you're pretty close! :) The Future Warden is in fact a precognitive warrior, able to gain the ability to make re-rolls in exchange for martial flexibility. They also gain improved ability to fight with improvised weapons, since they generally aware of how they'll work before they even pick them up. The Crystal Lasher is a Magus that can enhance whips with their arcane power, giving them lethal slashing crystals along their length, even going so far as to cause their enhancement to discharge into an even deadlier burst of shards. This type of magus works best with using maneuvers and delivering their deadly spells at the increased reach of the whip. The Servant of War is an archetype that lets characters work better with their teammates, as well as count non-fighter levels as fighter for their bonus feats. Teamwork feats are enhanced when taken by a Servant of War. The Harmonic Savant is a musical performing bard capable of setting up harmonies of sound that resonate between their allies, allowing others to 'carry the tune' for short periods or even set up vibrations that wear down their enemies. They can have others count as the origin of their bardic performance, and can over time set up multiple 'sources' of performances. Ability to befriend others depends on the player ;) I hope this helps!
Don't be, I'm pretty sure this was exactly the intention with this product. To be fair, my tagline on the first page is: "We... are the living gems!" :D Sure, there are four class archetypes for The Crystal Planet.
I'm going to try to get everything added to the D20pfsrd, but that might take a while. :) Is there something in particular you'd like to know more detail about?
Tika will blink, straightening as she tries to remember what hit her.
Still, he was not expecting her reaction. Too human, at least, for a preprogrammed assassin. He quickly throws an illusion over himself to mask his movements as he watches her go; everyone else just sees him glowering and slouched in his chair. There you go, you big a*$&%&@. his thoughts harangue him. She's not just some machine after all. Feel any better? No?
And then Kenneth tore into him too. Though his initial impulse was to push away, Vick's not completely retarded. He knows that he should do *something*, but he's not about to just admit that to everyone. The Vick everyone sees leans back in the chair, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. "I said Practically, god." his image replies while the real one sits on the floor at the foot of his chair, unseen, and thinks. "And I'm still right about everything else. Yeah, I was scared. Yeah, I'm pissed. Yeah, maybe I could have said it nicer, but when has she done that to me? Never." He decided. Gotta deal with this because otherwise, everyone will faff around trying to patch things together from the outside when the problem is between me and Wingblade. He takes a breath, concentrates, and puts together his best illusion.
Hashtag slips out the room when Kenneth leaves. He doesn't teleport; his mother'd notice that instantly. He shadows Kenneth closely, knowing how his friend walks to keep his footsteps in line. As far as anyone can tell, he's still in the chair, and will remain so for a little while. That illusion was simple, static, and not what he had been working on. This one blended him with the environment, it masked his heat emissions, hid his breath, and sounds of his movement. He separated from Kenneth and followed after Deputy Atom's rather obvious trail of ozone and disrupted electronics. He comes into sight while Wingblade has her back to him and he nods, taking a deep breath. Hey, no worries, they can reattach hands, right? he thinks, coming forward. Back in the briefing room, his dupe says suddenly. "Mom knows where to find me." he says, and the illusion dissolves. To Atoms and Wingblade, Hashtag appears, one hand barely touching one of Wingblade's organic metal feathers, his other hand grabbing his arm and he looks over to Deputy Atoms. "Gonna borrow her B-R-B." he mutters quickly, and by then it's too late to stop them.
To someone untrained, they wouldn't notice the shift since they didn't feel the transition. But Wingblade was not untrained. Despite her face being shielded by her arm, she knew immediately she had been moved even if her other senses hadn't picked up him speaking and even making contact with her wing. Instead of the home of the Defenders, they're standing in the empty central dome of a now dismantled observatory. Wingblade's studies had taught her that this place had once been the lair of a villain on the edge of Halcyon city that used his devices to control the weather. The Defenders had ruined his plots, and Lord Typhoon now enjoys a cell three down from Blink. His equipment was long since removed. The lack of telescope in the center leaves a small mess of girded catwalks around and empty space. It's silent and lonely here. Throughout the walls of the dome, even up high, a spraypaint mural covers every available inch of open space. None of it gang-signs; they all bear Hashtag's signature art style. A sleeping bag, wind up radio, and a backpack half-open is spilling dingy clothes out the opening. Several pizza boxes are discarded out of the way, and he's managed to make a six-foot structure out of 12 pack boxes. Strangely, there's a plastic lawn chair with optimal view of the night sky, and a bag next to it full of yarn, cotton stuffing, and knitting needles. Hashtag's sitting on one of the railings of the outermost circular platform, one leg on the rail and the other trailing off. He's looking straight at her, and his expression is not one of anger or any form of malice. Instead, he looks almost as emotionally wrecked as she does. "I can send you back if you want." he starts. "But I f*#!ed up, and I need you to hear me out." He lights up a cigarette and takes a drag, staring up at the night sky through the open panel in the dome. "No one's ever found me here, not for years." he admits. "It's been the only place I can be me, and no one care." He hops off the rail, landing a few feet down on another catwalk. He approaches her, in a roundabout fashion. He talks unless she leaves. "I was an a%~@$+#." he confesses, taking another drag and then flicking the thing away. "You aren't just a machine made for killing. You're just in over your head, and I haven't been making it better. Humans, humans get hurt by words. Big, dumb words." He doesn't move like he's going to stop her from attacking him. "I am sorry. Everything went t*!# up today, and I know I didn't make things better. I can't. I just...can't be like... everyone else!" He ends up sinking to the ground directly in front of her, sitting up in a sprawl and not looking directly at her as he opens up. "Look... you guys-the rest of you- are amazing, okay? Strong, tough, capable, and you know what to do." he shrugs. "I'm not. I'm not ANY of those things. I'm just this punk kid who doesn't even pay attention to school cause I think I'm better than it and all I have going for me are some stupid powers that just help me deceive people and run away." A tear leaks out the corner of his eye, unnoticed by him. "And it's not like I can *be* any better than that. I'm not. My first impulse is to talk smack, do something witty, and leave if things don't go my way. They usually don't. I have no business being here with you guys anyways." He looks up at her, a pained smile on his face. "We're kinda the opposites in every way, you know?" he says. "You're good looking, skilled, educated, powerful, and what's most is that everyone expects you to be a good guy. Girl. Whatevs." He looks up at the murals on the wall, of them can be seen paintings of the different heroes of their team having cool moments of triumph. Maybe there weren't as many thugs that one time, or the car wasn't THAT big, but everyone else has a spot on the mural but him.
"You don't have to forgive me. I was an a!&%~*#. I have been acting like everyone expects me to be, and look where it got us?" He looks more insecure now. "But... what else *could* I be? How would you want me to be?"
Delinquent Team Move: When you share a vulnerability or weakness with someone, give them Influence over you, and ask them who they’d like you to be. Mark potential if you show them that person. If they’re a teammate, add a Team to the pool no matter what. |
