Dark DestinyFrank MorrisonFrank decided to take the man at face value and ripped one of his oboli into quarters, then handed one of the quarters over. He waited for a moment to see if that was correct, and if it was, he would then pass through the door and inspect the crowd for his quarry.
Fishing into the deep pockets of your trenchcoat you bring out one of the coins that Rodgers gave you, slightly skeptical you tear it along the middle. Curiously the metal parts with only a little effort, making a slight wailing sound as it does so. Raising an eyebrow at the coins your rip them in half again and hand one of the quarters to the bouncer. He inspects the torn piece and grunts, satisfied with its size he steps aside and lets you open the door. The outer door is light and swings easily but only leads to a small square room the size of a cell with another door at the other end, with nowhere else to go you open it. This one however has weight to it, the kind of firm solidity that comes from an object meant to block sound and intrusion. This instant you get it open even a crack noise and light assails you.
The club is smoky and smells of everything you could imagine, lights of every color you've ever seen and a few besides crackle through the air without apparent source or origin, and the music... my god. [Will: Fair success Vs keening: Complete success, Will save failed.] The music is like nothing you've heard, between instrument and voice it is as much emotion as sound. Lust and anger, panic and joy leap inside your chest as the music pounds away at you, eroding rational thought with every staccato beat and lilting note. (Confused: Perceptions altered, -1 success to most rolls. You may spend a point of will to end this effect.)
Stumbling forwards almost against your will you finally take note of the people sitting and standing in the clubs every corner, angels and demons, picasso works of twisted flesh and people so beautiful that merely looking at them takes your breath away fill the place. Tearing your eyes away the people you make the mistake of looking at one of the performers as she walks on stage.
She's achingly beautiful, but far more human than any of the figures seated around the main stage could hope to be, she's also naked as the day she was born. The beat and rhythm change into something else as she walks on stage, and you can't even try to look away as she dances. The lithe form of flashing silver nails, jet black hair, and moon-pale skin is an odd comfort in the lands of the dead, she's something that's still the same whichever side of dead you're on. As you watch her dance you become aware of words to the pulsing music, set carefully in time with the steps of the nymph it scratches at the back of your mind... something subtly wrong that makes you feel scarred and cold inside.
"He listen'd and look'd- it was only the cat;
but the bishop he grew more fearful for that,
for she say screaming, mad with fear,
At the army of rats that were drawing near."
The flashing metallic nails of the dancer flash suddenly, cutting lightly across the skin below the breasts and down to the point of the hip, repeating the motion on the opposite side of her body with a lightning whirl. In horror you watch as the pale skin gapes, showing a promise of the muscle beneath.
"For they have swum over the river so deep,
and they have climb'd the shores so steep,
and now by the thousands up they crawl,
To the holes and the windows in the wall.""
The dancer's nails continue to cut, her face a mask of pain and ecstasy as the razors nails trace thin lines across her naked body. You shudder as revulsion threatens expel whatever inhabits your spiritual stomach... All around you can feel the charged excitement of the crowd, and god help you that music is keeping you from looking away from this abomination.
"Down on his knees the bishop fell,
and faster and faster his beads did tell,
as louder and louder, drawing near,
The saw of their teeth without he could hear."
Almost delicately the dancer whirls and pulls, freeing skin from muscle down her ribs on one side. The rippling muscle is exposed to the air as the dance continues, its rhythm moving towards a climax as she continues to peel the skin from her body... A pale ballet dress of blood dappled skin begins to adorn her as she cuts and pulls for the audience's pleasure, muscle and points of bright white bone shine through from her once beautiful form.
"And in at the windows, and in at the door,
And through the walls by thousands they pour;
And down from the ceiling and up through the floor,
From the right and the left, from behind and before,
From within and without, from above and below,
And all at once to the Bishop they go."
The dancer's fluid steps accelerate through a quickening patter of impossibly complex steps as smooth red flecked sheets of pale skin float behind, she leaving them to flutter through the air as she cuts them each free in turn. All of her muscle exposed to the light now, writhing and red as the nymph's dance moves through it's final moves. As the music crescendo's her hands quicken to her throat, setting bright serpents of red to flow wherever they touch.
"They have whetted their teeth against the stones,
and now they pick at the bishop's bones;
they gnaw'd the flesh from every limb,
For they were sent to do judgment on him."
The lights in the club darken to nothing and the music drops to a low and resonant throb, the dancer kneels with arms and head back as blood flows from the smooth lines in her neck. Without the light to show the desecration of her form she seems beautiful and untouched in death. After a long still moment the ethereal lights return and the dancer rises from the stage, her macabre form bouncing up to grin impishly at the crowd. The applause is deafening and the sheer tidal wave of pleasure and lust that you can feel from the men and women surrounding you threatens to suck you under. As she walks off stage you finally find yourself able to look away. [Will: complete success] you manage to not fall to your knees as you retch silently, sucking in deep and probably unnecessary breaths as you try to sort out your mind. The insidious music is still there, digging tendrils into you brain and giving you feelings you ought not to be having after seeing that... show. [Appearance+Subterfuge: Botch!] Much as you try to hide it you stand out like a sore thumb in the club in your current state. [Attention type: Benevolent. Helpfulness: Hidden] You barely even see that red-skinned devil of a man come up to your shoulder and place a firm hand at your back and lead you to a table, the way you are right now you'd be pretty hard pressed to resist him.
The table the devil faced man leads you has one other occupant, a jet black man in a black suit. The man's skin seems to (impossibly) exude darkness, making his exact features very hard to pin down, except for his eyes.... his eyes are entirely white, bright white light like holes into the sun. He smiles at you with a flash of equally white teeth. As you sit he motions for a waitress and orders a drink for you, then he turns to face back to you with a smile.
"Do pardon my intrusion to your solitude, but you seem new here... Not enjoying the show?"Daniel BlackwellKeep heading to Mr. Rodger's place. Pace myself this time.
[Stamina+End: Meager Success] Moving a bit more slowly you start off again. [int+Subterfuge: Complete Success] No one stops you as you jog through the streets of the hulled out and refilled burned buildings, and though the iron fence stops you a couple times you're able to find your way back on track for the most part.
After several minutes of pretty decent jogging you come to the address you were given, despite knowing that Mr. Rodgers was a fairly important guy his home is still very impressive. It reaches up four stories and seems to be a refurbished court house, marble pillars and heavy blocks of striated stone front its massive doors and a latin inscription across the top reads,
"Nic opprimere, Nic opprimi". Somewhat hesitant you step up to the huge doors and slam the knocker down resonantly into the oak of the door. There is silence for a moment and you get a sense that a couple people on the street behind you have turned to look at you curiously, probably wondering why a man in such shambles as yourself is calling on the obviously important owner of this house.
The door creaks open eventually to show a broad woman wearing body armor. She looks about seventy but that fact is cleverly balanced out by the cannon of a revolver she's holding in her bony hands.
"Who the blazing hell are you and what in damnation do you want?" Her voice is clear and fierce for an old woman, and just judging by her general manner you'd say her irritation is more of a general thing rather than something personally directed at you.
"I... err... I met Mr. Rodgers earlier and he said to come her if a I needed work or more information." You say, attempting to convince the old biddy not to shoot you immediately.
"And which do you want boy, information or work?"You pause for a moment to consider the question before answering.
"Bit of both I suppose.""Good, 'cause you damn well aren't getting any information without work." She steps away from the door and gestures you impatiently in.
"Come on now boy, we aint gettin' any less dead, so move it before I blow your pert little ass cheeks off."Not wanting to upset the geriatric gun-woman you go inside before she slams the heavy doors behind you. Your initial impression seems to be good, the entire thing looks like a courthouse that someone suddenly decided to redecorate. You have to admit though, they did a good job. The older woman leads you up the mains stairs then up another flight of stares, across one floor, and then the hale old nag climbs yet another spiral staircase onto the third floor. She leads you up to immediately outside one door and listens for a moment, [perception+Alertness=Complete Success] you follow suit, though as unobtrusively as you can.
"You know the price for protecting Heretics, we have twenty cohorts ready to storm through every hole and home with barrowflame and sword to pull this hellbound menace out... We could lay this precious city of yours low with the effort of bringing a dog to heel." This first voice is attempting to be cruel and menacing but you detect undercurrents of frustration.
"Yes you could, and then the renegades, the heretics, the newfolk, and the simply disinclined would rise up against you and melt you down to make hinges. This is a neutral city, I am neutral. We pay our tithe to you, and you pay a small price back so that you can keep your precious cohorts garrisoned here." You recognize the second speaker as Mr. Rodgers, though his voice has an edge that you hadn't heard before.
"The dreadlords are not pleased with your current stance, sitting on the wall is dangerous. One day you will fall, and the dreadlords will be there to-" The voice cuts off as you hear something slam heavily into the table.
"Do not talk to me about what the dreadlords want, I was there when they were appointed, I saw charon's face before the mask was made. Tell your dreadlords that if they do not relent I will increase that tax on their stronghold by half again. This meeting is concluded."At that exact moment the old woman knocks on the door respectfully and Mr. Rodgers' voice floats out immediately.
"Who is it?""It's Sarah, sir. I have a guest who says he's here to see a Mr. Rodgers.""Ah, send him in immediately and I'll straighten him out. I was just concluding a meeting with our Hierarchy friends."Sarah opens the door and a tall man in medieval armor storms out, pushing her out the way as he goes. Sarah grimaces and says a few things that old women are not expected to say, then she pushes you into the room. It seems to be a refitted study, books and odd objects are placed strategically about the room to create a lived in effect. Mr. Rodgers himself seats behind a large desk with his fingers laced.
"Ah yes of course.... It's much too early for you to possibly be able to pay your debt back, so are you here for work or something else?" Raymond ConnorIf it's possible, dodge sideways. Or upwards if there's a ladder or something nearby. Else, apply this.
[Dex+Dodge=Complete success Vs Dex+melee Great success] [Damage: Fair (1 standard 1 aggravated)] You leap skillfully out of the way, but the dark beast is faster than would seems possibly for its size and one of the jagged arms catches you and smashes you aside even as you escape the main of its vast bulk.
Reeling you stagger away and fire your pistol at it reflexively [Dex+Firearms: Fair success (Difficulty 7-1 close range) Vs Dex+dodge: Meager success] [Damage: Fair (2 standard)] It yells at you in a mildly irritated fashion before turning around to bludgeon you into the ground. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
[Str+moliate: Incredible Success. Damage is devastating: 12 points of aggravated corpus damage inflicted.] Just as you're about to start screaming like a little girl about to be ripped into tiny pieces by a giant shadowy monstrosity a voice speaks behind you.
"Enough. Depart fiend and trouble these paths no longer." Then the part of the shadow thing's body nearest you explodes into a fountain of dark gore, ectoplasm spatters everything around you as some unseen force rends the thing into pieces. Yelling in surprise you hurry backwards from the thrashing body of your former assailant, it isn't dead, but it sure as hell isn't in a mood to fight anymore. It makes an ungodly noise as it lurches away, trailing black ooze all the while. You watch it leave with your pistol raised somewhat shakily, then you turned back to the one who saved you.
He stands about an inch shorter than yourself, but he holds a long pole about 8 feet tall and you could have sworn he wasn't there before. Everything except for his hands and tanned face is covered in a functional looking brown cloak. For now he seems content to watch you.
Jhon HarleyWell let's go to the heights, might as well know who to look up to eh
" 'Aight, owl roosts it is." Gabe takes you around and talks pretty constantly with some help from the others, they seem surprisingly friendly if crude. Your instinct tells you that they aren't half as hardened they want you to think they are.
"Here we are, first stop is the Big man's place. Some call him Mr. Rodgers, some call him bastard, some call him savior. He's old though, old old wraith. He owns the city, doesn't make it obvious, but he's the top of the movers and the shakers. Still helps a lot of the newfolk though, we respect his haunt, he respects ours. For an owl he's ain't bad." Gabe shrugs and a few of the others give the building an only half mocking salute.
"Now that big set of building's there, that's the guild houses, puppeteers, banshees, haunters, sin-speakers, travelers, usurers, body walkers, all of 'em. They'll teach if you've got coin, and they'll even take you in if you've got skill. Guilds take care of their own, least they do until the hierarchy tells 'em to do elseways." He snorts and spits.
"And that's that ugly bitch of a building there" he says pointing out a squat dull lump of stone.
"Hierarchy flops for their movers and shakers, mercs come to get work there, cohorts come to take contracts, and honest like us newfolk get shot full of holes we stray too close..." The entire group spits and jeers at the building from a safe distance, though the guards by it pay them no mind.
Gabe clicks his tongue absently.
"Right moleman, we goin' to the drop. You never been then you're going to see some weird, don't stray far 'cause we won't be going in after you, no matter how much we could get off your corpse."(Ability added, Heights Quarter Knowledge: Jhon can now roll 3 dice against a 6 difficulty to find something specific in the Heights Quarter)
Corpus 8/9
Pathos 7/10
Will 8/10
Inventory,
Stygian iron choker (Worn)
Taurus Raging Bull 3/5
Corpus 10/10
Pathos 9/10
Will 9/10
Inventory,
Purse with 2 3/4 Oboli
Page from the book of Tel'ars
Cat-shaped stain
Corpus 10/10
Pathos 10/10
Will 5/10
Inventory,
Suicide Pistol, Five-seveN 19/20
Laptop
Purse with 3 Oboli
Corpus 10/10
Pathos 5/10
Will 5/10
Inventory,
Truncheon
White Book
Black Book
Purse with 3 oboli
Investigate The Necropolis. (All) (1 XP Aggregated)
In my time of dying: Find out what's happening to you. (All) (2 XP Aggregated)
The High cost of dying: Pay off your debt to Mr. Rodgers (-/15 Oboli Each) (Frank, Daniel, Jhon) (0 XP Aggregated)
Heretical Thinking: Investigate the clubs (Frank) (1 XP Aggregated)
Author
Topic: Wraith: RTD from beyond the veil. That's why you should avoid skinfreak clubs. (Read 41039 times)