Penny

The Sunday Group - The Flicker Cases

@POOHEAD189
Next weekend with any luck

The Sunday Group - The Flicker Cases

@Sovi3t

Yes I am!

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The Graf was found cowering in a supply closet. Graf Von Donkeubruk had been a powerful man in his youth as was testified by his ropey muscles and the several portraits of him which hung around the place. Time however had not been kind to the man, he was emaciated and his flesh seemed to have withered on his bones. There was no logical justification for it but Camilla had the impression that he had lost every pound his wife had gained. The Graf's skin looked patchy, as though it had been painted on rather than growing naturally.

"Is it over?" the old Graf asked, his voice trembling. Camilla helped him out of the closet and deposited him on a setae. He blinked vaguely and then seemed to focus on the mercanaries and his wife. The grafin rushed up to her husband. She had lost the axe but her clothing was a ruin and her cheeks were flushed with her recent exertions.

"You are alive!" she gasped, enfolding the Graf in a hug that threatened to smoother him. Camilla averted her eyes politely for several seconds until the couple could compose themselves.

"Do you have any idea why these... things would attack your home?" Camilla asked after a moment. The Graf looked compltely baffled.

"My dear, I'm afraid I dont have the slightest clue."

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

"Perhaps you speak wisely my son," Ramon said after a moment, his eyes cut towards Yuki again as she blew an improbably large bubble with a wad of pink gum she was working. He clearly viewed the strange girl with more than a little suspicion. Regardless he placed his hands together in an attitude of prayer. Without speaking further he turned and led the way down to the nave. Ramon paused in front of the cross and genuflected, crossing himself as he did so. It might have been January's imagination but it seemed there was a slight reverberation in the room as the priest did so.

"Over the years St Anthony has provide storage and sanctuary for many," he explained as he rose to his feet and turned into the sacristry. Inside another pair of priests were sitting at a table playing a complicated game of cards with a tarot desk. They both looked up as Ramon entered. They were big for priests with knuckles swollen with old scar tissue and eyes which had seen more than the mercy of their god.

"Peace be with you brothers," Ramon told them and was answered with nods as the pair turned back to their game. Ramon led them down a series of curving iron stairs. They coiled down and down until they were several stories below the earth. Here a vast corridor opened in a series of baroque sculpted arches which stretched off into the distance. Along the corridor small alcoves were set off with iron doors each inscribed with a strange rune.

"Welcome to the Vault of Lost Things," Ramon told them as he led them along the corridor to a section where the pearl inlaid walls had been blackened and scorched as though by fire or some strange blights. The runes on the doors hear pulsed angrily and in places the pearlesenct finish seemed to be regrowing. At the center of the strange discoloration several alcove doors had be completely unhinged, their runes cold and silent.

"These were the vaults which were defiled," Ramon admitted, a touch of old testament anger coloring the last word.

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

I dont think they can do so mechanically no, though a GM could probably make something like that happen

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

IF any old timers are looking for another crack at a horrible death:

roleplayerguild.com/topics/186608-the…

The Sunday Group - The Flicker Cases

@Xacha Its really an excellent system for crowdsourcing creativity and pace. It stipulates when supernatural elements can be added in overtly and when they can be alluded too so it builds in the slow burn. It also uses a collective head cannon where everyone has to keep track of what is going on in their own minds and then you pick the best one. You might have to add rules for action though as in Lovecraftesque the protagonist is always kind of passive, just like in the actual stories.

Penny's Pencils

NSFW

The Sunday Group - The Flicker Cases

Essentially I nominate one person to be the 'clue giver' in a particular round of posting and what they come up with is what I will run with. I intend to start with a series of small relatively quickly resolved cases. I will start out with a framing of the case and a few ideas for people then we will work it out from there. We can discuss it in the OOC or I may join the 21st century and have a discord.

I really ought to ask the Lovecraftesque writers if I can hack it for urban fantasy, that would be rad...

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

This might, Camilla realized, have been a mistake. Even with the disruption Cydric was causing, the press of tree-kin was tremendous. The Grafin did well enough with her axe, hewing the beasts with great cuts that send limbs flying and splintered trunk to sappy pulp, but her own light rapier proved to be all but useless. The best she could do was to deflect the branches that would otherwise have blindsided the axe wielding noblewoman. Nor, unfortunately, was it possible to retreat to the next doorway, a heavy wooden affair that would have made a better defensive position, as the tree kin were already on the landing in number enough to begin to flank. A branch cracked against Camilla's wrist and she responded with a back hand cut which was as useless as her other strikes had been. The light flickered and danced and she glanced above her to see one of the smaller treekin crouching atop the wrought iron chandelier. It leaped at Camilla like a missle leaves fluttering as it came. The Tilean sellsword dropped her blade and caught the thing with both hands, redirecting it over the splintered railing and down into the malestrom of flaming trees below.

"Run!" Cammilla shouted at the Grafin and then leaped upwards, catching a torch sconce and vaulting up onto the chandelier landing with both feet as close as she could to the central pilus. The ancient plaster above gave way and the wrought iron ring plunged down into the spot the Grafin had just vacated with a shower of powder and a crash like the world ending. Camilla rode it down, leaping clear at the last moment and then snatching for her sword. One of the flailing limbs caught her a glancing blow and sent her staggering backwards. She bounced off the wall and tumbled over the mass of half inanimate wood and vines. Camilla tried to scramble backwards, but one of the treekin was already rearing above her like a wooden scorpion, wickedly sharp arms ready to strike down through her belly. The Grafin of Donkeubruk unceremoniously grabbed Camillia by a handful of curly hair and yanked her back through the door a heart beat before the creature struck, its arms driving into the floor hard enough to splinter both flooring and limbs.

"Come and get it ye overgrown kindlin!" a dwarven voice shouted as Thor and Gunir, having finally cleared the wall, charged in to Cydric aid. The dwarves came on with a hatred and glee that Camilla had only seen in the settling of grudges, their axes hewed the creatures down like so many corn stalks, sending sap and splintered wood flying in all directions. Nor, it seemed, were the dwarves put off by the fact that most of their oppponents were now on fire. They hacked on, beards and clothing smoking as they pressed home their attack. It wouldn't have been exactly accurate to say that the attack broke the dryads. They neither fled nor panicked but the seemed to realize that the game was up. Between one heartbeat and the next glowing eyes and thrashing timber became dead and inert firewood.

"Oh eye, run awae ye damned Elgi marrionetes!" Gunir yelled, clearly arrived. Camilla, aching and bruised sagged gratefully against the wall whispered a quiet prayer of thanks to Myrmidida.