N3v3rM0r3
Ezekiel
Pizza Box
RPM
Hos
rush99999
tadcfnaf
Syrenrei
Zeus23@Humble1 Urban shadows has an intimacy mechanic but it doesn't do romance. Intimacy doesn't need romantic and tends to be a double edged sword at best.
Penny Member
STATUS: Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad. 16 days ago
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16 days ago
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Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad.
3
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24 days ago
She wanted to read, she wanted to write, but the main thing she wanted was something to fight
4
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1 yr ago
Make it clear that you don't need him to be reading Dante tomorrow. Also suggest it would be fun if you had a private language that you could use to mock English speakers in secret.
5
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2 yrs ago
Luckily history suggests an infinite ability for people to be shit heads ;)
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3 yrs ago
Achmed the Snake
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Bio
Early 30's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.
Most Recent Posts
The docks were filled with people though it seemed to Emmaline that they were largely idlers rather than interested in working. With the ships penned up by the sirens, loading had been completed. Even so there were plenty of sailors and off work stevedors with associated whores and street vendors. A few of the stevedores stood up and began to call to Emmaline asking about cargo. She ignored their calls, the Hammer was empty but she supposed that once Markus had found a chandlery there would be work loading cordage, spars and other supplies for the voyage.
The city had a strange grandeur once Emmaline wandered beyond the waterfront. It seemed oddly squashed against the cliffside though there were extensive tunnels and caves which had been squared off with masonry. Climbing upwards into what seemed to be a merchant's quarter. The shops here seemed to be largely wrought out of stone, timber evidently being in somewhat short supply, but it had been done with surpassing artistry. Emmaline suspected that the presence of so many dwarves had something to do with that. The stunted folk were certainly outnumbered by humans, but there were more dwarves here per capita than in Altdorf or anywhere else Emmaline had visited. There was even a modest temple that depicted a dwarf swinging a pick. The temple seemed to atract both human and dwarf worshipers, though judging by their fine clothes it seemed unlikely they were miners themselves.
"You can leave me alone," she told Halfdan who hulked along behind her like a muscular shadow.
"That's not what the what the captain said," Halfdan grunted. Emmaline scowled but knew better than to bother argue with the big Norscan. Halfdan had a very simple view of the world and there was little point in arguing with him. Instead she turned into a brassware store and began muttering under her breath. Halfdan followed her in and then cursed, reaching for his sword in shock when he found that Emmaline had vanished. He raced the the back of the store despite the shouts of the owner to be careful but there was no sign of her. He stalked around for several more minutes before heading out to the street.
"Crazy foreigners," the shop keeper muttered as the Norscan finally left. A large mirror of polished silver suddenly rippled as a blond haired Imperial woman stepped from the metal as though emerging from a pool.
"Right?" she agreed, and then walked out of the store, leaving the storekeeper staring in shock after her.
The city had a strange grandeur once Emmaline wandered beyond the waterfront. It seemed oddly squashed against the cliffside though there were extensive tunnels and caves which had been squared off with masonry. Climbing upwards into what seemed to be a merchant's quarter. The shops here seemed to be largely wrought out of stone, timber evidently being in somewhat short supply, but it had been done with surpassing artistry. Emmaline suspected that the presence of so many dwarves had something to do with that. The stunted folk were certainly outnumbered by humans, but there were more dwarves here per capita than in Altdorf or anywhere else Emmaline had visited. There was even a modest temple that depicted a dwarf swinging a pick. The temple seemed to atract both human and dwarf worshipers, though judging by their fine clothes it seemed unlikely they were miners themselves.
"You can leave me alone," she told Halfdan who hulked along behind her like a muscular shadow.
"That's not what the what the captain said," Halfdan grunted. Emmaline scowled but knew better than to bother argue with the big Norscan. Halfdan had a very simple view of the world and there was little point in arguing with him. Instead she turned into a brassware store and began muttering under her breath. Halfdan followed her in and then cursed, reaching for his sword in shock when he found that Emmaline had vanished. He raced the the back of the store despite the shouts of the owner to be careful but there was no sign of her. He stalked around for several more minutes before heading out to the street.
"Crazy foreigners," the shop keeper muttered as the Norscan finally left. A large mirror of polished silver suddenly rippled as a blond haired Imperial woman stepped from the metal as though emerging from a pool.
"Right?" she agreed, and then walked out of the store, leaving the storekeeper staring in shock after her.
@Dark Cloud It is thematically similar, but the rules are much much easier and players have a great deal more narrative control
@POOHEAD189 Ill have to check your references
Would anyone be interested in playing a game of Urban Shadows?
Urban Shadows is a PbtA game meant to simulate urban fantasy, think The Dresden Files, Iron Druid, Vampire the Masquerade.
I'd be looking for maybe 4 players.
Urban Shadows is a PbtA game meant to simulate urban fantasy, think The Dresden Files, Iron Druid, Vampire the Masquerade.
I'd be looking for maybe 4 players.
For as much as the passage in was treacherous, the harbor of Tobaro was excellent. The water ran deep right to the quays and only the very largest of ships, ships which would have had difficulty making the passage through the rocks in the first place, needed to anchor rather than simply tie off to a dock. To Emmaline's suprise there were a considerable number of ships in the harbor, mostly from Tilea but with a spattering of other vessels including a sleek Araybian Galleon and one of the narrow high built teak vessels which were reputed to come from the Southlands. There was even an elven vessel, of bright white timber and large triangular sails that road close to the water and looked more like a creature of the sea than something built by mortal hands.
As the Hammer approached a gaggle of small boats began to converge on it. They were too small to threaten the ship, hardly more than row boats with sails and occasionally catamarans in the elven fashion. Men dressed in extravagant finery stood in the bows. Their clothing was of fine quality but in many cases old, and invariably festoned with rolled up scrolls of yellow parchment, as well as a bewildering array of brass instruments which Emmaline could only assume were largely ceremonial. One man, in the nearest boat, raised a brass speaking trumpet to his lips.
"You cannot enter the harbor without engaging a pilot, heave too at once!" the man yelled. Before anyone aboard the Hammer could respond a second boatman shouted through cupped hands.
"Do not do business with that swine, the Aritino family are the best pilots with the best prices!" A score of other boatmen began calling similar things, offering their services to guide the ship. Markus seemed content to ignore the barkers and so Emmaline figured she would as well. She was looking forward to getting ashore, having been more or less on the outs with the captain since their argument following her efforts to save the ship. Far from earning her the crews respect, their seemed to be a universal irritation at her that she had broken the main yard, something which had taken hours of back breaking labor to repair. Emmaline reminded herself to let them drown if a similar situation should once again arise.
"We are already in the harbor," Emmaline mused, "why would we need a pilot?" The question wasn't really directed at anyone but Klaus who was on deck and staring longingly at the approaching land, answered anyway.
"The Navigator families make their living offering passage through the rocks," he explained.
"Well that would have been a huge help on the other side of the rocks," Emmaline replied acidly. Klaus bobbed his head, clearly eager to be able to lecture somebody.
"Its the Siren's feeding season you see, that is why there were not pilots, they normally tether to the outlying rocks and guide ships in, but not during mating season because...well..." he stammered.
"Because they would all get eaten," Emmaline concluded. Klaus nodded, clearly unhappy thinking about the prospect.
"It is also why their are so many ships in harbor, they dont want to ship out before the next full moon," he explained.
As the Hammer approached a gaggle of small boats began to converge on it. They were too small to threaten the ship, hardly more than row boats with sails and occasionally catamarans in the elven fashion. Men dressed in extravagant finery stood in the bows. Their clothing was of fine quality but in many cases old, and invariably festoned with rolled up scrolls of yellow parchment, as well as a bewildering array of brass instruments which Emmaline could only assume were largely ceremonial. One man, in the nearest boat, raised a brass speaking trumpet to his lips.
"You cannot enter the harbor without engaging a pilot, heave too at once!" the man yelled. Before anyone aboard the Hammer could respond a second boatman shouted through cupped hands.
"Do not do business with that swine, the Aritino family are the best pilots with the best prices!" A score of other boatmen began calling similar things, offering their services to guide the ship. Markus seemed content to ignore the barkers and so Emmaline figured she would as well. She was looking forward to getting ashore, having been more or less on the outs with the captain since their argument following her efforts to save the ship. Far from earning her the crews respect, their seemed to be a universal irritation at her that she had broken the main yard, something which had taken hours of back breaking labor to repair. Emmaline reminded herself to let them drown if a similar situation should once again arise.
"We are already in the harbor," Emmaline mused, "why would we need a pilot?" The question wasn't really directed at anyone but Klaus who was on deck and staring longingly at the approaching land, answered anyway.
"The Navigator families make their living offering passage through the rocks," he explained.
"Well that would have been a huge help on the other side of the rocks," Emmaline replied acidly. Klaus bobbed his head, clearly eager to be able to lecture somebody.
"Its the Siren's feeding season you see, that is why there were not pilots, they normally tether to the outlying rocks and guide ships in, but not during mating season because...well..." he stammered.
"Because they would all get eaten," Emmaline concluded. Klaus nodded, clearly unhappy thinking about the prospect.
"It is also why their are so many ships in harbor, they dont want to ship out before the next full moon," he explained.
The keg burst in a blast of sooty black smoke shot through with a spurt of flame. At Emmaline's suggestion Sketti had packed a charge of grape shot, essentially bagged musketballs and scrap iron, into the top. One moment the sirens were there and the next they were replaced with shredded piles of flesh. The surface of the ocean hissed like millpond in spring rain for a moment and then returned to is normal gentle swell. One of the pirates, aroused but now lacking any sirens to attract his attention, grabbed Emmaline by the tunic. She hit him in the head with the bell she had been ringing, dropping him to the deck with an unmusical thonk. Having ceased her bell ringing, she plucked one of the pieces of cotton from her ears. The song was gone, replaced only by the caw of sea gulls attracted by the carnage the bursting powder charge had inflicted. Emmaline didn't doubt that there were more, possibly many more of the Siren's beneath the waves, but hopefully the blood smeared rock would serve as a sufficient deterrent against any future attacks on the Hammer.
"Well don't just stand there!" Morgan bellowed at the crew, apparently having removed the wool from his own ears as well.
"Get to work clearing up this mess!" he shouted, waving a hand to indicate the wreckage Emmaline's impromptu wet blanket had made. The sailors peered around for a moment as though puzzled at how such a thing had come to pass before shouted orders and the occasional blow from the bosun got them moving.
"And get to work re-hanging the mainsail yard, Mannan save us we will be lucky if we dont run aground for want of a main course," he barked shooting an irritated look at Emmaline. She offered an extravagant bow in return before moving over to stand beside Markus who was reloading the rifle he had just fired.
"You are welcome," she said smuggly in Morgan's direction.
"Well don't just stand there!" Morgan bellowed at the crew, apparently having removed the wool from his own ears as well.
"Get to work clearing up this mess!" he shouted, waving a hand to indicate the wreckage Emmaline's impromptu wet blanket had made. The sailors peered around for a moment as though puzzled at how such a thing had come to pass before shouted orders and the occasional blow from the bosun got them moving.
"And get to work re-hanging the mainsail yard, Mannan save us we will be lucky if we dont run aground for want of a main course," he barked shooting an irritated look at Emmaline. She offered an extravagant bow in return before moving over to stand beside Markus who was reloading the rifle he had just fired.
"You are welcome," she said smuggly in Morgan's direction.
Leyla Ashburn - Winter Knight
Leyla Ashburn - Winter Knight
Emmaline lifted her head at the sound of the strange time. To her ear it sounded something like the operetos which had been all the rage before she left Altdorf for Tilea. At the time her task had been to get her various 'dates' drunk enough that they would invest in one of Albrect The Magnificent's various cons, something about reworking old mines for silver with arcane techniques. The associaion wasn't a particularly warm one though it had been the handsy merchants and nobles rather than the music that she found objectionable.
"Who is singing?" she demanded, turning her eyes to find Rajad staring out to sea. His body was so tense that the veins in his neck stood out like cords, pulsing and throbbing visibly as she watched. She glanced up to see the sailors making a general rush for the port railing, all except Morgan who looked down right panicked. Ranald's balls even Markus appeared to be staring out over the side like Shyalla was baring her tits!
"Stay," Emmanline commanded and jumped up, leaping down from the forecastle and running along the empty starboard companionway. The hammer was beginning to yaw alarmingly because he quatermaster had apparently abandoned his post. Morgan was making his way to the wheel, alternating between shouting profanity at various sailors and scrambling up the stairs to the quaterdeck. As she went aft Emmaline looked out over the side to try and get a look at whatever was so enrapturing the crew. Fortunately the ship was heeled over to port so she could see over the heads of the crew on that side. Jagged looking rocks eruppted from the ocean in a series of small islands. Well not really islands, they were simply rocks with barnacles coating the lower edges, but on top of the rocks. The sierens were not as beautiful as the ledgends made them out to be, or perhaps they were not to Emmaline's eyes. Sailors gasped love struck and reached out their arms, though the 'women' were still a short cannon shot away. To Emmaline they appeared more like the elves she had seen in Altdorf then women, though their features had a shaper crueler visage than the elder race had worn. Even the crutley of the Dark Elves seemed somewhat tempered. Their necks were puffy, with sacks not unlike those of a bullfrog though less pronounced, and their smiles were filled with wicked teeth.
"Do something!" Morgan shouted as he saw her climb to the quaterdeck obviously still in command of her wits. Emmaline folded her arms.
"Oh sure now you need my help?" she griped. Morgan cocked his head and held a hand to an ear that appeared to be plugged with candle wax.
"What?" he demanded. Emmaline moved her lips but without actually making any sound.
"Speak up damn your eyes!" Morgan bellowed. His eyes flicked nervously from the wheel, to the sailors, to the prow of the ship, trying to steer from memory around the rocks he had seen. There was a sudden splash as one of the sailors, a good looking young man from Marienburg leaped into the water. Emmaline didn't think he could swim, but it turned out to be a moot point as one of the sirens emerged from the water and threw her arms around him before dragging him down beneath the waves. Clearly they were moments away from the whole crew leaping to their deaths in an effort to reach the sirens.
"Got a plan do you blondie?" Sketti asked sourly as he stumped his way up onto the quaterdeck. Evidently the charms of human women or simulated ones held little appeal to the slayer.
"Ummm," Emmaline temporized.
"Inspiring words lass," the Slayer griped. Emmaline put her hand on her hips.
"You know I'm not the only one who can come up with a plan," she complained. Morgan goggled at them.
"Stop talking and DO something!" he roared. Emmaline wished she had something to plug her ears.
"And besides aren't you supposed to want to die?" Emmaline demanded, making a guesture to the singing sirens on the rock.
"Go forth and die bravely or whatever," she instructed. Sketti colored in what Emmaline first thought of as rage, but then to her surprise, realised was embarassment.
"Oh Shyalla's tits you cant swim?" she demanded.
"Never seemed like it was worth the effort," Sketti admitted. The conversation paused at the sound of another sailor leaping to his watery death. Emmaline threw up her hands.
"Fine, Sketti, run and get a barrel of gunpowder and a charge of grapeshot," she ordered. The dwarf, cheered by the mention of explosives, leaped into action, thumping down the deck like an angry elephant.
"You," she yelled at Morgan, "steer for the shore."
"What!?" he yelled unable to hear her, or just horrified by the suggestion.
"Steer. For. The. Shore," Emmaline yelled as though addressing a particularly stupid child. Morgan looked horrified, but turned the wheel over. THere was a thump as the latest mermaid and her lover were hit by thousands of pounds of timber. Well, Emmaline supposed it was better than being eaten.
"They will all jump when we get close!" Morgan protested. Emmaline ignored him and began chanting a spell. She snapped her fingers and a two of the cable ties holding the main course yard in place exploded in a shower of rusted iron. The rigging screamed as the heavy timber came half free, the remaining pair of ties taking up the weight. Ropes parted with twangs as it drew ruin through the rigging, then one of the remaining cable ties fail. The yard came down like a scythe, dragging a wall of canvas behind it that hit the sailors on the port side like a three hundred pound feather mattress. It pitched them inboard and pinned them under the fabric as the final tie gave way. The yard crashed most of the way to the deck, before the dozens of lines tangled around it finally halted its plummet a few feet above the struggling sailors.
"I need that to sail you crazy..." Whatever Morgan had been going to say it was drowned out by Emmaline who had picked up one of the heavy iron tiped rods used to shift the cannons, and begun hammering on the ships bell for all she was worth. The big brass bell boomed deafeningly and constantly as she bashed against it.
"Who is singing?" she demanded, turning her eyes to find Rajad staring out to sea. His body was so tense that the veins in his neck stood out like cords, pulsing and throbbing visibly as she watched. She glanced up to see the sailors making a general rush for the port railing, all except Morgan who looked down right panicked. Ranald's balls even Markus appeared to be staring out over the side like Shyalla was baring her tits!
"Stay," Emmanline commanded and jumped up, leaping down from the forecastle and running along the empty starboard companionway. The hammer was beginning to yaw alarmingly because he quatermaster had apparently abandoned his post. Morgan was making his way to the wheel, alternating between shouting profanity at various sailors and scrambling up the stairs to the quaterdeck. As she went aft Emmaline looked out over the side to try and get a look at whatever was so enrapturing the crew. Fortunately the ship was heeled over to port so she could see over the heads of the crew on that side. Jagged looking rocks eruppted from the ocean in a series of small islands. Well not really islands, they were simply rocks with barnacles coating the lower edges, but on top of the rocks. The sierens were not as beautiful as the ledgends made them out to be, or perhaps they were not to Emmaline's eyes. Sailors gasped love struck and reached out their arms, though the 'women' were still a short cannon shot away. To Emmaline they appeared more like the elves she had seen in Altdorf then women, though their features had a shaper crueler visage than the elder race had worn. Even the crutley of the Dark Elves seemed somewhat tempered. Their necks were puffy, with sacks not unlike those of a bullfrog though less pronounced, and their smiles were filled with wicked teeth.
"Do something!" Morgan shouted as he saw her climb to the quaterdeck obviously still in command of her wits. Emmaline folded her arms.
"Oh sure now you need my help?" she griped. Morgan cocked his head and held a hand to an ear that appeared to be plugged with candle wax.
"What?" he demanded. Emmaline moved her lips but without actually making any sound.
"Speak up damn your eyes!" Morgan bellowed. His eyes flicked nervously from the wheel, to the sailors, to the prow of the ship, trying to steer from memory around the rocks he had seen. There was a sudden splash as one of the sailors, a good looking young man from Marienburg leaped into the water. Emmaline didn't think he could swim, but it turned out to be a moot point as one of the sirens emerged from the water and threw her arms around him before dragging him down beneath the waves. Clearly they were moments away from the whole crew leaping to their deaths in an effort to reach the sirens.
"Got a plan do you blondie?" Sketti asked sourly as he stumped his way up onto the quaterdeck. Evidently the charms of human women or simulated ones held little appeal to the slayer.
"Ummm," Emmaline temporized.
"Inspiring words lass," the Slayer griped. Emmaline put her hand on her hips.
"You know I'm not the only one who can come up with a plan," she complained. Morgan goggled at them.
"Stop talking and DO something!" he roared. Emmaline wished she had something to plug her ears.
"And besides aren't you supposed to want to die?" Emmaline demanded, making a guesture to the singing sirens on the rock.
"Go forth and die bravely or whatever," she instructed. Sketti colored in what Emmaline first thought of as rage, but then to her surprise, realised was embarassment.
"Oh Shyalla's tits you cant swim?" she demanded.
"Never seemed like it was worth the effort," Sketti admitted. The conversation paused at the sound of another sailor leaping to his watery death. Emmaline threw up her hands.
"Fine, Sketti, run and get a barrel of gunpowder and a charge of grapeshot," she ordered. The dwarf, cheered by the mention of explosives, leaped into action, thumping down the deck like an angry elephant.
"You," she yelled at Morgan, "steer for the shore."
"What!?" he yelled unable to hear her, or just horrified by the suggestion.
"Steer. For. The. Shore," Emmaline yelled as though addressing a particularly stupid child. Morgan looked horrified, but turned the wheel over. THere was a thump as the latest mermaid and her lover were hit by thousands of pounds of timber. Well, Emmaline supposed it was better than being eaten.
"They will all jump when we get close!" Morgan protested. Emmaline ignored him and began chanting a spell. She snapped her fingers and a two of the cable ties holding the main course yard in place exploded in a shower of rusted iron. The rigging screamed as the heavy timber came half free, the remaining pair of ties taking up the weight. Ropes parted with twangs as it drew ruin through the rigging, then one of the remaining cable ties fail. The yard came down like a scythe, dragging a wall of canvas behind it that hit the sailors on the port side like a three hundred pound feather mattress. It pitched them inboard and pinned them under the fabric as the final tie gave way. The yard crashed most of the way to the deck, before the dozens of lines tangled around it finally halted its plummet a few feet above the struggling sailors.
"I need that to sail you crazy..." Whatever Morgan had been going to say it was drowned out by Emmaline who had picked up one of the heavy iron tiped rods used to shift the cannons, and begun hammering on the ships bell for all she was worth. The big brass bell boomed deafeningly and constantly as she bashed against it.
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