Dr Archeville
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Horrorshow "Treat them as we would like to be treated," he replied, nodding and shifting through the papers with his left hand. His right hand was doing its own shifting, sprouting a few extra fingers and growing stiff dark hairs. Soon it looked very much like a tarantula, staring at the spider atop Eira's head. "Seems only fair, and-" he'd continued, only now appearing to notice what had happened to his hand. He looked to it, then to Eira, and realization dawned upon him. "Ah, I'd meant to ask you about that," he nodded to Eira's companion, willing his own spider-hand back into a more proper shape, "is that a... an extension of you, or a distinct entity?" "Ooh, now that could be an interesting angle to explore," he murmured, jotting down some notes. Still writing, but speaking a bit more clearly, he responded, "no, not eaten yet. I probably should, though, I'm sure they won't have many snacks in Rurland. Well, I'm sure I could work out some way to digest metals and silicon, but those generally don't, uh... " he trailed off, realizing how off-putting that might be to his companion. "Sorry."
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Horrorshow The fifth gorilla-goon snorted derisively. "What, it takes four of ya to take care of that little thing?," he jerked his head towards the woman in the bear mask, then towards the back of the warehouse. "Yeah, new guy must've gotten a bad batch of Max or somethin'. Someone saw 'im snort somethin', then BOOM," he slapped the goon's chest with the back of his hand, "shadowy tentacles everywhere. Boss said get two of ya, so c'mon." He turned and began heading towards where he thought the fighters would be stabled while waiting for their match, unaware that he was being watched. Stay focused, he reminded himself, you're not here to fight. Just get some of these gorillas away from that lady, improve her odds. You can lose them once you get them far enough away, then go back to tracking Uncle Sasha, make sure he's not getting into too much trouble.
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Bluff check = natural 20, so 40! Notice check = 18, so he just misses!
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Horrorshow "Of course, of course," the interviewer replied, smiling and nodding at their words. "I'll try to leave things open-ended, so you can share as much as your comfortable with. I'm sure the audience would prefer to hear directly from the new hero," she nodded, "rather than some reporter telling them about the new hero. Ah, heroine." At Daisy's threat-promise, Olivia showed little reaction (of course her assistant is intense), keeping up her smile, and even patting the assistant's hand. "I certainly respect your drive, Ms. Gibbons," she locked eyes with the assistant, wondering where he'd seen that look before, "and I would like to assure you that I have no intention of causing your boss any harm. Freedom's citizens love their heroes, and I'm honored to introduce them to one of their newest." She turned to the approaching Patriot and held up her microphone, "ready when you are!"
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Horrorshow "I'd like to think there'd be some comeuppance for killing an American citizen," Davyd replied, then quickly held up a hand, "though, yes, I do get your point. But this isn't a stealth mission, we're all open and friendly, yes?" He still wasn't entirely sure on that -- one the openness and friendliness of Rurland -- though he wondered how much of that was anti-Synthetic prejudice and how much was remembering all the things Talos and his associates had done, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. But that is what we're here for, yeah? To see if the leopard really can change his spots? "We're here to give the world a closer look at an all-Synthetic government, so we should encourage them to be candid by being sincere with them. So, yes," he nodded, "please reach out to whomever you can, and remind them of our interest." He'd been told by his supervisor at DNN that they had already reached out to Rurland, asking for an interview, but never got an affirmative response. They also never got a negative response... or any response, though they could tell the message had been received.
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Horrorshow "More the latter," the interviewer replied with a smile, "but, please, do not hold back on my account! With, ah, with that being said," she withdrew her hand from Ashley and pulled out a small notepad from one of her coat's pockets and flipped it open with a thumb, "I want to make sure I'm doing this right, covering everything that should be covered. So," she tucked the microphone under one arm, used her other hand to fish a pen from another coat pocket, and began making a few marks on the pad, "is there anything in particular you want to make sure we cover? Or, ah, anything that is off-limits for this interview?" She looked up at Ashley, all smile and warmth. And now the delicate art of balancing what the interviewee wants to tell with what the interviewer -- and audience -- wants to know.
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Horrorshow The hotel was a perfectly average establishment, a solid 3-star lodging. Not too fancy, not too cheap; clean and with reliable wifi, but otherwise basic amenities. Its main drawback was that it was a bit further form the city's center than most tourists would prefer.... but they were not tourists, and they would not be staying here long. Davyd opened the door to his room, greeting Eira in a blue-and-gold Claremont gym outfit. "Come in, come in!," he said with a wave, then hopped onto the bed and sat cross-legged, and spread out a folder and some papers before him -- his assignment from DNN, to get into Rurland and learn as much as possible, to educate (and possibly reassure) the curious public. "I know you've received digital copies of all these, since your security's better than on anything I've got. So, do you have any suggestions on how we should approach them? And who to speak with once we're inside? Does Rurland have a... tourist center?"
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Horrorshow "Wish we could've seen it in its prime," Davyd replied from behind Pan, stepping down off the bus after the Forever Boy. He'd gone a bit native, appearing to wear a wool tam and kilt in the green, black, and blue tartan created for New York City, with a blue short-sleeved shirt, beige wool knee socks, and sturdy hiking boots. "I hear there are a lot of castles like this, all over the country, that people can buy up for cheap -- well, relatively cheap -- as long as they're willing to do upkeep and renovations. Oh!," he suddenly snapped his fingers and withdrew his smartphone from... somewhere. "I should ask babusya if she knows of nay good castles to check out in Ukraine, I'm sure there are tons!"
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Horrorshow Davyd leaned against a shopfront window and watched Angelic for a bit. I wonder if that's how she'd be if she'd never... He shook his head to clear the thought away -- no use pondering on what-ifs. At his phone's instruction he looked down and soon spotted Eira's little spider-buddy, and his face lit up. "Ah, hello little one! You are-," he glanced at his phone, "ah, no, you talk this way, right." HAVE HOTEL ROOM, he texted back, ON DNN ACCOUNT. He had been given a card linked to a DNN expense account, though was told it did not have much on it, since the network was still so new. Fortunately, neither he nor Eira needed much. He texted her the address and reservation number. READY WHENEVER YOU ARE.
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Horrorshow "Olivia," the interviewer replied to Daisy, "Olivia Dobrhora. Oh! You have good grip," she said approvingly, "but your hand is like Russian autumn! You should go inside, get warmed up, yes?" Daisy likely noticed something unusual -- while Olivia's heartbeat was a strong and steady as any she'd encountered, her breath, like her own, did not fog in the chilly winter air. The interviewer was still looking to Daisy as she entered the trailer, and so did not lay eyes on her subject until she felt the firm handshake. As she turned to face the Patriot, her eyes widened and smile dropped for half a moment... OH CRAP OH CRAP OH CRAP WHAT NO NO KEEP IT TOGETHER THIS MUST BE PART OF SOME TEST ... but she quickly snapped back to her professional face. "No, no introduction needed," the interviewer laughed, excitedly returning the handshake, "and after tonight, everyone will know the new Patriot, yes? So," she looked over to the DNN camera, "you prefer to do this sitting, or standing?"
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Horrorshow "Wait, what?!," Davyd blurted out in response to the bombshell the producer had just laid on his feet. "I thought I was here just to tag along, to see how it's done, before I dive in. My first interview was to be next month!" Morgana Brink, a heavyset Danish woman chomping on a cigar, shrugged. "What can I say, kid, things change, and you'd best be willing to go with the flow. You can do that, yeah?" "Can I," he sputtered, indignation smothering his trepidation. He yanked the microphone off the table and stormed off towards the makeshift stage, muttering to himself. "Can I go with the... I'll show them how I can..." His form shifted with each step, hair extending to shoulder length and lightening to a strawberry blonde, skin going a bit darker, features softening. Of course, if I screw this up, I can at least do so while wearing another face, so it won't come back to haunt me later in my career. Daisy saw a determined woman striding towards her, microphone in hand. Mid- to late-twenties, wearing a long grey wool coat over a simple blue pantsuit. "Is she ready?," the woman asked, in a vague Eastern European accent.
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Horrorshow Moments after Angelic had begun interacting with the Kyivans, a brown and grey hawk -- a Western Osprey, it seemed, to those who knew such things -- began a spiral descent to her location. This was, of course, no ordinary hawk, but her shapeshifting friend Davyd. His family was originally from Ukraine, evacuating during the Chernobyl disaster; his parents, uncle, and maternal grandmother had moved to America (and eventually to Freedom), while his other grandparents had remained in their homeland. He had come to Ukraine a few times to visit with his paternal grandparents, at their cozy little home just outside Kharkiv, and even visited Korosten once, to see his maternal grandfather. But he'd never actually seen much of Kyiv -- his family usually flew in directly to Kharkiv, and traveled by train from city to city. This was not another family trip, though: he was here on business. Danger News Network, a newly-formed branch of Danger Media, had sent him on a very special assignment, seeing his familiarity with the area as a boon. They'd also suggested Angelic accompany him, though left it to him to ask her. She'd agreed, and soon they were en route. Maybe I'll stay like this for a bit, he thought to himself, let Eira bask in some attention. Ah, I could duck into that alley and change there, out of sight. A Western Osprey darted into a nearby alley, and a few moments later, a young man, dressed like a Typical Ukrainian Youth, stepped out and approached the gathering crowd.
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Horrorshow Davyd nodded at Ace's continued recommendation of Mr. Humberto, then kinda lost focus when he started mentioning the techie stuff. "Hey, you'd know better than me on that, yeah? Ah, no, no, don't have a 'tailor'," he looked down at his outfit, which shifted to a familiar blue-and-gold gym outfit, "this is one of the uniforms I got from Claremont, which they let me keep on account of needing at least one outfit that could stay with me." He grinned, a bit mischievously, and the outfit shifted back to the brown-and-gray outfit he'd worn on arrival. An idea suddenly hit, and now it was his turn to name-drop. "Oh, if your tech folks need some help, I bet Miss Grue and Angelic would have some ideas!" Andromeda's words made him do a double-take, and he kept a close eye on her as she did... whatever it was she did to the GoPro. "Thanks... and, uh, yeah," he kept his eyes on her, "I know some folks, and they know some folks. Might get Angelic to bring in some of those brains from ArcheTech. Ah, sorry, but, where'd you say you were from?" He turned to face Veronica, though an eyestalk slithered up from under the back of his shirt to keep a watch on Andromeda. "Yeah, I think my future's finally starting to, ah, take shape." He tried not to chuckle too much at his pun, with some success. "I'll go see Saul first thin in the morning, you'll let me know of any missions I could help with, and Ace'll get back to me on stuff I can do with Danger Media and that news network."
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Horrorshow I'm getting the feeling they see her as an intruder, Davyd thought, which would make for a good distraction I could use, if I were up to something. But I'm just here to keep an eye on Uncle Sasha. And they look like they're not the sort to be gentle with intruders, so maybe... With the crowd's focus on the fight (or on their own business), it was not too difficult* to shift forms in a way that went unnoticed. Now Davyd looked like one of the gorilla goons, and he reached out to lay a hand on the shoulder of the one in front of him. "Hey," he grunted, "Boss wants us backstage. One'a the fighter's is tweakin'." * if I need to spend an HP to temporarily get the Hide in Plain Sight feat to pull this off, I'll do so.
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Can I try a Sense motive roll for Davyd, to see if he can get a better gauge on what the gorilla-goon's intentions are? If so. that's a... 1d20+15: 27 [1d20=12].
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Horrorshow Davyd looked down sheepishly at Daphne's initial reply (though, to his credit, did not actually begin turning into a sheep). For all that she had taught him over the past two and a half years, all that she had shown and shared with him, he often forgot that she'd had to piece together a lot on her own. Maybe that was why they got along so well: she was just as much a child of Earth as he was, just coming at it from the other way. Her second comment hit him like a bolt, making him look up and his eyes go wide. "Oh, wow! You really think the League would help me like- oh! She's already got it?!" He threw his arms around her, "thank you so much!"
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Artificer Heroditus held a hand up to his eyes as he emerged, wanting to shield them from the glaring, hateful sun... and then immediately doubled over in a coughing fit. "Pfaugh! What is that?!" Smog, it seemed, was particularly bad for Atlantean lungs. He fumbled for the paper mask Leon had made and held it to his face. "That's not another sandstorm, is it? I'm not... wait- no..." He spun around, taking in their surroundings, "where are we? I know we walked a long time, but we should not have been able to reach any of the nearest towns. And yet," he slowly spun around again, "this - no - this almost looks like Freedom City... but more decayed. Did we travel to the future?"
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Artificer Heroditus looked to Phalanx, standing up a bit straighter and puffing out his chest a bit. "Ah, responsibility! Yes, that is something with which I am very familiar, sir! With which all Atlanteans are familiar," he saluted the elder hero again, fist to heart and then temple. "The Stylianos clan has served the city-states of Atlantis for generations, and I am honored to continue that tradition." The mentorship plan began to reveal itself to the young Atlantean, or so he thought. "I know of the types of training the military receives, beyond athletics and combat. Mental preparation, to combat the.... baser instincts. To counter fear and doubt, so that which must be done can be done." He nodded, self-assuredness growing, "and to properly assess the environment in a timely manner."
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Horrorshow "Ooh," Davyd breathed, marveling at the sleek yet simple elegance of the ecocapsule. He took a step outside and walked slowly around the pod, running a hand over the fiberglass exterior, and craning his neck up to see the built-in wind turbine. He could just make out the edges of the solar cell array on the roof, and made a note to check those out later. Then he went back inside. He repeated the process, giving the interior a slow visual and tactile examination. It was predominantly white in color, with blond wood accents. He tested the folding bed and fold-out table, the sink in the kitchenette and the shower in the restroom, and peered into the waterless separating toilet. Glad I won't be needing that, he thought to himself. He walked back to the center of the pod and stretched a bit. "Alright, now to give this place a really close look." He began to shrink down, legs fusing and arms retracting as he did. His hair melded into his skin, which sprouted sand-colored scales, and his skull warped into a more triangular shape. Soon he was an exact copy of a tiny Sahara sand viper, perfect for slithering in and out of air ducts and water pipes... which is exactly what he did.
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Artificer 5 posts = 1pp The Kids are Alright (2) Party Crashing (2) Survival Class: Prussian Blue (1) Horrorshow 29 posts = 3pp Blue Monday (11) Calling on the Aunties (1) Dakar Rally (1) Eurotrip: The Rhythm of the Rails (1) Friend Like Me (1) Patriot Games (9) Tyger Tyger, Burning Bright (5) Protectron 0 posts = 0pp, +1 [Mod] = +1pp ??? --Titanium Characters-- Dead Head 0 posts, to ??? Bedlam in Bedlam: Let Him In (0) Doktor Archeville 0 posts, to ??? ??? --Other-- Mod point, to Protectron
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In order to make sure the Refs accurately count all your IC posts and award you the due amount of power points, please post with a list of all the threads in which your player character, NPC or sidekick posted IC this month (including the News forum). Also list any threads which you are GMing. GM posts count as double and can be assigned to whichever of your characters needs a 'push'. This topic will automatically close on the seventh day of the following month (i.e., December 7th, 2021 at Midnight EST). When you make your list, post a link to your first post for the month for each IC thread so we can jump right to it. When you start a thread, make sure IC is the first tag and topic prefix of the In Character thread, and OOC is in the first tag and topic prefix of the Out Of Character thread. It's not required, but additional tags including the major players and locations are viewed as a courtesy. Please list your threads in alphabetical order. Please clearly note any threads in which you are both player and GM/running an NPC. In threads where you are both player and GM/an NPC, please be sure to mark each post so we can tell who it should be allocated to. Please list your threads in a timely manner. Extending the deadline one week into the following month is already a grace period. If you've done any "extracurriculars" -- artwork, HellQ, 20 Questions, NPC, vignettes, guidebook pages, etc. -- please be sure to list them along with your active threads. For more information on ways to earn power points, see Character Advancement and Awards in the House Rules section of the Guide. Post counts should be formatted similar to the following: To make clear how many posts from rollover and GM posts are assigned to each character. Failure to comply with these guidelines may result in visited by three spirits your post counts being postponed or skipped completely. If you missed the deadline, see this thread.
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Horrorshow "Oh, uh," he replied to Daphne, sounding a bit dejected, "I was sorta hoping Baby might already have some plans for a Grue camera... thingie. Something they could carry and use, no matter what their form, for reconnaissance missions. I mean, it's okay if she doesn't," he quickly added, not wanting to sound ungrateful, "Ace said he could put a word in with some of Danger International's tech folks. And once I get it, I could let Baby scan it so she could make copies... maybe even a copy for you, yeah?," he added with a smile. "I'd thought about a drone," he turned to Lynn, "but I think that might be too much trouble. That'd be two things to keep track of, the drone and the controller." He shook his head, "I was thinking one device, that could grow and shrink with me, that could attach itself to me, or maybe even ride inside me. Something with simple controls, that I could manipulate no matter what," he held one hand up and wiggled his fingers, which morphed into five tentacles, then braided and combined into one larger tentacle, flattened to a seal's flipper, then shifted to an eagle's talons before reverting to a normal human hand, "with auto-focusing, lots of automated stuff, so I could focus on who I'm interviewing, or on my surroundings. Not sure if I'd want it to be able to broadcast, like back to a base camp, or just record on an internal memory -- a broadcast could be blocked, and might spook some new critter that can perceive radio waves."
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Horrorshow Goon!Davyd moved a few steps to keep an eye on Sasha, and his shoulders sank a bit when he saw the considerable amount of cash he handed to one of the fox-masked bookies. Oh, Uncle, where did you even get that much? Mom would be so- waitasec... He noticed that what the bookie was handing Sasha wasn't a betting slip, but something much bigger. He took a few steps forward, and saw what he thought was a thick envelope. What is that? Receipts? Contracts for new fighters? Wait, do they even do contracts in a place like- His train of thought was interrupted by one of the gorilla-masked apes brushing past him, making a beeline for a woman in dark maroon dress and a half bear mask. Then he noticed the three other apes slowly but steadily making their way towards her. Four on one seems so unfair, he looked back to his uncle, then to the woman in maroon, but this might be some internal thing that I'd best stay out of. He looked again to his uncle, then back to the woman and the quickly-approaching apes, eh, I can track Uncle Sasha by his cologne later, he thought as he began stalking behind the ape that had bumped into him.
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Horrorshow gets a... 22 for his Notice check!
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Horrorshow Aleksandr "Sasha" Palahniuk had been a part of Freedom City's Mafiya for many years, though he was still at a low rank, largely due to his lack of ambition and skill. His older brother, Vyacheslav, a musician living in an apartment in Riverside, was completely ignorant of his illegal activities, though Vyacheslav's wife, an auto mechanic named Kateryna, had some suspicions, yet seemed content to let things lie. But her mother, Oksana... she acted like she didn't know, but a few cryptic comments she'd made to him over the years -- comments that had occasionally helped him on some job -- made him suspect that she knew more than she was letting on. But such suspicions were far form his mind at the moment. For now he stood, in his sunglasses and brown track suit, among other rough-and-tumble types of Southside, cheering at the Tiger's Den. He had no idea that, several rows behind him, his nephew was keeping a close watch. The previous night, Davyd's grandmother had pulled him aside after supper and told him that his uncle Sasha had been acting squirrelier than usual, and she wanted her shapeshifitng grandson to keep an eye on him, but not to let him know he was doing so. Davyd eagerly agreed, always happy to help his babusya, proud to be doing something that might keep a member of his family safe, and curious to see what his uncle could be getting up to. He had done a fine job tailing his uncle, in the form of a rat, or a pigeon, or passerby. Once he saw his uncle duck into an incongruously active warehouse, he shifted into a more apt form, a hulking goon in camouflage pants, a faded short-sleeved blue-and-green striped shirt, with a gray flat cap covering short brown hair, and made his way inside. Okay, he thought, he's just attending some illegal street fights, nothing too troubling. Unless he's making bets he can't pay off. Which... is very possible, yeah.