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Post by order99 on May 5, 2023 4:08:25 GMT
Apostate (Douglas Ames Cash, AKA Daniel Prince, Demon-possessed vigilante)
Origin: Half-Alien Class: Mystic Hero Antihero Level: 2 Alignment: Chaotic
STR 14 (27) AC 5/14 HP 13 Attack +1 (+2 to Strike and +3 Damage in Melee) Move 18
DEX 12 Save: 16, +1 Science, +2 Magic, Poison, Missles
CON 10 INT 11 Current Karma: 0 Current XP: 2500 Current Cash: $1400 WIS 13 CHA 16 (+1)
Background: Occultist-Doug gets a +1 to identify spells, translate mystic script, identify Magic Items and interact with the 'Mystic Grapevine'. If attempting to cast Ritual Magic Doug may add his Mystic Hero Level to his Saves vs Plot to succeed.
Languages and Skills(1D6): Doug is a native English speaker. He hasn't forgotten his training as a Caregiver-anyone relaxing under his supervision gains +1 HP to normal healing per Rest Turn.
Hangups: Tempted to Sin(the Editor may offer Karma to perform unheroic acts) Paper-thin Disguise (the fragile magics that let Doug pass as Human are disrupted by any use of his Origin or Class Abilities, even the passive ones) Flaming Footprints (leaves a trail when moving faster than 12)
Origin Abilities: Hell-forged Flesh, AC 5/14 and increasing. Fast as Flame, Speed 18 and improving.
Class Abilities: Demonic Strength-can dead lift 3200 lbs without activating a Power, Wrecks as Superhero 5 times/day at range of Touch and can Activate 2 Lvl 1 Powers/day. A River Broad But Shallow-has access to both Powers and Spells-but only those he knows. Known Abilities are: Detect Evil, Detect Magic, Magic Missle, Spider Climb, Charm Person, Poof! Leap I, Get Tough I, Wreck at Range, Spook Bad Guy. Mystic Being-all Powers are considered Magical in nature for purposes of Detect or Dispels, Save vs Magic to hide or counteract the attempts if aware of them.
Equipment
A half dozen expensive suits 2 decks of Playing Cards A flask of expensive Canadian Whiskey (using Wreck at Range on it makes a very expensive mid-air Molotov, perfect for intimidation) 4 Railroad Spikes, useful as weaponry (1D6-1, range 30 ft) or to emphasize a point by pinning someone to a wall 1927 Indian Motorcycle, only used when pretending to be Human A Wand stolen from a Magic-Using Mobster (unable to use it, Apostate poured Hellfire into it until it screamed and died-no longer holds Spells)
Description: Douglas Cash was once a slim, clean-shaven man with short auburn hair, green eyes and an infectious smile. A minor ritual allows Douglas a human seeming, though it is fragile-the illusion of Daniel Prince is that of a black-haired gentleman with calm blue eyes, a bushy mustache and a touch of grey at the temples.
Once the fragile illusion is pierced, Doug's true form is revealed-a slender yet well-toned man, with coppery hair that writhes as if in a high wind, black pools of darkness where eyes should be, with pinpricks of starlight for pupils- and a dark, almost burned complexion covered almost completely in a thin silver calligraphy of some sort. Apostate moves like a striking cobra, hisses and growls when angered, and steams rather than sweats when exerting himself.
Issue Zero: My Dearest Ava,
Somehow I am not surprised that you found me. You've been making quite the name for yourself recently-I wonder what the reaction was when the poor blind girl went to the Authorities for her Private Investigator license? And succeeded effortlessly? And that recent Radio interview with Herbert Morrison...Bravo, Ava. And the papers are calling you Delphi now, as in the legendary oracle? Adorable....
Thank you for realizing that I haven't yet learned Braille. I'm returning the favor with an empty fountain pen, pressed deep enough for you to feel properly. I only wish that I could tell you these things in person...but not yet.
You are not to blame for the mistakes that I made during the Ritual. It had to be done during the Ides of March under a Hunter's Moon, and I couldn't wait for another three years for the next Conjunction-and quite frankly the translation of Dee I used turned out to be utter rubbish, substituted Garlic for Moly and mispronounced two of the Entities I thought that I was entreating. You should have had those quartz orbs transmuted into living flesh, lovely storm-grey eyes with perfect, flawless vision...instead of what actually occurred. In a way you received far better than I had hoped-and at the same time far less. I only hope that you can forgive me for the outcome. And as far as the Price that you insist I paid? I would gladly pay it again-and was the burden so heavy? We were both given great power that night-and despite the costs to me, and the way I ran from your home in a blind panic? I am...mostly satisfied with the consequences.
And no doubt the recent sensationalism in the papers leads you to think that i'm...being influenced by strange and occult entities? Possessed by the Demonic perhaps? No my courageous Ava, remember your Lord Acton: "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men, even when they exercise influence and not authority, still more when you superadd the tendency or the certainty of corruption by authority." If I am influenced by anything my dear, it is by the lesson that our fathers and brothers and cousins learned from the Great War-sometimes, all of the finest of intentions and kindest aspirations fall to nought before the Tides of War. In the end, it was was only Superior Force and raw Power that won the day-and there were no Righteous men in the trenches. Neither my Father or my Uncle were the same when they returned from Europe-and i'm so very sorry that your own never came back...but Lakefront City is in a War of its own these past few years. Please do not judge me too harshly for meeting Wickedness with subterfuge, guile, even violence-the Families must be rooted out if this garden is ever to prosper again.
I cannot come to you tonight. Sometimes my temper gets the best of Sometimes things burn when I touch th When the illusion fails there is a monster in the mirr I am surrounded by dangerous, dangerous men. It is not safe for you.
In a few weeks I believe that a decisive blow will be struck against the corruption drowning Lakefront City. I will make time to visit you then. I'll tell you...everything. I'll let you judge my actions-and I pray that the person I am becoming is still worthy of your love.
Yours Eternal, Doug
Editor's Notes: Mystic Hero is a new Class of my own conceit, only briefly tested in my (still dormant, Blast It!) 1886 Steampunk Superpulp game. Class listed here:
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Post by Adminenkainen on May 6, 2023 23:52:39 GMT
You know my sense of humor by now; I prefer the name Occultist-Doug to the snootier Apostate.
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Post by order99 on May 7, 2023 14:21:35 GMT
You know my sense of humor by now; I prefer the name Occultist-Doug to the snootier Apostate. Well, Doug is a pretty snooty guy-he likely saw Ava turned into 'Delphi' by some local rag, read a tabloid article about a mysterious 'Damp Man' lurking about the place...and decided to get ahead of the curve before some bourbon-swilling pundit called him 'Demoniac' or 'Scribbles' or 'Graffiti '.....
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Post by order99 on May 20, 2023 6:49:44 GMT
The Wax Man (Tina Ames, Adopted Wisconsinite)
Origin: Alien Class: Superhero Level: 2 Alignment: Lawful
STR 11 AC 9/10 (5/14) HP 20 Attack: +1 Move 12 (18 or 36 ft Leap).
DEX 12 Save: 16, (+3 Poison, Missles, +1 Science, Magic)
CON 14 (26/+3)
INT 15(+1) Current Karma:1 Current XP: 2500 Current Cash: $800
WIS 12 CHA 10
Background: Bio-adaptive Survival Unit-Tina gets a +1/-1 AC in melee combat and +1 damage unarmed, and can adapt to eating the organic matter of any planet given enough time (Save vs. Poison every attempted meal-then she is fully adapted to that food).
Languages and Skills(1D6): Tina speaks and reads fluent English and German, and can fix anything from farm equipment to washing machines to the town clock,+1 to mechanics/repair checks. (As an Alien raised on Earth, Tina is considered Terran for Alien Environment checks and wouldn't know her native Durlan tongue if it bit her-Editor).
Hangups: Alien Shapeshifters Freak People Out (penalty on Reaction Checks when first showing off her powers) Rube From the Sticks (not used to City Life, etiquette or fashion) Alone in a Crowd ( Asexual Heteromantic presenting as Female in 1930's USA).
Origin Abilities: Run Faster, Leap Higher, Bullet-resistant Flesh. Vulnerability-Abilities are an outgrowth of her Durlan Shapeshifting and can only be used one at a time-and not at all in her cosmetically Human form.
Class Abilities: Durlan Vitality-add WIS to CON. Able to Wreck at Touch 4 times/day. May access up to 2 Lvl 1 Superpowers per day.
Equipment
3 sets of durable coveralls for work 2 casual dresses 1 fancy ball gown
1 sturdy 1926 Pedersen Cargo Bicycle with suspension seat, really comfy on rough roads 1 Messenger bag adapted into a crossed-bandolier style backpack, hard to lose when shapeshifting 2 sets of 'Shapeshifter Suits'-loose, powder-blue hooded tunics of nylon/silk with plenty of pleats and "give" (+1/-1AC as Costume). No Helmet fits a Shapeshifter, sadly... 1 First Aid Kit 2 full boxes of Ovaltine (works as a First Aid Kit, but only for Tina due to her Durlan heritage) 1 Toolkit full of bits and bobs, usually locked to her bicycle
Description: Tina Ames is a tanned, lanky Wisconsin farm girl with laughing green eyes, dirty-blonde hair hacked off at the neck, easy smile and tomboy manners. Her nails are short and not always clean. She dresses for the job and doesn't care if it's 'traditional' cooking and cleaning, or or if she's elbow-deep in a printing press or a Model T roadster. She usually wears her Mom's straw sunbonnet everywhere, preferring weather-resistance to fashion.
When Tina needs to lean on her Durlan heritage, she relaxes into a humanoid version of her Birth Form- a genderless being of medium height and slightly lumpy build, hairless, green-eyed, noseless and lipless, and a pale, waxy complexion that blushes slightly grey-green when emotional or exerting. If expecting to need this form Tina will have one of her 'battle tunics' at hand.
Issue Zero: Hey Ma? It's me Ma, it's Tina. Oh God Ma, don't cry-your Baby's just fine, i'm not dead, not hurt, not in jail and i'm not on the run-but I had to leave. I'm sorry I didn't leave a note or anything but-you saw the deep cuts on Queen Sheba's legs, right? The cover on the well was rotten through-yes Ma, that one, with the warning signs near the Northeast section-because cows can't read, Ma. What was I supposed to do, let her keep flailing around with two legs tangled in the lid? She was heavy Ma, but I guess...I...had what Doc Webster calls one of my episodes, and carried her to the barn in my arms like a big pile of laundry-
Doc Webster knows, doesn't he? He had to, he signed off on the adoption papers. He signed off on Steve and Terri too, but-they were normal, right? Not like me...no Ma, it's okay, I know you were going to tell me yourself. But I couldn't just leave that rotten cover open on an old dry well, so I grabbed those big heavy logs Pa was saving for when Dave Gaines could loan us the splitter-yeah, while I was still having my Fit and before it wore off and left me too pooped to do anything-and I can't believe you left the ladder, Ma, if you were so bound and determined to hide the spaceship-or seed pod or whatever that thing is-you should have unbolted all that stuff and just filled the well in with honest soil, put those weird metal cubes in the attic somewhere-
I know, you wanted to tell me. But I found the cubes and...I betcha don't know what they were for, right? Well, it turns out that when a Durlan touches them, they dissolve right through the flesh and into....yeah, Durlan. I was incubated on Durla-and those cubes? Alien edible library. I want you to close your eyes Ma, and picture a world pretty close to this one...and people not too unlike you and Pa and Steve and Terri. And then their leaders? They did something really stupid and everything on Durla turned sick and poisonous and the only things that didn't die are the ones that evolved to live in that poison-and the scientists and the Doctors all did the only thing that they could-and most of the Durlan folk died anyway...but enough of them became like me, and lived.
That's a lot to take in isn't it? Still not why I left...you see, these Durlans? Most of them never leave Home. They don't even want to think about it. But there's always just a few aren't there? And that's why a handful of Elites put samples of their best and heartiest stock in a few dozen pods and launched us heavenwards-they weren't looking to make friends, Ma...they wanted samples. I'm an honest to the Virgin Mary Alien Invader Ma, and-okay what's so Blessed funny about that?
You pictured me mounting a Heat Ray on Pa's tractor? Okay, that's a Jack Benny gag if I ever heard one-but it wasn't funny when all that Alien Learning hit me like a falling tree. It was so not funny that...I stopped being Tina. That's why I left Ma. Tina wasn't here any more, just, just something that saw everything as a, a sample. And so the Invader from Durla went around exploring and, well, eating. Tree bark, honey, bees, mushrooms, bobcat-yeah the Alien Explorer got jumped by a bobcat, guess who was hungrier? How long? At least three weeks-
Ma, no, stop you're going to make me blubber too...it's okay. Your precious baby girl got sick and things were bad but the fever broke and i'm well again by the Lord's Grace...and you know what brought me back? You did. My earliest memory Ma, was looking into the face of Evelyn Ames, my...not-quite arms wrapped around yours, and thinking, Mommy Pretty...and it didn't take baby Tina too long after that to quit slithering on the linoleum and learn to be pretty like Mommy too. And just like that I was Tina again, and I knocked on the door of the first place I saw and this lovely German Matron opened the door and just took me in without a moment's hesitation. Adolph and Gretchen Reinheart, came to America the same year as Grandpa, same part of Bavaria too. I just told them i'd gotten a fever while camping, left out the, er, fine details but that's more or less what happened. Anyway, the Reinhearts were dead set on feeding and clothing me, had me halfway to the Bus Depot when the Bearcat threw a transmission belt in the middle of the street, and by the time i'd grabbed a wrench and fixed it Adolph had this gleam in his eye...
Long story short Ma, your baby girl is typesetter and press maintenance at the Lakefront City Gazette! Oh and it turns out that there's a huge German contingent here so they need a translator for one of the local Shoppers, but that's just once a week so it's bonus money....yes Ma, Lakefront City. Your little Alien Forager managed to head over 200 miles Southwest in three weeks...so, i'm not coming back, not to stay at least. Once I get settled i'll drop-
No, Ma, it's not about a guy. You...do know that i'm only a girl because I want to be, right? Durlans, we sort of...bud. So, no romance for Tina right now. No, it's just that i've had time to think, really think about what I could have been...and not only am I not going to be an Invader, i'm going to be the exact opposite of that. I can change what I look like, and i've got some pretty unique Talents, and, well-there's some things that need fixing around this town. You and Pa raised us Lutheran, we can't just look the other way...yep, already started. They're calling me the Wax Man- Jimminy Crickets Ma, it wasn't my idea, I was telling everybody to just call me Samaritan, but some goof-off in the Bullpen suggested it to Danny in Features and....yeah. So anyway, the Gazette gets me the news fast, and if I decide i'm needed then...
Long Distance charges? Ma, today's my day off and i'm sitting here with five rolls of dimes-we've got as long as you want. Heck, get Pa over hear, decide how much of this you want Terri and Steve to know and we'll make this a....wait, Terri's mooning over Lyle Carter? When's the engagement....
(Editor's Note: I definitely recall making a customized Shapeshifter Class for H&H-and yet it turns out that Alien Superhero models the 'whatever I feel like being' free-for-all of Durlans better than I expected. Go Figure! Oh, and the Curse of the Damp Man strikes again, sorry Tina...)
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Post by Adminenkainen on May 22, 2023 1:43:13 GMT
Legion of Super Heroes shout-out!
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Post by order99 on May 22, 2023 6:28:50 GMT
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Post by Adminenkainen on May 23, 2023 3:57:35 GMT
Holy cow! I haven't read that thread/campaign in years!
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Post by order99 on May 24, 2023 6:25:46 GMT
Well, Gorlock was my inspiration for what I call an 'almost' Durlan... Gorlock was apparently altered by an the Oort Cloud and more limited than he remembers, no longer able to duplicate forms 'at will' with his antenna-but capable of developing non-Durlan abilities.
Likewise, Tina-brought up in a non-hostile and calorie-filled Terran environment-didn't even know that she had powers, the 'Durlan' form she vaguely recalls doesn't have antenna, and her Shapeshifting is more like a Martian's, full of generic, instinctive 'War-forms' and 'Utility-forms'. Tina lacks both the training of her kind and the constant harsh Darwinian pressures of Durla to hone her abilities-but likewise her Terran home didn't constantly try to poison her either, so she's probably the healthiest member of her kind since before the 6-Day's War.
A visiting Durlan hard-liner would probably consider Tina a dangerous Mutation(and a Deviant besides for choosing and keeping a gender). Likewise, one of J'onn J'onzz's kind would most likely think her an adolescent member of their own and bond over a shared love of Earth chocolate-right up until Tina lit a campfire to roast some s'mores...
And of course the 'Ovaltine gives her First Aid' bit is just a shout-out to Martian Manhunter and the absolute love of Oreo's that Keith Giffen gave him in the late 1990's(and which succeeding Writers have kept). Oddly enough Miss Martain of Teen Titans fame refuses to touch them, proclaiming that 'those things are like a half-dozen cappuccinos to you Terrans'...
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Post by order99 on May 25, 2023 2:37:27 GMT
Orphan (Miles Lahaine, Child of Unseelie Wrath)
Origin: Deity Sluagh Class: Fighter Level: 2 Alignment: Chaotic
STR 16(+1) AC 6/13 HP 11 Attack: +1(+2 melee) Move 15 (18 ft leaps)
DEX 13 Save 16 (+3 Poison, Missles, +1 Science, Plot)
CON 12
INT 10 Current Karma: 2 Current XP: 2500 Current Cash: $1300
WIS 10
CHA 8
Background: He Will Find You-once Miles has 'marked' his quarry, there is seldom anywhere you can hide. This Ability is Mystic in nature and cannot be used unless Miles has a fresh token of the target (blood, hair, clothing etc). Mundane evasions such as bathing, hiding tracks, changing buses, Line of Sight etc have no effect on the Skill Check, but Folk remedies against the Fae ( sincere prayers, turning ones clothing inside out, carrying a Holy Symbol etc) might confound him-use the Shadowing and Evasion Rules from H&H v2.2 Page 129-130. Dispel Magic, Remove Curse, Pass Without Trace and Protection from Evil all completely nullify this Ability, as does travel across Holy Ground, loss of the Token or 6+Exploration Turns have elapsed.
Languages and skills (1D6): Miles speaks and reads both fluent English and his late family's Gaelic. Miles is at home with the habits and habitats of sorcerers and supernatural beings-but non-social Skill checks are Hard...he is considered an Alien here on Earth.
Hangups: Pay Evil Unto Evil (rapists, murderers, diabolists, pederasts, slavers....just don't be one, okay?) Pay Good Unto Good (will risk his own existence for children, devout priests, sweet little old ladies, innocent puppies and kittens etc without that Save vs Plot restriction for Chaotic Heroes). Forever Mine (SCMs come and go-but if Miles has Pacted with you, you count as a Worshipper for purposes of Calling him-even if you become his Enemy).
Origin Abilities: Supernatural Flesh and Blood (AC 6/13 with Helmet Bonus, 18 ft Leap, +3" Speed) My Flock-Miles doesn't need or want Worship-but those who undergo the Pacting Ritual with him may Summon him. Miles can only answer such a Summons once per day. My Home-Miles has an a cozy house overlooking the shores of Lake Hali, where he can watch the ghosts of the Men of Ib catching the ghosts of long dead fish. He can travel from there to any cemetery on Earth, or back, once per day-along with any one creature he has Grappled. On Imbolc, All-Hallows or the Mexican Day of the Dead, he can take any of his Pacted with him equal to his current Level. Untapped Potential- if Miles ever takes up Sorcery, he gets a +2 Level Bonus on Summoning Spells. The Banes of my Existence-Miles is not part of a Pantheon...but he shares all of their Fae weaknesses. Shotgun shells of Blessed Rock Salt will bypass his AC/Helmet Bonus, as do weapons of cold-worked and magnetized iron. Church Bells makes him drowsy and prone to napping on the nearest grave (Exhaustion penalty) and he cannot cross a Circle of Protection without consent.
Class Abilities: Miles may wear any armor and use any weapon. He may shoot firearms without a Save vs. Plot. He may make up to 2 attacks per Turn against Mobsters of 1HD or less.
Equipment
A cabin-sized home at the shores of Lake Hali, his by right. He has a shelf of books from a previous occupant-some in languages he doesn't read. One or two look to be a Grimoire-or possibly an illustrated Travelogue. Miles is getting a taste for the poetry of Robert Burns of late... The copper kettle and dinnerware have seen better days, but the tiny stove is in flawless condition.
2 sets of sturdy clothing, child-sized and slightly out of date, leather boots and a tan newsboy cap. 2 sets of hand-stitched grey suits, child-sized and suitable for a funeral, and a magnificent silk top hat (though never as awesome as HIS...) 1 set of weatherproof face paints made from the fat of murderers-only vinegar or alcohol will remove it. 1 bandolier containing: 2 Tower Cavalry Flintlocks (1D6+1 damage, range 200ft, 1 shot apiece) powder horn and shot for ten reloads, a razor-sharp Butcher's blade (1D6 damage, cannot be accurately thrown) leather flask full of tea. 1 sturdy steel shovel (1D6 melee)
1 Radio Flyer wagon. Usually kept at Home-but good for carting extra kit on extended missions. Often filled with a First Aid Kit or two, a packet of dried meats and fruits, ropes and cord, whetstone, extra tea etc. 1 Three-Speed 1936 Schwinn bicycle, too big for him to ride. Will find someone deserving eventually (darn that pesky Save vs Plot for Good Deeds! )
Description: Miles Lahaine appears to be a scruffy, slightly underfed child of eight or perhaps nine, with watery blue eyes and ink-black hair cut with garden shears, wearing decent clothing that seems at least a decade out of date. After watching the child's expressionless face and listening to his soft, whispery voice discussing adult topics though, you may wonder just how long Miles has been eight or nine...
When Miles is On Call, the Orphan resembles a miniature Funeral Director dressed up for Halloween, with his face painted Day of the Dead-style ornate Skull motif-only instead of a bag for his Treats you see a sharp, sharp spade and-are those guns real? Why is he smiling like that? What did you do?
Issue Zero: Mister....Locke, isn't it? I thought that I recognized you....you run the New Dawn orphanage over on Station Street don't you? I'm surprised that you took the job to be honest, i've heard tales about that place...
Now to be fair, it was awhile back, maybe before you arrived. The place was called Morningside back then-oh, that long ago? Yeah, the place had a really bad rep back then, it was more of a Workhouse than an Orphanage...they'd rent out the kids to the factories, and if one of 'em came back missing some fingers they might put some carbolic on it, maybe a clean bandage, and hope you didn't die. Some of the men the kids got rented out to taught them how to unlock windows, climb down chimneys, pick pockets, and Lord help them if they got caught, can't tell the Bulls who you worked for if you were dead, right? The girls usually got the sewing factories, the match assembly plants, some sales jobs-regardless of where Morningside sent you though, the money always came back to the facility to be 'managed'. Kids got oat porridge while the Administrators dined on salmon and chicken...not a great place. Mind you, sometimes couples would stop by to adopt you, then you were home free...but Morningside didn't do a lot of due diligence when it came to assembling the new families, understand? Things didn't always turn out so well.
Now there's one tale I hear a lot out at the Playgrounds, about one of those Morningside kids...real Worst Case Scenario you might say. Single man in a fancy carriage, four horses, a driver, footman and a maid. Well-dressed guy, filled out some papers and away they went with some kid from the Irish precinct, where the O'Connors hold sway, um Miles somebody, folks both caught Typhoid...but hey, new home right?
Now the first red flag came up when Daddy Warbucks told his freshly-adopted son that his new name was 'Lamb'. Yeah, just Lamb. Who names their kid that? Well, the second flag came pretty quick when Lamb saw his new home-ten by ten cage in the basement surrounded by weird scribbles of some kind, curtain with a chamber pot, comfy chair-and that's it. Turns out that New Papa was one of those Occult wannabes, some Golden Dawn offshoot or something...and for three weeks, the children say, that poor kid got tied to that chair, bathed in oils-and watched other kids even younger than him get taken into that place. Those other kids? Never made it back out alive. And Rich Boy made the Irish kid watch. Every one. Until the Dark of the Moon.
I doubt that there was all that much left of Lamb by the time it was his turn-he was probably just hoping Jesus would take him by the hand when the knife went in and he could see his p-parents again....sorry, I get caught up in my own stories sometimes-what? Yeah that's blood, got an eye condition...anyway the kid didn't get his wish-for one thing, they used a garrote.Worse, the kill was total Amateur Hour, Daddy Big Bucks crushed the windpipe but didn't get all the blood vessels crimped, really didn't get the neck snapped, poor guy was lying in the circle making these raspy teakettle noises listening to these murderous loons calling for Baphomet to reward them with Templar treasure or something-imagine that, mansions and money and all the finer things in life, but no, gotta have more. And worst of all? Anybody who even cracked a few books, better yet a real spellslinger, could have told you that Baphomet wasn't the ruler of Wealth. The Father of Wealth, of all things buried under the Earth...is Dis Pater. Hades. Death. And guess who showed up to dinner with Lamb on the menu that night, with his tailored suit and his flawless silk hat, looking at the whole proceedings with...disgust. And then some dying kid twitches under his shoes and Papa Cemetery, he gets royally ticked off.
Bam, everybody dies, Daddy End Times looks at you and you keel over with a bum ticker, you drown in seawater, you contort and deform and burst, stab wounds or gunshot wounds show up, you burn, you freeze, you shred-it's like whatever was supposed to happen eventually-happens right now. And the rich thug who started the ball rolling? Gets his wish-and a multi-ton solid gold statue in the shape of a man crashes through the basement and is never seen again-maybe the Reaper wanted it for his garden, who knows? Just the Reaper and the Kid after that, and the former is holding this mason jar full of bright lights, forces it down Lamb's throat-and just like that the pain is gone, and our poor babe can close his eyes and wait for Jesus to take him to his folks.
When Miles wakes up though, Jesus isn't there...his head is cradled in black sand, his body floating in clear water, and surrounded by strange flabby phantoms spearing ghostly trilobites.Over the weeks the orphan kid explores the place full of empty houses-lots of stuff in them too, lots of canned or dried food, some of it pretty weird. Oh, and the whole place is brimming with monsters and crazy dog-priests and a golden king with no face...but they're all asleep and dreaming, waiting for some planetary configuration in the far future. Harmless phantoms and sleeping bogeymen and endless quiet...now our kid was baptized Catholic, picked up a little bit of the lore...no pain, not in Hell. No parents, no Jesus, not Heaven. So...Purgatory maybe? Everybody has sins, so maybe our boy just has to figure out what they are and pray for insight and one day Pearly Gates time, right?
Nothing happens for a very long, long looooong time. And finally this kid just says 'screw this' and runs, faster than he ever could before, and the air tears around him and he leaps off a headstone in Derry, Maine. Took awhile to get used to this new life, but i'm sure he figured it out eventually...crazy the weird tales kids can tell on a playground isn't it? But honestly, at this point you're probably wondering what this all has to do with you-more importantly, what is has to do with you dangling upside-down from a rafter while some kid talks your ear off with spooky stories? Let me spin you over to the window....pretty view, yes? Lake Hali in Dreaming Dead Carcosa. My villa-this room here-I use it for my Smokehouse. Good dry air from the stove, let's me dry all my fruits and meats in record time...
Listen you Filth...I went back to Lakefront City to put the Morningside Workhouse behind me-get on with my new life...you did figure out that I was the orphan child in our little tale, yes? But when I started talking to the kids there and keeping my eyes open...a lot of young girls are getting adopted lately, have you noticed? The older ones, becoming young women soon. The pretty ones. And it's the same couple doing the 'Adopting', every single Friday. New Dawn, new paint, same old rotten bloodstains on the walls-I stopped being Human in 1906, and nothing changed Locke, nothing at all. So can you think of any reason, any reason at all, that I shouldn't just butcher you right here, drain you out and stoke the stove with charcoal and mix up a glaze?
Oh yeah, forgot about the gag, see how worked up you've got me? But as angry as I am, as genuinely upset as you've got me-hold on, blood in my eyes again-I might, just maybe let you go. Tell me everything I want to know, no details left out, no excuses for your part in this, full confession....well, how many languages do you speak? Okay then. I get what I want, I mark you with a drop of my blood, just behind the ear-and i'll find a town far, far outside the US and drop you off. Just the clothes on your back and your wallet-and a fresh start. Change your name if you want, this one won't do you any good...the catch? Once I mark you, I can find you. Anywhere. I will visit you whenever I feel like it, six months, six years, twenty...and I will see you living a better life than this-otherwise? I have a recipe for Mu Shu i've wanted to try out, also some new Dry Rubs...tell you what, Locke-mind if I call you Jonas? You think about which part of the world you want while I get the proper edge back on this blade...and then you sing for me, right then?
(scraping noises)
Of course it isn't cannibalism, Jonas-that's when Humans eat other Humans...and it won't happen because you will talk. Now- What happens to the girls, Locke?
(more scraping sounds)
TALK TO ME NOW LOCKE THE KNIFE IS READY
* -And so we come to the close of another chilling episode of Tales of Unease, "The Unshriven ". Be sure to tune in tomorrow for our next Uneasy Episode-meanwhile, a word or two from today's sponsor, Underwood, known far and wide for a vast selection of potted meats. Be sure to try the award-winning Deviled Ham, the heavenly Shredded Chicken, the affordable Olive Loaf, not to mention the Condensed Chipped Beef-add toast and it's a meal! See you all tomorrow with our next installment, a riveting adaptation of Robert Howard's "Pigeons From Hell"... *
Editor's Notes: Yeah, I have some really crazy Nightmares on occasion.... . Honestly this guy is an infant's breath away from being a Mobster....but I could see him mellow out with a few 'Pacted' SCMs to talk him down off the ledge and out of the Oh dear God Fredrick Wertham Was Right!! territory...
System wise-made Miles' Background powerful but extremely limited (whereas it's normally the other way around). The Deity Origin is from the Big Bang Supplement V, left the mechanics as they were and added a few positive and negative 'Tweaks' for flavor-and if anything increased his Vulnerability since 'part of a Pantheon' would take the edge off of the lonely bitterness that currently fuels his Chaotic attitude. I could see Miles take a Level of Magic-User just for the Summons benefit-and then once he gets out of the "Joker Pointed in the Right Direction" mode and a bit more " Early Batman" mode, you could replace some of his more Extreme Hangups with "Why is my Summon Mobster Spell Stuck on the Zombie Setting?" Edit-that Tracking Ability was indeed overpowered. Standard Rules for Shadowing and Evasion should suffice, just with Mystic rather than Mundane modifiers...
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Post by order99 on Jun 1, 2023 7:10:22 GMT
Little Miss Nobody (Terri Gianna Ames, Unseen Meddler)
Origin: Half-Alien Class: Mysterywoman Level: 2 Alignment:Neutral
STR 11 AC 6/13, 5/14 in Costume HP 10 Attack: +0(+2 Special) Move 12
DEX 12 Save: 15 (+3 Poison, Missles, +1 Science, Plot)
CON 10
INT 12 Current Karma: 2 Current XP: 2500 Current Cash: $600
WIS 8
CHA 15 (+1)
Background: Unobtrusive-Terri's immersion in burning alien fuel left her able to confound the keenest of senses, whether human, beast or machine, +1 to Hide, Move Silently and Surprise checks.
Languages and Skills(2D6 K1): Terri speaks and writes flawless English. She is an accomplished author capable of changing styles at will, having already published two cookbooks and a Gothic novel under the alias 'T.G. Anderson', +1 to Skill Checks when applicable.
Hangups: Must...Focus...( assumed to be in 'stealth mode' if distracted, daydreaming or asleep) Big Eater (literally needs twice as much food as a healthy man to maintain her metabolism) Fire BAD (has flashbacks around large fires)
Origin Abilities: From Out of Nowhere (surprises on a 3+ on 1D6 counting Background Bonus) What am I Shooting At? (Save vs Plot to take harmful action against the target). These Abilities won't work if Terri deliberately suppresses them, but tend to activate when she's in danger anyway.
Class Abilities: Heightened Skills, Add Missle Save to AC, Metabolic Surge (3 Stunts per day) Didn't See It Coming (Signature Attack- those who miss their attacks against her due to her Invisibility).
Equipment
One Really Perfect Dress with Silk Slippers and pretty lapis-lazuli necklace, carefully stored away for the day her Powers are under control again Three changes of casual shirts, skirts, underwear etc and two pairs of sensible shoes and a single grey blazer
At least three pens and two notebooks for when inspiration hits A flawlessly maintained 1927 Underwood typewriter in sturdy case A 1925 Kodak Periscope camera with no attachments (yet) in waterproof case. Does not develop her own film yet... A pair of Brass Knuckles that her brother insisted on giving her (1D6-1 Melee) A Slingshot her Pa made her (Range 50 ft, 1D3 Damage with rocks marbles or ball bearings) will often use Gumballs for non-fatal mischief (1pt Damage)
Leather messenger bag, holds far more than a purse and is always full of 'Emergency Snacks'(jerky, nuts, raisins, crackers etc) Discount cards to half of the buffets in Lakefront city Little Miss Nobody's 'working duds'- sensible women's leather boots, brown wool pants, woven belt, sensible grey sweater, leather gloves, heavy navy blue coat of triple-silk/cotton blend, Aviator helmet minus the goggles, blue face covering (+1/-1 AC, Helmet Bonus)
Description: Terri Ames was a petite, brown-eyed and raven-haired gamine with high cheekbones, tanned skin and farmgirl muscle. Her recent exposure to burning chemicals however has lightened her skin, altered her eyes to a pale,watery blue and bleached her hair chlorine blonde and she hates it. When distracted, Terri fades away down the color spectrum to a Shade Not Of This World, along with her clothes and anything she can carry casually. She's really hoping to get this bit under better control...
Little Miss Nobody is a soft breeze wafting down a quiet alleyway. You didn't see nothin', Buddy. If she's Encumbered you'll see a blurry out-of-focus image of whatever she's carrying, and a pale, wispy shadow surrounding the load.
Issue Zero: Surprise Tiny! Guess who came to visit-
Oh. Oh Jimminy Crickets Sis, you really do look kinda like a guy in that form, Steve would freak-yeah Tiny, you locked the door, I just came in behind you and-
I'm right here Sis. Right in front of....Oh Crud. Okay. Listen Tina, i'm really in front of you. Just close your eyes and reach out...yeah, give me a minute to focus like Doc Webster taught me...Okay, open your eyes-No Tiny, I didn't dye my hair! It's....it's a long story sis-hey, mind if I raid your fridge?
Thank the Lord Above for pastrami on wheat with cheddar and heavy mayo...Mmmmm. Okay, this is gonna be a long story, so if I start to, uh, fade out again just let me know, and, um-if you like that grey lumpy form you're in that's okay too, I mean they're both you...
Let's start with the Bad News. If you had any fantasies about fixing your Spaceship and taking it out for a spin, i'd just forget about-
Yeah, we knew. Steve went down the old well when he was fifteen thinking he'd re-dig it and get some extra water...exactly, Pa told us it ran dry, but you know Stump, he just had to see. Besides, we always knew you were special-Jonah Webster can prattle on about 'hyper-glandular spasms' all he wants but you lifted Pa's tractor out of the ditch when you were fourteen and walked twenty paces before you pooped out, hun...anyway, Ma and Pa swore us all to secrecy, said the time wasn't right. So naturally they waited until you found out all by your lonesome and freaked out-suddenly everybody decided that maybe the Old Well wasn't such a good idea after all,heh.
Anyway, you don't just move Outer Space Junk in broad daylight where the neighbors would see, so Doc and the family waited until a nice, moonless night and grabbed the hoist, and everything was fine until the weather kicked up-the Almanac never predicted that thunderstorm and, well, big wet metal object under a clear sky-no surprise what happened next...only whatever fuel got you and that pod from Darlin' or wherever? Still some of it in there...BOOM, pieces of weird space junk all over, bet some hit the next county. And the F-fuh-fire, the-
Sorry, lost my concentration,just hold my hand Sis....okay. Okay. The fire was-invisible. You could see the weeds and the sorghum burn and feel the heat, but-no light, not the kind that we could see, and, and Ma could see me burning too, burning in nothing, and and and-
Sorry, needed another break. Anyway, Doc Webster came charging down those invisible fires like he was still a kid, knocks me into the thick wet clover and beats me out with his coat, I swear to Glory Tina if he wasn't older than Pa i'd have found a way to get that man down the aisle, I mean it-no, it was bad. Burned all over every inch bad.
We did call Sis, a dozen times-but you were doing that piece on the Pennsylvania Dutch migration over in that Amish community in Baker's Grove, and no way to reach you for two weeks. Just bad luck all around I guess-and by the time we did get in touch, things had just gotten too strange to talk about over a Public switchboard...burns like I had? They don't heal...ever. But these did. And the more I healed-the closer I got to the color of that burning fuel. Exactly. Missed a few meals at the hospital because of it too, and that almost did kill me-I can't gain any weight back and I eat like i'm having triplets! Doc thinks that my 'metabolic fevers' might slow down in a few months once my body finishes healing, changing...
Oh yeah Tiny, you ain't the only Ames with Powers anymore. I mean, i'm not tossing cars or outracing arrows or-the Gazette said that bullets went right through your body, didn't that hurt? Yeah, my memory's near-perfect now, I can speed-read, typing speed's faster than my machine can handle-and when I really put my mind to it? I can do things that Doc Webster says only Olympic athletes and college professors and virtuosos should be able to do-takes a lot out of me, but I can do it. Add my weird color-shifting, sound-deadening skin...not sure which of us is more alien at this point, right?
And that brings us to why i'm here. Our farm's gotten real gossipy since I got back. One thing to get burned, another thing completely for me to go into the Hospital looking like my Italian birth-ma and come back out looking, um, Danish I guess? So Pa thought maybe I should move up here-no not here, I just meant Lakefront in general. It's not like I can't make money any old place as long as I have my typewriter and a publishing house, i'll worry about the rest once I master this little 'fadeaway' problem of mine-and who knows, maybe i'll tag along a few nights and see the great Wax Man in action, who's gonna notice?
So listen, change back to that lanky farm girl body of yours and come on downstairs. Steve made reservations at this Italian Bistro-my treat! Yeah, the one at Palmer and Creighton-seriously, a Mafia hangout? Well how about putting the Vigilante bit on hold and let me try the Stromboli first...
Editor's Note: Behold, the first Official H&H Invisible Hero, BTB at Level 1 and up...or a 'close enough' version. The Origin Abilities are from Trophy Case 2.4, a Half-man Ability and a Half-pint Ability welded to a Mysteryman Skill set and Stunts should all but guarantee 'I was Never Here'...
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Post by Adminenkainen on Jun 2, 2023 19:16:33 GMT
If I read all these text pieces back-to-back, would they form a cohesive novel linked narrative?
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Post by order99 on Jun 3, 2023 0:36:43 GMT
Er...good question, actually. (gets out cork board, thumbtacks and string)
Let's see...just counting my own stuff? Lots of Mystic Powers/Origins floating around. Choir came back from the dead, the Damp Man is a M-U, Mister Tremolo likewise, Delphi and Apostate both spring from a miscast Ritual, Orphan likewise. With Apostate's Occult Background and 'mystic community' connections, I could see several of these folks meeting up for those '100 Page Spectaculars!' they used to market.
More disturbing is the fact that Death appears to be a bit of a bored meddler in my Origins, taking responsibility for both Mister Tremolo and Orphan-and though Jane Mishkin doesn't remember how or why, she too was definitely dead as a doornail at one point, so-Death Knocks Thrice?
Choir, Orphan, Wax Man and Little Miss Nobody are all orphans, Mister Tremolo was a grown man when he lost his but I guess that still counts? The Damp Man has uncles and cousins but he is currently Exiled/estranged from his-lotta broken and 'found family' themes here...
Wax Man is an alien, Little Miss Nobody and Alex Diamond are victims of what appear to be advanced alien tech, and who knows if Ben Tillinghast came up with Delirious' Spectacular D-Vest! on his own?
The laboratory raid that killed Alejandro Pedernal and gave birth to Alex Diamond smacks of Mafia, whoever Choir was before her return had a 'cement overshoes' burial at sea, Delirious is hip-deep in Mafia shenanigans...could all be different Mobs, but maybe not...
The references to Other Dimensions and Professor Tillinghast are a Lovecraft shout-out, as is Orphan's villa at Lake Hali in Dead and Dreaming Carcosa, while Damp Man's Origin lodges firmly between Innsmouth's Deep Ones and Poe's 'The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket' with a dash of H. P. Blavatsky's The Book of Dzyan tossed in. Rex the Gobbler Slayer is obviously a shout out to H.G. Wells' 'Food of the Gods' run through a 'How did Lassie get an entire TV show?' filter...
Just Noticed that Douglas Cash has 'Ames' as a middle name...coincidence? Or is he distantly related to Caleb and Evelyn Ames, that barren couple who adopted the baby of a young Italian War-widow, a full-blooded Chippewa kid whose folks caught the Spanish Flu...and a genuine From-Beyond-the-Stars blob of Alien Goo that wrapped around them and started purring? Could be that Apostate's Dad served in Caleb's unit in WWI, thought Ames just sounded nice for a middle name?
(checks cork board)
The facts speak for themselves i'm afraid-my Subconscious mind appears to be creating a Metaverse. Unclean, Unclean! Time to plug my Android brain into an Updated Anti-Virus and nip this thing in the bud-
Oh. Oh no...OH NO. Jackie Nimble, my one Outlier...Joanna Riordan got her 'Demi-speedster' Abilities cleaning up after Flash's Hard Water accident at Midwestern! And Tina Ames is a Durlan! Not only was I creating a Metaverse- I linked it directly to the DC one! What if Rex the Gobbler Slayer meets Detective Chimp and ends up in JLA Dark? Oh God what if Zack Snyder gets hold of them? Nobody deserves that....
(drenches cork board in gasoline and sets it on fire)
Nothing to see here, Folks, nothing to see here. Move Along....
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Post by order99 on Jun 8, 2023 6:47:54 GMT
Kid Meatshield (Ben Fletcher, Unsuspecting Pawn of his Father)
Origin: Android Class: Everyman Level: 3 Alignment: Neutral
STR 12
DEX 15(+1) AC 5/14, HP 13 Attack: +1 (+1 Missle) Move 12
CON 11 Save: 15, +3 vs Plot.
INT 13
WIS 10 Current Karma:3 Current XP: 2500 Current Cash: $1100
CHA 11
Background: Product of Mad Science-Ben's polymerized tendons and ligaments and muscles give him a +1 on all Athletic Skills such as Sprinting, Jumping, Climbing and Swimming, +1 to Grapples and a Soft Cover Bonus in combat from his boneless, erratic evasive maneuvers.
Languages and Skills(1D6): Ben speaks and writes perfect English. He can tear apart and put together any bicycle, car or tractor (+1 Mechanical) tinkers constantly with old radios and toasters and such (+1 Electronics) Reads medical texts for fun(+1 Effect from First Aid Kits) has every Boy Scout badge there is (+1 to Navigation and Survival) Hunts wild game with a camera (+1 Hide and Move Silently).
Hangups: Denial ain't just a River in Egypt (he has blocked out any memories of his Android Origin-his entire identity revolves around the fact he is Human) Doesn't like Doctors (the most casual of medical exams will reveal him as non-human, and his sub-conscious knows that) My Beloved Enemy (his Dad has an Evil side that can surface at any time).
Origin Abilities: Natural AC of 7/12 with Helmet Bonus, 45% resistance to disease, gas and poison, Notice High-tech and Androids on a 3+ on 1D6 (except the one in the mirror!) Internal Power-Get Tough 1/day, 1D2+3 Turns. Weaknesses: any intoxicants, deliriants, sedatives or alcohol that gets through his Resistance completely incapacitates him for 1D6 Turns. In addition he heals at half-normal speed, but a session with his 'portable blood cleaner '(artificial blood energizer) has him rarin' to go in record time. Any non-tech Skill Ben isn't practiced in takes a Non-human Skill Penalty (-1). Ben attributes his Abilities to a daily exercise regimen and clean living, and his Weaknesses to the mild organ and brain damage he must have suffered from his accident...
Class Abilities: Can wear up to a Bulletproof Vest (though ineffective) but limited to Simple Weapons. Extra Skills and can acquire more by skipping Ability Advancement (which Ben did). Faster advancement than other Classes.
Equipment
Portable tool kit, fits in a bicycle pannier Electronics kit, with fine precision tools, soldering iron and voltmeter Boy Scout Camping kit with cooking utensils, canteen and backpack 2 First Aid Kits 1934 Worksman delivery bike, three baskets on the back wheel and one up front, optimized for deliveries 1 "Portable Blood Filter", heavy and bulky as a car battery. Works off of household current, but can also run for up to 4 hours off a Nickel-Iron power supply 1 1934 Bell & Howell 16mm motion-picture camera, used. 2 rolls of quarters (+1 melee Damage if needed) but generally used to make change
If Ben is having an unbelievably bad day, he might find himself decked out in a copy of his old Kid Meatshield duds, armed with a Slingshot (range 50 ft, 1D3 damage with ball bearings) a pouch of a dozen ping-pong balls full of soot and red pepper (1 damage, effects as Tear Gas Pellet but for only 1D3 Combat Turns) two pouches of sharpened jacks to deter pursuit and a spool of sturdy twine to set up tripwires with-but surely that nightmare is far behind him...
Description: Ben Fletcher is a small but sturdy youth of Nineteen, green-eyed with dirty-blond short hair, clean shaven and an open, honest expression. His hands move over anything mechanical or electronic with the practiced grace of a concert pianist. He wears linen pants and cotton shirts with long sleeves while delivering newspapers, magazines, fixed radios, car parts etc, while at work in the garage/workshop he sports full-body grey coveralls. The long, numerous scars beneath his clothing-and the twin Dialysis ports on his left wrist-are nobody's business but his. Between his Fix-It shop, delivery work and various odd jobs, he easily pulls in as much money as any professional-for fun, Ben either buries his head in another book-he devours Correspondence Courses like some kids devour ice cream-or he spends some time in the Great Outdoors filming Wildlife and camping under the stars. His Dad lives less than twenty feet away in the Main House, and they breakfast together every day-he could be happy with this forever...
But in his nightmares Doctor Bright looms large and cruel, and dresses ten-year-old Ben in rubber-soled black boots, khaki pants and woven belt, bright blue silk shirt, powder-blue jacket with bright red target directly over the heart, 'KM' over the right breast, green bowler hat with half-cowl built in-and another red Bull-eye on that. But as long as Asa Fletcher takes his pills every morning, Ben doesn't need to worry...
Origin: Uuuhhh...hello? Who...is it? How long was I just standing here? Oh hey, I know you don't I? Yeah, Grey trench coat, black mask, red gloves... you are definitely the Crimson Fist. Haven't see you since I was ten, you were a lot taller then. Did I ever apologize for those Pepper Bombs to the face? Yeah that's right-i'm Ben Fletcher. Pleased to meet you again, Ma'am, despite the-
Why am I wearing blue? I hate blue, I never wear blue-and a hat? Not even in Church-
Bright you absolute (Bleeep) I will strangle you with this belt until yours eyes bulge out if I didn't think that Dad was still inside that skull I would (Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeep) until your screams could be heard in (Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep) and then I (Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep) and God Almighty would cover his face when I (Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep)!!!!!!!!!!
Okay. Okay. Sorry. Pardon my French. I don't usually-I didn't know I even knew half of those...it's this suit, I had nightmares about-no. No, my fault. I'll try not to do that again.
No really, i'm not dead. You're the second person tonight to tell me-yes, I know, I should be, I was there, you don't forget a sixty foot fall onto concrete...but the last thing I remember was Dad cradling my face, not a trace of Bright left in his. Then two years later Dad's holding my hand when I come out of the coma...guess he had somebody taking care of me while they got his head sorted out. Yeah, lost two years, stunted my growth, but-we had Asa Fletcher back. I'd take that fall again if...
I take it you got his letter, Ma'am? Exactly, drug tolerance-he didn't stop taking them, not even once. But they don't work anymore. I've been casing his old haunts, thought if I found him maybe I could talk him off of the ledge as it were-nope, didn't work. Some metal Art Deco projects grabbed me, next thing I know that sadist Bright stuck me full of his Crazy Juice and told me to 'go start repairing the Defenses'...
Joke's on him, that Bug Juice doesn't work on me anymore-well, not the right way that is. I mean, my kidneys and liver and pancreas took some catastrophic damage and I don't think they'll ever be at 100%, Dad gave me a beer when I hit 18 and I lost two hours that day, no kidding...so instead of getting all docile on Happy Serum I guess I just...blacked out and wandered around? Better than getting to be blasted 'Kid Meatshield' again...so, are we expecting any reinforcements?
No Ma'am Miss Fist, I can't stay out. I know these tunnels as well as Bright ever did, and the only good thing about this stupid outfit is that those rolling metal minions are ignoring me now...let's see-pepper bombs? I'd like to put a few of these up Bright's nose. Belt buckle would make good knuckle-duster but then my pants would fall down...wait a minute. He sent to repair his-yes, toolbox! And a wrench big enough for a 2-inch bolt, plenty of heft, could do some real damage...we're right next to the Generators, let me toss some sawdust in those tanks and snip a few wires, then it's your plan.
And...if we can't cure him again? I know for a fact what my Dad would want us to do....put Bright down like a mad dog. Ready when you are Miss Fist...
Editor's Notes: The Everyman Class is one that I rolled up for those Rick Jones/Snapper Carr/Henry Jekyll types:
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Post by order99 on Jun 12, 2023 11:37:34 GMT
Jude 'The Obscure'- Jude Maunder, eternal busybody
Origin: Half-human Accursed Class: Conduit Apostle Level: 2 Alignment: Lawful
STR 9 AC 7/12 HP 9 Attack: +0 Move 12 DEX 10 Save: 16 (+3 Poison, Spells, +1 Missles, Plot)
CON 11
INT 11 Current Karma: 2 Current XP: 2500 Current Funds: $1300
WIS 15(+1) CHA 12
Background: Doomed to Live- Jude is ageless and effectively immortal, and must shoulder his Legacy until the End Times. If he dies by violence, simply use the normal rules for 'Allowing for a Successor'(H&H V2.2 Page 30) except that Jude is his own SCM and cannot foist his burden onto a Sidekick. Once completely deceased Jude will re-appear at a location of the Editor's Choice in 1D6 days and take a -10% to Current XP. As a side effect, Jude has a rudimentary grasp of every spoken and written language he has been exposed to-no Save vs Plot needed for basic ideas such as "hungry, how many coins for burger?" A month immersed in a new culture will let him speak and write as a Native but his previous 'known' language will deteriorate.
Languages and Skills(1D6): Jude has a current mastery of English (see Background) but will never forget his native Aramaic dialect-many scholars of Antiquity consult him on the subject. He turns up in the strangest places, leaning over your shoulder for a better view (+1 Surprise Checks).
Hangups: Tired of War (will use violence as a last resort, not a first) I Am Needed Here (will follow obvious Plot Hooks even when he suspects a trap-what's the worst that could happen, he dies?) Talking is a Free Action (will strike up friendly conversations with Bad Guys trying to kill him, trade recipes with fellow heroes while Escaping the Deathtrap or Fighting the Forest Fire etc). Magically Delicious (his blood is a potent component in Ritual Sacrifice...He's been gutted like a Goat twice this decade...Feh! )
Origin Abilities: What is pain to me? (ignores non-fatal wounds, as the bleeding stops quickly(AC 7, Helmet Bonus) My Card (if anyone carrying one of Jude's Cursed Coins is in extreme distress, he can appear where they are (usable 1/Day at most).
Class Abilities: Jude has a current Pool of 3 Mana. Occult Dabbler-Jude can cast the following Spells at a Cost of 1 Mana: Charm Person, Cure Light Wounds, Detect Magic, Disguise, Read Languages and Magic, Pass Without Trace, Protection From Evil. In Touch With the Universe- Jude may spend 1 Mana to trigger a Save vs.Plot at will, usually through a complex Ritual involving expensive Cinnibar dust being cast into the breeze(+2 to Save). Knack-Trading Favors, may spend 1 Mana in order to recruit a Temporary SCM as a Stunt. Mana Fountain-may add to another M-U's Spell Ability, Range of Touch. For purposes of using Scrolls, Wands and other Trophies Jude is considered a M-U, but if defeated in a Contest of Wills may not use any Class Abilities for 1D6 Turns. May wear a Costume if he chooses (useless in his case) but limited to Simple Weaponry.
Equipment
Several sets of linen suits, sensible shoes woven linen belt and fashionable straw boater or felt fedora A bronze Sicari knife he almost never unsheathes-a remnant of his Judean heritage (1D6-1)
A small, modest bungalow at 115 Palm Boulevard with reclining couches, well-stocked kitchen and tea service Several pouches of handmade sesame cakes for snacking and gifts and a Thermos of Chai with milk
Pouches of bird seed for any time, any park or city bench A small pouch of red cinnibar for divination and Rituals Several maps of Lakefront city filled with tiny notations in Aramaic
The Cursed Coins-30 dime-sized Tyrian Shekels arranged on a leather thong. No sane man will ever accept these as currency-there is an undeniable aura of corruption and unwholesomeness about them, even animals shy away from them. Jude may lend them to those who may need him, but he cannot throw them away-always they return. Even the Dead are repulsed by them (treat as Holy Symbol)
Description: A man of average build and Mediterranean complexion, short black hair, almond eyes and clean-shaven since the Great War made beards unfashionable. Jude appears neither young or old but his expression speaks of competence and experience. He dresses in cream-colored linen suits and matching hats these days, good leather walking shoes.
This new breed of Masked Vigilantes and Secret Identities amuses him. He will not wear a mask and will act as himself always-at least for another few decades, then he will change his name again and go where the will of G_d leads him. In reality, he is older than the Orthodox Church and has had more names than a City's worth of inhabitants-and has picked up a few tricks on the way to Now...he remembers being both more and less powerful than he is today and knows more ways to die than an army of Coroners...
Issue Zero: The day after Sabbath, Jude feeds the birds at Lakefront Plaza near the Court House-the birds have grown fat and tame from his feedings and many failed to migrate South this year. After a lunch of sweet balsamic vinegar on ripe tomato slices and chewy bread, Jude wanders where the wind will take him, sometimes allowing pinches of a red dust to escape his fingertips into the wind, takes notes, mutters...mid-afternoon finds him at Mama Belano's Tea House, and Jude engages owner Mia Belano in small talk as they sample Turkish Coffee and sweet cakes. Before he leaves, Mia slips an envelope full of bills in his coat, his 10% of the profits as her Silent Partner and co-founder. Jude doesn't count it, has never checked her book-keeping, never will. He makes sure to deposit most of it at the Lakefront Trust Bank before going home.
It is Monday, and Jude waits until the luxury sedan passes him before throwing the baseball, hard as he can, through the back glass-the sedan skids to a stop and the driver exits the vehicle, looking around and swearing the sky blue...until he sees the woman kneeling less than a foot from the Buick's grill. Jude helps the woman to her feet, speaks to the driver, points to a nearby lot and mentions grandchildren that do not truly exist, offers twice the money needed for repairs...the driver, pale and trembling with thoughts of his near-homicide, nods agreements and pulls cautiously away.
The woman, Carol Lear, is not brave enough to attempt self-harm again. She sits, slumped by Jude in despair and awaits her fate. Within the hour a broad-shouldered Italian man looms near-but before he can address the woman Jude slides an envelope into the man's hand. Tell Anthony Tolino, remarks the tanned man, that Jude Maunder has purchased the woman's debt. Tell him also to remember that his brother Francis is still free from Heroin-and that the Book he seeks bears a horrible curse, better to let O'Connor have the burden of it. Also, you may need me later this week, take this token to show that you have my protection.
Gianni Torrio has never met this man before-but he's heard some stories. He takes the envelope and the ancient coin and departs, shaking his head...it takes a long afternoon at a local Ice Cream parlor over caramel Gelatos before Carol Lear finally understands that she has, indeed, been redeemed-and that all Jude insists upon as payment is a promise to 'keep an eye out for those you might be able to help'. The visible return of life into once lifeless eyes is as beautiful as the Sunrise, and Jude is content...
Tuesday sees Jude consulting his maps, riding the tram from one end of Lakefront to the other, casting pinches of powder to the breeze and making notes. Lunch finds him at Riadanos Imports, and Carlo Riadonos and his wife Leah treat him to bread fried in olive oil, black olives and feta cheese as barrels of oil and wine and Anise liquors cool in the cellar. They too have an envelope for him, and again Jude doesn't bother counting it. Business has never been better, husband and wife each sport a few silver hairs now and their guest feels a twinge of envy-but then Maryam comes home from school, slim and carefree and nearly a woman...and Jude feels a chill in his blood. Carefully, he reads the girl's palm, her face, drips oil and powders on the table-and slips an antique shekel in her sleeve. The Riadonos have also heard rumors of their Investor-and the mood as he leaves is not so bright as before.
Wednesday Jude goes to Temple, catching bits of Yiddish in the crowd and Hebrew as the Rabbi reads the Torah Scrolls. Aaron Silvermann catches his eye in the crowd, shining bright as a star to those who can see things-the angel Azrael has touched him. Jude makes a note to meet the man later next week. Other than that, a quiet day with no surprises, a soft bed at the end of the-
-he had done a horrible thing, an unforgivable thing, he loops the rope about his neck and leaps, feels his spine snap, waits for the unquenchable, eternal agony...but he is still behind his own eyes, and he opens them to find Azrael standing before him, resplendent in a silk turban the envy of any Shah, a veil to hide his gaze from a fragile world-but the Angel of Death only shakes his head. The Adversary is there too, a shining witness to the man's crimes. But they take him down, heal his broken neck, the Bright One counts the Blood Money out onto a thong and the condemned man screams and screams-
Jude awoke from the dream, his hands...itched. The man reached out for the Coin, stepped across space and-a dark alleyway, two bullets bury themselves in his shoulder and his left ear, easily ignored. He crouched over the man-yes, Mister Torrio, heart fluttering and a Death Rattle in his lungs. The attackers crouched as Jude took the heavy pistol from Torrio's hand-only to see him empty the magazine into the night air and toss it contemptuously to the tarmac. As O'Connor's men neared cautiously, the dark man placed his left hand over Torrio's face, made a fist of his right-opened it and bullets and blood fell to the pavement. The lads were Irish Catholic and knew a Miracle when they saw it, there would be no fighting now...the Book, of course, that Cursed BOOK, Liam O'Connor had thought to heal his son's burns with magic, blames Tolino for ...trapping the tome somehow when his amateur fumblings go awry. Stifling a yawn, Jude demands transport to the O'Connor place, dressing gown and pajamas be hanged...
Thursday he slept in, and no crisis bothered him. Young Cassady's burns were too old and entrenched to be pulled from his flesh-it was a matter for money and doctors rather than magic, and Liam had agreed to cast that accursed Des Vermis Something or Other into the fireplace...Friday was quiet, the Families had re-established the Truce in mutual embarrassment. Jude ate candied cashews and fed the birds some seed, decided to front Kelli Malone $200 to get the girl off the streets with that flimsy cart and into a decent Greenhouse, the usual terms of repayment at no interest, 10% of the profits as a Partner afterwards...but as the Bank Officer signed the papers the peace of the day shattered as Leah Riadonos entered the Trust wailing, for Maryam had not returned from School. Jude ignored Subtlety this once and stepped away in full view of witness, reputation be d____d, and entered a small dingy room with the girl trussed up like a Christmas Goose-and a gun pointed at his face.
Not that it mattered, for once the broad-shouldered man looked directly in Jude's eyes he was caught. Zachery Clement wasn't about to shoot a friend just because he was startled, and put the pistol away as his buddy explained just how much trouble he'd stepped in. The Families-Tolino, O'Connor, Ibarra, Meyer-none of them permitted the abuse of children in Lakefront. Jude recommended the nearest bus station-and placed an entire string of antique silver coins in his coat, a stake to get him started in 'Frisco, good weather there...and when the kidnapper left, greed and fear warring in his magic-befuddled brain, Jude flagged a cab and headed to the nearest phone...
The thirty silver shekels were on his mantelpiece when the exhausted man arrived home, dripping with blood. Clement had been spotted at the Bus Station-and hadn't made it out alive. As the Sabbath neared that night Jude fasted and prayed, kindled no flame and hoped that the Ox wouldn't be in the Ditch tomorrow...but the the morning arrived and Jude was allowed to Rest, really Rest, cold and stiff and unseeing and unfeeling until the next morn as his spirit played a losing game of Shah with Azrael, turban and veil exchanged for Top hat and glasses...
Editor's Notes: The Conduit is one of my Homebrew Classes, a versatile but low-powered Wild Mage type. Also, i've noticed recently that the Half Human Origin can take some really weird bounces when you throw in the Trophy Case and Big Bang Sourcebook Races...BTW Jude is not your typical Superhero or Adventurer, he'll stoop to it if he has to but really he's more of a Good Deeds factory...
Also, just re-read my Post for Spelling and when the friggen' heck did I start writing Novellas? Paging Victor Hugo...
In addition, I expected Immortality to be a real Game-breaker, but, Rules As Written? More of an accent, really...
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Post by order99 on Jul 3, 2023 7:03:26 GMT
The Hook (Wendy Stiles, Hunter of the Dead)
Origin: Half-Man Dhampir Class: Fighter Level:2 Alignment: Lawful
STR 16(+1) AC 7/12, 6/13 with Bracers HP 11 Attack +1(+1 Melee) Move 12
DEX 12 Save 16 (+3 Missles, Poison, +1 Science, Plot)
CON 13
INT 11 Current Karma:1 Current XP: 2500 Current Cash: $700
WIS 10
CHA 8
Background: Dhampir-Wendy's ordeal has left her a perfect night-adapted predator, +1 to Sprint, jump and Surprise checks, and while unable to see in total darkness takes no penalties for dim light, she can spot her prey with only a handful of fireflies to see by. On the downside though, any environment brighter than a cloudy day is now an Alien Environment to her, and her altered digestion is limited to liquids only.
Languages and Skills(1D6): Wendy is fluent in her native English. She can sing the Blues to make the Devil Himself weep (+1 Music).
Hangups: Just Another Junkie (not really-but she's thin, twitchy, hates the sun and doesn't bother with makeup, Penalty Dice on Reactions) Facing Damnation (she's terrified of turning into an Undead Horror when she dies) Alone (her parents disowned her after she went missing).
Origin Abilities: Missed the Heart, AC 7/12 and Helmet Bonus. Glider, Fall up to 36 ft without injury, leap the same.
Class Abilities: May wear any Armor and use any Weapon. May use Guns without penalty. Gets two attacks per Combat Turn against Mobsters of less than 1HD.
Equipment
One small hovel at the corner of Hangman and Rhodes On the Other Side of the Tracks, ugly but cozy. Small gas-powered fridge, camping stove, used furniture, hammock instead of a bed. Boarded up windows and sturdy locks. Nobody bothers her there-not anymore. Four changes of plain clothing, cotton shirts, sturdy linen skirts, sensible flat leather shoes and a man's Newsboy cap
Three sets of stained, thick,layered cotton coveralls for work Two sets of dark, dark glasses
One scuffed but serviceable 1908 Gretch Romance Guitar and battered case One 1927 Sears single-speed bicycle with rear basket, lunchbox and two Aladdin Thermos full of bone broth or vegetable juice The Hook's Working Clothes-sturdy trousers, leather boots and belt, plain linen shirt and leather gloves, crudely-stitched-together gunnysack mask dyed crimson, long crimson 'cassock' and hood made from potato sacks, hiding sturdy bracers of boiled leather and thin steel strips covering wrist to forearm(+1 Soft Cover Bonus) Cheap Revolver (1D6 Damage, 250 ft Range) and a box of 24 hand-crafted silver bullets in one pocket, box of 24 regular bullets in the other Big Scary Meat Hook plated in silver (1D6 Damage) Rosary (Holy Symbol) Two vials Holy Water, sewn into The Hook's belt lining.
Description: Wendy Stiles was once considered beautiful, with smiling green eyes, blond tresses, curves in all the right places and a bubbly, infectious smile. Not anymore. The new Wendy is lean and thin as a winter wolf, corded with ropes of muscle beneath her skin and her lank, dirty-blond hair is hacked off at the neck for work. Her white, white teeth are sometimes bared but seldom in a smile, and her green eyes by day show pinpricks for pupils, and fully dilate in the dark. She doesn't dress up like she used to-but she makes sure that the old bite marks on her left collarbone are covered at all times.
When On the Hunt, The Hook looks like a member of the Crazy Quilt Inquisition, moves like a leaf on the wind and easily hefts muscular dockworkers over her head one-handed, and deflects crowbars with her arms. Her smile is terrifying and her eyes could swallow you whole.
Issue Zero: It appeared to be a young boy dressed in rags.It said that he was looking for his Mommy. You never stood a chance. You bent down to wipe a boy's face-and a dozen small cold bodies flung themselves upon you, muffled your screams, carried you across the rooftops-
The Moon was large, full and beautiful. It would be three months before you would see it again.
The Children had been dead for a long, long time. It made them smile, nod, move, dance, hunt-but they didn't breathe or blink and when It wasn't concentrating they stood rigid and still. It hadn't been looking for his Mommy-It had been looking for a new Mommy. You didn't dare ask the cold, stinking wretch what had happened to the others.
It called himself Piet. It led the Children in nightly revels, caught cats and rats and...drank them like bottles of pop. They harassed the homeless and the junkies and the winos, called them Red Men or Bandits, tormented them. Killed them. Sometimes they flew you to a nearby rooftop and made you watch. Once you learn to be happy like us, It had said, You can fly too. And you won't need the chains anymore.
Sometimes, when Hunting was scarce, Piet went to you-because Mommies were supposed to feed their children. Long after you ceased to feel the pain, the wet, crunching noises would haunt you. It wasn't like the movies, tiny harmless pinpricks...
You would ask It for food and water sometimes. It argued that only Old People ate that garbage-but when you mentioned that Mommies lasted so much longer when they ate Old People food, Piet gave in. Most of the food came from garbage cans, you dared some of the fresher-looking bits...sometimes you payed the price. but the milk-stolen
from porches just before Dawn, those were always fresh. The milk kept you alive, though you grew ever thinner...
One night, long after Midnight but not even close to Dawn, you awoke to the sound of boots destroying a door, and you dared hope. Small cold bodies flung themselves at burly men wearing badges, and the Police kept treating them like the children they hadn't been in a long, long time-until they started getting bitten, then the truncheons came out but it took forever to put them down and they kept smiling. Then a stout man in a Priest's collar held up a Rosary as if it were the Head of Medusa-and It screamed in pain and couldn't fly and scrambled away like any child, and only Piet and one other escaped, leaving 5 others behind, dead at last and already beginning to rot.
The burly man held that rosary up to your face too, splashed salty water on you and screamed at you in Latin-but you snatched that rosary out of his hand and refused to let it go, and only then did the stout man see the chains and hear your breathing. They carted you out on a gurney and the bright, terrible sun blasted your vision like a burning building and you screamed and screamed...
Later you realized that it was still dark, and you had been nearly blinded by the Full Moon. The sun would later prove to be much, much worse.
Two months in a Catholic Hospital, and the day still made you dizzy and solid food hit your belly like broken glass, but little by little you regained your strength on bone broth and vegetable juices and thick, sweet cream...you met the stout priest from the night of your rescue, Father Mike Coughlin-and he wouldn't let you give the rosary back. Neither of your parents had been to see you since your kidnapping-and when you were finally well enough to knock on their door, close enough to Evening that you barely needed to squint...they called you a whore to your face and slammed the door shut. Your parents, it seemed, would rather believe the rumors than the Offical Police Report.
Nobody needed you back at the Typing Pool, not nights at least-and the only reliable Night Shifts were at the Lakefront Packing facility. Nobody thought a skinny gal like you would last the night-but you lasted the night, the week, the month...that second month a side of beef slid off a badly-set hook and nearly brained the Foreman but you reached for it instinctively, held it for a full minute while new hooks were set and braced. That slab of beef had topped over seven hundred pounds. Nobody laughed at you ever again-and you got your first raise.
Six months after your kidnapping, you were wrapping old bones to take home for broth-perk of the job-when you saw the article about the missing child. You braved the next day for Sunday Mass, eyes armored behind smoked glass, to see Father Coughlin again and tell him your plans-he took you to an old Hungarian Gunsmith who didn't laugh at the Old Tales. You gave him all of your old silverware and he in turn gave you what you wanted. And you sewed yourself a disguise, crude but sturdy and perhaps even a little theatrical. You thought about It, Piet, old and long-dead with a rotten brain like a broken record, trapped in a Fairy Tale, looking for bandits and pirates to fight, slowly rebuilding It's followers...
Death, you promise Piet, will indeed be a Grand Adventure. And with your Happy Thought in your mind at last, you leap to the air in flight, ready to play Pirates...
Editor's Notes: I honestly considered just portraying Wendy's Day Blindness and Liquid Diet as Hangups-but decided they were too intrinsic to the character so I sandwiched it in with her Background instead along with a minor not-quite-a-power. Honestly, this optional Background rule could cover a lot of minor Boons and Banes, as long as the overall package remains at rough parity with itself...
Also, if my Players and I ever get back into Gaming, and Piet dies the True Death in 1887 or so...feh, Dracula lost count of his 'deaths' eons ago...
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