Ari
-
Posts
7,853 -
Joined
-
Last visited
Content Type
Profiles
Forums
Freedom City Guidebook
Freedom City PBP: A How-To Guide
Gallery
Events
Everything posted by Ari
-
Bruised and Dazed again...Fiating you reroll that, Rob. Keep the higher roll.
-
GM Miss Grue Finding one mind in a million is never easy, but for a race of natural(or at least naturally potential) telepaths like the Grue it was much easier than the norm. And Abby's mind, fluctuating with fears, was hard to miss in as confident a crowd as an A.S.T.R.O. expo. One image dominated her waking mind: masses, streams, crowds of people marching slowly to their deaths. And herself in the middle, frozen, watching as brightly-clad beings swooped or ran or teleported to the rescue of those around her, while her fumbling hands did nothing except push the shades a little faster to their dooms. A massive cloud of horror spread over the image, and Daphne could feel the cloud reaching out to her. Who are you? it asked. This isn't worth your time. This one is lost.
-
GM Marsha glared at Rene. "That's what I just told you, I can't. I've tried! I've done everything I can think of to make it leave me alone! I've painted pictures that are the total opposite of my dreams, I've taken drugs to stop dreaming at all." she grimaced at the memory "They made me vomit, but whatever. I've even taken up a stupid dream journal to try and see if they're attached to anything in real life, and all I've got is 'supes awesome, me suck'." Rubbing her face vigorously, the artist said "I can't believe that's all there is to it. There has to be something else, it can't be that simple. I can't be that simple..." Getting up brusquely, Marsha retrieved the broken toy and tossed it into an open trash can. Facing the ancient artist she snapped "So! If you've got all the answers, how do I make this all go away? Convince myself that I'm the specialest enduring little snowflake? Paint something to trap my insecurity and show how dumb it is? Work for a humanitarian org?"
-
GM Stronghold Hissing irritably as Haukea refused to bite, the dream dogs scuttled in a circle around Stronghold and Abby. "Thank you," the older woman muttered softly as she drew closer to Haukea, gently swaying whenever the small bundle in her(slightly torn and dirtied) arms started to whimper "but we have to do...something. If we look for and find this kid's parents, or survivors or something, and get them out of this place, maybe it'll solve my problem? Make those..." she looked at the monsters and quickly looked away "...things leave?" "You don't have a problem, Abigail Simmons" said the eyeless dog. "You are the problem. Little Carlos there would be awake by now if not for you. Instead he'll keep dreaming, drawing closer and closer into my hands..." "It isn't like anyone will ever know, either" said the mouthless dog "children can't talk. And when they do, they are easily ignored. It's why so many evil things happen to them, you see. That and your weakness."
-
GM Amelyth Surveying his potential savior with a slight squint and pursed lips, Ted considered what Amanda had told him. "N-ooooo, not really into magic and stuff. It's all just a trick, right? Not like they've got 'magical powers'" he waved his hands vaguely in the air "or anything? And the last time there was a big science expo with those A.S.T.R.O. weirdos somebody got turned into a soundwave, so I'm kinda iffy on them too..." Scratching his head, the scruffy young man mulled over their options, coming to a decision with a shrug "Eh, to hell with it. At least I can yell at 'em if I get turned into something crazy. Let's go-wait." Turning from the direction of the con-center to Amelyth again, Ted frowned "Wait...isn't this all because I can't stand up to my brother? Why don't I just give you the address of the place, and you can be there in case he tries anything when I tell 'im he's full of (@&$? I guess we could check out the expo, though..." Arriving at the gadget show, the duo had to wait in line to even reach the Mind and Mentality booth, and it was over twenty minutes before they pushed their way through the crowd to the dream chairs. "Hey buddy!" Ted called cheerfully over to the sour-looking Indian woman fiddling with a control pane tied by cables to the colorful setup "We'd like a session, that cool?" "No." Was the short, inelegant reply. Glancing over at the new arrival, the woman added "Dr. Faiur. And let me be clear: No. This thing hasn't been reset yet, you aren't party to anybody I owe anything, and after the last time," her cold eyes lighted on Amanda "I'm not letting a super within thirty feet of my creation. Go talk to the chemists if you want to play. I'm busy." "Did somebody say 'chemists'?!" a cheery voice bellowed from behind the pair, which soon revealed its owner to be a hirsute Korean man built like a small barrel and with a young, tenuous beard over a very strong smile "I'm Chung, an undergrad of just that field!". He shoved a tray at them, full of small, round things that looked like miniature cakes. "Take one, get one free memory clearing!" went on the eager chemist, beaming like the Sun in a way remarkably like a used-car salesman "shuffle out those old mental cobwebs and wake up bereft of doubt and forgetfulness! Their, uh, effects are temporary," Chung admitted sheepishly, to a scornful sniff from Dr. Faiur as she carefully adjusted an adaptor "but I can guarantee they'll make your dreams real eye-openers!" Staring dumbfounded at the fast-talking scientist, Ted slowly reached out and delicately picked up one of the pills. Shrugging at Amelyth he offered "Well, maybe it'll do something?" and swallowed it.
-
GM Rene de Saens The apartment was cramped and stuffed with things. None of it was useless or decorative besides the paintings hanging on a few walls, showing off a plethora of different styles(including something so like a Titian it was a surprise to see another name in the corner), and whether it was a pile of books in a corner dedicated to the laws of most of the fifty states, a well-used ironing board or a collection of paint cans, everything was put carefully into order. On the desk where Marsha had been sleeping was a thick pile of single-spaced papers headed with something about a new traffic law in Atlantic City. Besides the splashes of artistic color on the walls, everything was quite flat and plain. Gathered and ordered to present the image of a serious mind to an even dense observer. Its owner shrugged irritably at Rene's words, flicking dark hair away from her face "Well, if that's true, why do I keep failing? If it's just that I have to want to be free, why aren't I?" Picking up an admirably garish La Siren(collector'sitemfigurine) action figure from the window, she started idly bending and twisting the limbs, glaring at the plastic, eternal smile on the thing's lips "I'm not gonna do anything drastic, but this has been going on for a while now. And every time one of you comes under something like it, they always just punch out the thing and walk away without a care in the world. But I..." her grip tightned on the toy, a faint creaking starting to build as Marsha gritted her teeth, pale face turned fully on the tiny Siren "...I. Just. Can't. Win!" With a crack, Siren fell in two halves to the floor, bouncing into a corner. "It's not my job to win at that stuff" she muttered, for a moment sounding very young "you people are supposed to do it. We can't fight the monsters you do, we can't do jack against aliens or supervillains or even our own dreams. I don't deserve to win. We don't even deserve to live here, if we're all so useless..." Rene could see, clear as day, the black strands as they thickened. They led from Marsha's head to her easel.
-
Well they're not here for Stronghold, so she's not got much to worry about for herself. Her barrier does keep them from Abby too.
-
Not necessary. What are Haukea's intentions?
-
Hope this day is a good one, Sorus. And that you see many more.
-
These worthies are now enshrined in my shitty prose. Mind-Set not added because the sky has wings.
-
Charisma roll: 5. Rerolling(2HP): 14. Wow. DC22 Toughness save: 12. You know what? I'm sticking with that.
-
10 on the Initiative roll, and 18 on the Notice roll.
-
For sake of clarity, horngeek is up to bat.
-
I strongly argue for the stretchy guy. It's a simple, classic kind of character that we could really use more of. As it is, Jack of all Blades is still pretty much the only especially-active jokester, and he's matured pretty far out of the 'irreverent up-and-comer' archetype he once all but cornered. Geckoman is the only other PC in that space, and he too has gotten a LOT less crazy than he used to be. Point being, we have about 25 or so straight-laced sorts(they could field half a Legion lineup!), a few more lighter-hearted sorts, and two calming jokesters. The snarky new guy is not a vital niche, but it IS a necessary one. Somebody combining that with real excess confidence and the crazy, bizarre descriptors that come into play once a character's body starts whipping and bending would have PC that's both distinct, useful, and enjoyable to read and write. Of course, changing a few words of that last paragraph to fit the other three concepts wouldn't make it false, but for reals the site could use a stretchy guy.
-
GM Mali's quiet words were at least enough to make Petro even more curious, but the excited boy had to wait with the others, hunkering down in total silence as the people of Tona's village watched the trees and leaves for the least sign of incoming danger. Cut off from Tona and Cerys, they had no idea just how close it was... The pair managed to keep clear of the automatons. Long practice and needing to sneak by things with much better eyesight and hearing than even the Steam General's troops meaning they reached the clearing long ahead of the creeping monsters. A few whispered words and soon the whole camp trembled with horror. Somehow, after years, they had been found. More than a few suspicious eyes glanced at Tona and the rest, but none said a word. The transportation was all that was needed. Leda signaled Kit with a twist of her hand, letting her know that all was ready.
-
GM As Kyle slipped noiselessly into the depths of the Celestia, he was confronted at every turn by the very laxest of security, the lack of even a complimentary wave-lock or RNA-scanner. As Zanvir's dinner party rollicked away, the Star Knight slid through a pleasantly quiet hatchway into the very inner sanctum of the vessel, and a vision of the future. Thanks to frequent exposure to wonders most people on Earth couldn't have even imagined, Kyle's innate awe for things that were merely loud, huge or bright, had faded. It was now mostly replaced for a more mature awe of things that did impressive stuff. So the clear, ten inch by five inch oblate spheroid that hovered gently in the grip of several gravitic fields, in the middle of the round dais ringed by control panels, whose only notable sign of even doing anything was the faint tingling at the back of Kyle's sensors, was very impressive indeed. Most ships plying the space lanes needed something to provide lots of reactions in order to get enough energy. This made fuel a constant problem, but the cross-overs of parts and design cues meant that once you'd seen one advanced engine room, you could go hundreds of years back and try to fix something made before the Treaty of Westphalia. If you were really good and really smart, it would even work. But apparently whoever had designed and built Zanvir's new ride before he stole it had wanted to do away with all that. Thus, the energy resulting from gravity warping around a super-dense object thrummed through every wall, and even adapted to the presence of a giant magic space rock. It was almost a shame to shoot something so beautiful. But "So pretty..." wouldn't exactly stand up in court. And Kyle had met enough lovely people with rotten hearts to know what hesitation could do. The bolt of energy from Cavalier's armor sent the spheroid just too far from the safe zone, and with a crashing roar everything flared with implacable power, only to then grow still. The jolt of the ship jerking off course sent Kyle slamming into a nearby bulkhead, which was lucky as the Blue Star came crashing through the roof right where he'd been standing. No longer tethered outside the material plane and up close, Kyle barely needed his enhanced sensors to see the growing cracks and dangerous glow within. Just being close the man could feel something wrong. Of course, nothing would be gained from sticking around, and as furious shouts and yells of confusion boomed across his local comm-frequency, it was soon clear that Prince Zanvir and his pals would soon be on the trail of their saboteur!
-
Darksider, as always I am eager to hear any ideas you might have.
-
GM Stronghold At the approach of the superheroine, the monsters, a confused tangle of materials that seemed to have neither beginning nor end as they blended together, halted in a scrabble of limbs and sniffed the air. A low, guttural sound started to come from them, resolving itself into a clear snicker. Snatching up the whimpering baby, Abby held it close, squinting into the distance, asking nervously "Where...where do we go now? Should we find the baby's parents?". The wreckage strewn around the duo constantly shifted and flickered, changing seamlessly. Haukea also had a vague sensation of moving, though where was impossible to guess with the subtly-changing landmarks and constant haze. "Good thing she's here." Said one of the monsters, its eyeless face leering at Abby. "Otherwise you'd be helpless." Said the other, mouthlessly grinning. Abby's eyes flashed "That's not true!" She yelled furiously, but a sudden false jump from one of the monsters sent her darting away, renewing the sniggers. "See?" said the second. "You should leave her behind," the first told Stronghold as it began stalking in a slow arc around the two "she just slows you down. Like all the rest. You'd be gone by now if not for her."
-
Starting at the gun reports, Marceau barked over his shoulder "Fool! Do you want them to kill you all? Because they'll try to if you press them! Get yourself and the rest out of here!" Lunging ungainly into the side-street, the sight of the nearby bum would have been an unpleasant one. Unless you were Marceau Suvou, of course. Darting over and nudging the homeless man brusquely awake, the King of Suits spoke rapidly once he was sure the man would hear him clearly. "Frank? It's me, Suity. I need you to go and call Haber, Smiles, everybody you can. Tell them that King Cole is after me and every cape in this part of the city, and if we don't stand together he'll pick us apart!" Carl groaned on his shoulder, and the lean man added hastily "I have to get this man to...somebody, anyone who can help him. But I will meet you and the rest at Jerk Deftly's." Desperation was stamped on Marceau's face, he could feel the noose tightening and knew now that acting on his own was just what King Cole was after. He wanted to deal with his enemies piece-meal, and the lone-wolf habits of most capes meant that was only too easily arranged. But only a few years ago Marceau had helped organize a substantial number of Fensers to defend against the weaker Metaceptors Doktor Archeville's possession had loosed upon that part of the city. That wasn't something that people just forgot. He could count on them to remember that. Maybe...
-
Hope your birthday was grand, horngeek. And that you see many more.
-
GM Rene de Saens Opening like a metallic flower, the painting drew in and engulfed the ancient wizard. A cascade of colours and sensations flowed through him as the distance between he and the artist of the work was drawn short, space folding like napkin to bring the seeker and object together. With a bound, Rene deftly entered Marsha's cramped student apartment, knocking over a (blessedly empty) can of paint as he emerged from her easel. The woman was slumped over a desk covered in books about light physics, breathing deeply and evenly. If somebody had seen her then, and not what Rene's keen dreamsight had seconds before, they'd have said Marsha looked outright peaceful. It didn't take much to wake her up. Starting at Rene's approach, the pessimist's head jerked up, the placid expression twisting into horror and panic as she jumped awkwardly up and grabbed a nearby knife, staring at the old man in front of her for a few seconds before slowly relaxing, and lowering the weapon. Favoring him with a sour look she said "Wow. It's like you're bent on seeing me at my weakest and most pathetic. What a hobby." Shifting he chair over to a low window, she sat heavily down, staring at the world outside. "So...what do you want? Gonna tell me you know how to kill that shadow thing? Got advice on dream-fighting? I hear it used to be all the rage in primitive cultures"
-
Amelyth recalls and formulates the following information. The Inner Spectre is a long-known figure of despair and fear in the Dream Dimension, a monster that takes a form of darkness and terror as it overwhelms its victims with negative emotion and excessive consciousness of their weaknesses. Like most demons, it can't actually get anything out of the emotional state of its host, but the Spectre has always seemed more interested in causing wider and wider misery over tormenting specific individuals. It's most famous in the human world as the inspiration behind most depictions of nightmares. The unknowable horror descending on you, tireless and inescapable. Amanda remembers that recently there has been a rash of nihilistic, seemingly pointless behavior in various parts of the city. The people taken in or stopped all expressed despair with their life, and seemed incapable of resolving their problems on their own. The 'chemical imbalance' theory of depression(where low amounts of certain inhibitors in the brain are considered a likely cause of the illness) seems to fit this kind of attack pretty well. Constant fear and worry leading to lowered levels of the vital chemicals, leading to senseless and irrational behavior. Tech does not get her anything. Besides there being an A.S.T.R.O. Labs expo nearby that might have something handy. Though I hasten to add that it will not have anything that will fix the problem outright, merely encourage a solution, at best.
-
GM Dragon Devine shrugged his weighty shoulders, a crackling staff sparking with electricity at either end appearing in his left hand as if by magic, similar implements emerging from the ill-lit circle of Dragons all around the Claremont students. "You know, Monsieur Devine," one of the other Dragons offered with a touch of nervousness that belied her fearsome mask "we could always just cut our losses. They can't catch-" her voice faltered at a glare from the towering man, the techno-gangster quickly adopting the same crouched fighting stance as the rest. Devine spoke "Our thanks for the demonstration, young friends. But we must refuse your offer. Too much rides on our work to give up that easily. Porro!" At that shouted word, Devine sprang at Solvrytter, while the other seven split themselves between Nevermore and Polarity, the dragon a crushed heap of fractured metal and circuits lying forgotten and trampled on the floor, the room soon filled with a chaotic melee, electricity and fire blasting through the air amid shouts, cries and howls!
-
GM Rene de Saens The wall of darkness seemed to shift to better look at Rene, and the old painter felt eyes appearing nearby. "Really? You have the smell of a mortal, but the air of a Dreamer...as you say, visitor. Few lie to our kind." Progressing onwards over the ephemeral dreamscape as the cage slowly broke and crumbled, the demon continued languidly "Self-knowledge and self-determination is all well and good, Wakeful One, but freedom goes only so far with your kind. Your race are so much cattle, they must be driven to do more than just exist and copulate. Their dreams are fitful and easily-swayed, and it is strength that a demon loves. The weak areRAAAUGGH" Silver lances crashed up through the darkness, goring the demon in a thousand places. Shouting aloud with anger, the wall seemed to constrict in on itself, the lances burning and melting away. A distant golden tower appeared in the mist, with Marsha flattening herself against it, staring at the monster creeping closer. "You see?" the demon said to Rene as the last spear fell out of the world, the ponderous mass resuming its trek "Her own thoughts in her own mind cannot expel me. She is a mere distraction, a snack on my passage to greater dining. The strongest of your world are elusive enough without this trash cluttering the planet. Driven to despair and self-hatred with only a few such instances as this, I shall sow through her the seed of something great, something to poison the wills of many and make your already trembling world shiver in fear!" "I am weak indeed, Wakeful One, but what must be borne in mind is that to us" the wall condensed for a flickering instant into an image of Rene in his younger days, though with eyes like bottomless pits "your race is even weaker. If you don't stop me. Who will?"
-
GM Amelyth Flying into the 'Sun' of Ted's mindscape, Amanda saw the world fold out around her, the sensations of the physical universe reasserting themselves now that her mind was fully enclosed in her body once again. The abstract world of Ted faded, but not before she heard the demon, chuckling to itself, start flying back to the barricades of insecurity. Still kneeling, Ted started as Amelyth's consciousness disentangled from his own, and blinking up hopefully at the young heroine he asked eagerly "Did..did you get it? Am I cured?"
