Jump to content

Gizmo

Moderators
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Posts

    11,085

  • Joined

  • Last visited

 Content Type 

Profiles

Forums

Freedom City Guidebook

Freedom City PBP: A How-To Guide

Gallery

Events

Everything posted by Gizmo

  1. Gizmo
    Archived at player's request.
  2. Gizmo
    Obvs Cannibal Fred. And let's not rule out kissing entirely, Tiff!
  3. Gizmo
    "Huh, lookit that," the weirdly marbled woman said while shaking a bit of debris from the smashed wall out of her tousled hair. Whatever she'd been expecting to find on the other side it hadn't been so many familiar faces. She raised her free hand to cup her mouth and call across the chamber, "Ay, Smith! Issat yer mum? You look alike-- oi!" She grabbed at her deranged double a moment too late, the other Winifred slipping away. For the first time she watched a very familiar transformation from the outside and grimaced. "Well bollocks." Before anyone else had had a chance to react Robin was already there next to her attacking the Feral Alkahest head on. "Haha, well done! That one's the baddie, if you were gettin' us confused, yeh?" She followed her roommate's lead and dropped low before swinging upward with a punch that landed squarely under the chin of her brutish mirror image. The impact resounded impossibly loudly, like a felled redwood hitting the forest floor, forcing the Feral Alkahest back several paces despite its size advantage. "Yer just embarrassing us in front of new people, cuz. Oughta--" Again she was cut off as a shot rang out. "Mattie!" The grab she's made to get ahold of her opponent went wide as her attention was abruptly split. "He's holding a baby, you utter @#$%!" she screamed in the sniper's direction, the jade colour running across her skin like veins of ore flaring briefly with a disturbing fluorescence. Gritting her teeth she looked to Robin. "I'll fight my own demons, help him! Please!"
  4. Gizmo
    Well, fair enough. The Solution Standard Action: Attack Feral Alkahest; Power Attack 5: 1d20+5 8 Hero Point: Attack Feral Alkahest; Power Attack 5, HP Reroll: 1d20+5 11 Becomes a 21 and a DC 36 Toughness Save. Improved Grab: Opposed Grapple Check: 1d20+33 34 Well that won't work.
  5. Gizmo
    How far away is Woundmaker from the Solution? Just figuring out the Solution's priorities!
  6. Gizmo
    Jack of all Blades / Jill O'Cure Interceptors: Sounds of Silence (2) Reagent / The Solution / The Alkahest Pop Quiz: Or Are You Deceived? (2) GM / NPC Revanche: At the Point of a Sword (1) Quiet month! Ref point can go to Lou.
  7. Gizmo
    The visiting ambassador’s sneering comments raised a rolling wave of angry muttering, in contrast to the earlier shouting. There were plenty of representatives present who didn’t appreciate being called vassals of the Lor and just as many who objected to any comparison between the Republic and the Khanate but they were not a united front on the subject. A reptilian representative about halfway up the left side of the chamber called for the floor and rose from his seat. The coppery scales of Hak’tuk’s face had lost their sheen with age and his movements were slow but the majority of the assembly quieted immediately at his request. ‘Long lived and with a longer memory,’ was the common joke about the archivist turned radical turned statesman; long enough to remember the whole of his planet’s occupation as part of the Khanate. “Forgive me, ambassador but it sounds as though you’ve spent too much time talking with your own propaganda writers,” Hak’tuk began in a vacuum dry drawl, eliciting a few muffled chuckles throughout the chamber and a rippling across the flat faces of the Grue that amounted to the same. “No one here is foolish enough to confuse collaboration with conquering. The Khanate has an opportunity to leave behind the leadership of a maniac and hatch something better.” He blinked slowly with both sets of eyelids. “I’m sad to hear you failed to rise to the occasion.”
  8. Gizmo
    Jack of all Blades Initiative: 1d20+9 10 Oh noooo
  9. Gizmo
    The Solution Initiative: 1d20+5 18
  10. Gizmo
    The sound of bullets hitting Caradoc's armour covered the low rumbling at first but the sound grew in intensity until thorny vines as thick as lampposts burst through the ground beneath the mind controlled gunmen. Willow, covered in jagged layers of preternatural hardwood, clenched her raised hand into a fist and the plants began to wreak havoc other targets, sweeping some off of their feet at the knees and binding others like an octopus' tentacles and pinning them in place. With a terse sound from the back her throat she left the vines to their work and joined Jack of all Blades as they stepped through the hewn door on either side of Bombshell, flanking her like bodyguard. The swordsman gave Dragonfly a grateful nod before drawing a sliver of the twisted physics jutting from her gauntlet into his own hand where it grew into a curved sabre with a spiked hand guard. He flicked his wrist to spin it about almost laconically, the hem of his great coat flaring out a bit as he did. "We'll carve out a path," he told Bombshell, his body language coiled with a jungle cat's promise of imminent violence. "Just point the way."
  11. Gizmo
    The taller, greyer Winifred looked down at her convulsing counterpart with something akin to disappointment. "They done a real number on you, huh, cuz?" She looked over her shoulder at the familiar chittering and broke into a broad grin. "Ay, Merlin! Is the whole gang here?" Almost immediately her expression clouded over as the next thought crossed her mind. "Wait, is they? Cor, I'll break some heads tonight yet! C'mon, Mattie!" Without any further deliberation the not-quite-Alkahest reached down and grabbed the gnashing Winifred by the back of her strange corset, holding the feral creature at arm's length like a temperamental cat. Looking briefly up and down the hallway she headed off in the direction the monkey had come at a jog.
  12. Gizmo
    "Praetorians." Th'emme's voice was measured but some trick of acoustics allowed it to instantly cut through the rising din of interjections. "While your unique perspectives are appreciated I would remind you that you are here in a security capacity are neither elected representatives nor recognized ambassadors to this Senate. I would invite you to communicate your concerns through the appropriate channels, as is the right of all Coalition citizens." The diamond hard look she gave Corona and Vyrdnaya in turn made the lack of wisdom in speaking further out of turn abundantly clear. That same sense quieted the rest of the chambers as the Lor woman turned her attention back to their visitors. "Forgive the interruption, Ambassador Raal. The Station has a far more egalitarian culture than the Khanate. We have also developed a culture of forthrightness as you yourself perceptively remarked upon. In that spirit, please allow me to be perfectly clear." Despite her already immaculate posture Th'emme somehow managed to stand just a little bit straighter, shoulders just a little more square. "Dovax is indeed a subject of mutual concern and this Coalition was forged by the need for all conscionable sentients to stand united in the face of threats to their liberty and well-being. As such, should any world, government or collective in our esteemed membership find itself the target of would-be conquerors or petty dictators, it would not be they would should anticipate repercussions." At her side Jilinson-08's communicator offered a subtle vibration in warning. A moment later information feeds from the Spinal Core began to stream across the screens before Th'emme, hidden from the Khanate delegation. If she noticed she certainly showed no signs of distraction, locking eyes unnervingly with Raal.
  13. Gizmo
    Erik was quieter than usual while Talya spoke, listening intently as she described a few of the ghosts haunting her past and intruding on the present. As the grimness that came with an impending fight settled over the gathered heroes he finally spoke up again. "The way I see it we've never needed to kill the bad guys who don't come back to life to stop them, no point in starting now. That said, these guys do not get to come after any more of our people after tonight. I trust the judgement of everybody standing here to figure out what that's going to take in the moment." For all that there were several people in the room far older than they looked his all too human years seemed to weigh on him for a moment. Then the swashbuckler in his resurfaced with a wry grin. "They're a unit but we're a family; they don't stand a chance. Let's go show them why."
  14. Gizmo
    The hand that burst through the wall of the cell in a shower of stone fragments and shards of shatterproof glass was granite grey shot through with veins of luminescent green like a rich ore deposit. Quick and strong, fingers wrapped around the feral Winifred's head and pulled her bodily off of Matt before unceremoniously tossing the thrashing cannibal across the room. "Hands off cuz, get yer own!" More of the wall was shoved away, widening the hole enough for the hand's owner to step through. It wasn't Winifred, exactly. For one thing this woman was easily seven feet tall and head to toe hard, athletic muscle rendered in the same marbled colours. The sleeves had been torn off of the remnants of her dress shirt and at her new height it rode up enough to showcase broad shoulders and washboard abdominals. The surefooted swagger of her steps, jungle catlike and the cocky grin under tousled emerald hair didn't seem like they belonged to Winifred either, even if the features and their proportions were all familiar. She looked Matthew over and her grin widened. "Hullo, Mattie! Yer looking worse for wear but I ain't sorry to see you, neither. Here, hold this, would you?" She handed the disoriented guitarist what proved to be a wailing infant then turned back to the first Winifred he'd encountered and cracked her knuckles. "Have to have a sisterly talk, we do."
  15. Gizmo
    Ghost Girl looked up from fussing over Tarva in the aftermath of the scrying ritual to say, "Well I can just scout ahead if we're going. I can be invisible, I love this weather and most desiccated-mummy-life-stealing-rejuvination things won't work on somebody who's already dead!" It hasn't been a popular plan the last time she'd tried to work with Caradoc and Miss Americana but hopefully a mountaintop would require less of faith than an alternate dimension. "Hold on. If we're dealing with magic - magic that reacted when you two showed up - we've got zero reason to think any kind of camouflage is going to hold up," Jill objected, expression already sour at the thought of trekking through the icy winds. "And it's not like you're dead dead." "Oh, I am, though. I died years ago," the poltergeist explained with the tone of someone who'd had to make the same polite clarification more than once and expected to again. The medic exhaled and did her best not to visibly roll her eyes. She'd met vampires and ghouls but she'd also seen her sister-in-law disintegrated and reform. Having died and being dead weren't exactly the same thing in their circles. "I meant that you're not functionally dead." "No, I'm pretty dead." Ghost Girl had folded her arms and unconsciously floated a little higher into the air. Jill rubbed her temples and looked about the room for support.
  16. Gizmo
    Winifred's necktie and vest had long since been discarded in the far corner of her cell and the top few buttons of her dress shirt undone in concession to the fevered pitch with which she worked over simmering bowls and fuming beakers. Her captors had stocked her rudimentary lab with a wide variety of ingredients but cannily nothing in great enough volume that she could fashion an effective incendiary or sufficient acid to breach the walls that held her. Even the heat of the gas burner was frustratingly meagre, slowing down her work. Even so sweat dotted her brow and she took long, shaky breaths as remaining composed became more and more difficult as what she guessed to be hours ticked past. She looked up warily as the lighting in her cell and the one adjacent to it shifted, fearing for a moment that she'd taken long enough that they were about to introduce pulsing lights or some other stressor to force a transformation. Instead her face scrunched up into a scowl as she recognized Abel, now wearing an unbelievably pretentious black lab coat. "Did your masters decline the additional funding to have 'evil' embroidered in red thread across the breast?" she called with a snap. He might have simply been ignoring her as her doppelgänger was paraded about unwillingly but from the complete lack of reaction and the change in illumination she suspected he could neither see nor hear her at the moment. She, however, could hear perfectly well as Abel was suddenly slammed against the forward wall of the other cell by a familiar albeit dishevelled figure. "Matthew!" she cried out in surprise only to once again see no response. As he addressed the maddened version of her from Smith's home world the bottom fell out of her stomach. "No! That isn't me, you unbelievable git!" She pounded on the wall connecting the two cells with both fists, desperately trying to get his attention. "You're going to get yourself bloody eviscerated and-- nnngh!" Her left arm spasmed violently and her right hand clenched into a useless claw as the familiarly, horrible feeling of sinews tearing themselves apart began to wrack her frame as fear and rage cascaded through her without hope of reprieve. "Damn-n-nation..." Winifred muttered through gritted teeth, staggering back over to her workbench. "Have to be g-good enough." Clumsily she tossed the last two mixtures she'd produced into a single glass tube, the reaction a bubbling, preternaturally luminescent green. Gripping it and ignoring the searing heat on her fingertips the alchemist hesitated. "If there is a God in h-h-heaven with any pity, it would be exceptionally n-nice if I c-nnh-could save my friend and not mur-murd-murder a baby." Without another word she downed the haphazard serum in a single burning gulp before falling to her knees and screaming.
  17. Gizmo
    With smooth, almost languid movement Midnight replanted his feet in front of the door and squared his shoulder, silently exhaling to refocus his swimming vision. Having to remain in one place in plain view put him at a distinct disadvantage given his skillset and yet his body language remained undeterred. The mystery man cracked his neck once and snorted derisively, having taken the time traveler's measure and finding himself unimpressed. "Not the one biting off more than he can chew." In a blur of movement that owed nothing to a power suit or temporal tampering he shoved one escrima stick forward like a cattle prod into Gold's stomach and brought the other cracking down on his opponent's wrist. "Go. Home."
  18. Gizmo
    Right, sorry for the wait. Midnight II Move Action: Startle Gold, DC 30 with Skill Mastery. Standard Action: Escrima Sticks vs Gold: 1d20+14 17 Jeez, not his day. Let me know if that hits after the Startle. It's DC 25 with Sneak Attack.
  19. Gizmo
    "I think... yes? Yes." Set made her way to her feet without her usual grace or aplomb, blinking owlishly. "Quite tis chaos bit a--" The godling pursed her lips and raised both index fingers in front of her face, sliding them away from each other as though drawing a line in the air. "Ahem. You take my meaning, I expect." She looked intently down at one hand, fingers clenching slightly. Whatever she thought might happen evidently failed to, a confusing mix of disappointment and relief washing over her regal features. With a measure of composure returning she was able to focus on Huang's own expression. "You changed, sweet, just a touch. Your timeline?" she inferred, frowning and reaching out to place a hand against his forehead like she was checking for a fever. "Do you feel rightly corporeal? Does causality continue to flow downstream? I shan't have you unravelling into could-have-beens on me! Tis an order." Her voice cracked almost imperceptibly over the last word and she tried to play it off as an aftereffect of the shapeshifting spasm even as she fussed over the disoriented dhampir.
  20. Gizmo
    Winifred stood silently in the cell for a long minute, waiting to see if the voice continued. Once she was certain the conversation was finished with she let out a long breath and massaged her temples. Her captors seemed to be placing an awful lot of faith in her ability to manage her condition in far from ideal circumstances and for the sake of Matthew and the so-far unnamed infant she didn't seem to have much choice. She stepped over to inspect the crying baby, not really sure what she was meant to be looking for apart from ensuring there wasn't anything in the crib upon which they might injure themselves. "If it's any consolation I don't believe any of us are any more content with the situation than you," she muttered, leaving them where they were rather than risk failing to support the head or whatever one was meant to do while holding such a tiny creature. She hadn't been entirely exaggerating about her ill developed maternal instincts and this didn't really seem the time to learn by trial and error. Instead she walked over to the chemistry set, making disapproving tutting sounds under her breath at the subpar equipment. It would have to do. She glanced up to see her staring double and grimaced. "I expect I'm going to have to put you out of your misery before you attempt to return the favour, dear." The alchemist studied the other woman's face for some sign of understanding. "If there's any of, well, me left in you that would be really helpful so feel free to chime in with something apart from shouting and maniacal laughter. No rush, we don't seem to be going anywhere." They'd taken some fairly effective precautions against the Alkahest after all, she acknowledged as she picked up a beaker. Unfortunately for them they'd failed to properly account for Winifred Wei.
  21. Gizmo
    Will Save vs DC 20: 1d20+9 18
  22. Gizmo
    Sure, I'll have him blow another HP to shake the daze.
  23. Gizmo
    "I'm on board with atomizing," Jill agreed, arms crossed and leaning against a table where she could keep an eye on the shadow sorceress and her floating gal pal. It sure would have been nice to have an unbiased magical expert to double-check the scrying but instead she was just going to have to keep her eyes peeled and convince herself that she'd be able to recognize something wrong when she saw it. "What are we expecting, here? Are we getting a projection or something or is it just special effects and then we have to trust whatever she says she saw?" "Shh!" Ghost Girl shushed from the opposite side of the scrying circle, casting a peevish look at the masked medic. The poltergeist had drawn her legs up underneath herself so that she was sitting in midair, as close to the edge of the black sigils as she could get without actually crossing their boundaries. Having a snarky audience was enough to put Tarva outside of her comfort zone even before the possibility of one of the Hounds showing up and Tarva did not always make the best decisions when she was pushed out of her comfort zone. She almost hoped something did appear so they could all focus on a common foe. A chill that had nothing to do with the frigid waste outside rolled off of her along with palpable waves of restlessness.
  24. Gizmo
    "Charming." One unforeseen advantage of her night terrors turned out to be that seeing a maddened, monstrous version of herself had lost some of its shock value. Her stomach did churn at the thought of the horrors left in the club being attached to her alter-ego, even if the truth could be brought to light. It was one thing for people to infer the sort of damage the Alkahest might wrought, it was another to have an example to point toward. Still, she couldn't afford to fall into that spiral of thinking now. She pressed her lips into a thin line both in derision and to keep her expression stiff. "I cannot imagine why anyone might feel compelled to locate a provably dangerous murderer in a timely manner, no," she shot back at the voice sarcastically, making a show of keeping her shoulders squared as she walked over to the chemistry set and began to take stock. "I've not illusions about a 'rescue mission' but let's not pretend you haven't placed yourself on a timeline. As for the child, you may have overestimated my maternal instinct." She wasn't sure how believable this was going to be but she tried to keep her voice cool. "I'm from the eighteen hundreds. I don't want it to die but infant mortality is what it is. Besides, you'd either need to let my lovely neighbour in here or else incapacitate me while the child was retrieved and now that I know to expect it I have to wonder how well your facility would withstand two Alkahests." She looked up from the supplies again. "Which isn't to say I'm unwilling to bargain, only that I find myself underwhelmed by your jejune attempts at theatre. I suppose the biblical references should have been telling; Milton you are not." She clapped her hands and suppressed a gag as she caught another look at the bloody finger-painting out of the corner of her eye. "So. You shan't see a drop until I know what's been done with my colleague."
  25. Gizmo
    If she had simply been left in silence Winifred suspected she would have continued in her terrified spiral but the voice over the intercom, implied threats and blatant psychological jabs coated in a thin veneer of amiable civility, was something she was more familiar with than the speaker might have known. It gave her something to focus on and as always the mounting fear was joined by a blistering coal of anger. "And you put her in a corset, which says an awful lot about you," she snapped back, teeth clacking against each other as she bit off the words. The hot anger felt good against the cold pit of anxiety and looking through the transparent wall at the metal 'Control' embedded in her doppelgänger's back she began to make more connections. "You would be the person or persons we have to thank for Mr. Archer's ordeal, then?" Remembering the holographic exam gone wrong, the looks on her friends' faces, Winifred felt her right arm spasm slightly but the tunnel darkening around the edges of her vision was interrupted by another wail from the baby. There was a certain simplicity she nearly had to admire. "The child is a hostage against the Alkahest. Less expensive than impervium, I suppose." There was a snarl in her voice but inwardly the alchemist began reciting her exercises. She could not afford to have an episode, not now, for either of their sakes. She was steady enough at least to straighten and stand without leaning against the wall, looking about for signs of a camera. "The supplies imply that you wish me to make something for you. Given the lengths you went to to acquire a version of me with a markedly narrower skill set I assume you're looking to replicate my serum. Am I warm?"
×
×
  • Create New...