Sombrero

The Golden Tree Hotel

The history of the vague foundation left behind by what must have been an enormous building in the 1920s is as unreliable as the memories of the people who visitted when it was still up. There was no documentation, no records, no artifacts left behind but lines and lines of building-shaped bricks and crumbling, sinking walls with a courtyard roughly in the middle of it, and a large dead tree in the middle of that.

Once upon a time, it was a place of glorious music, cheerful secrets, and romance aplenty. Nowadays, its music is the screech of rusty chandeliers and the pained groans of an old building in the wind. Its cheerful secrets are the stashes of junkies and the unlicensed fishermen that sneak onto the beaches at night. Now, the closest thing it gets to romance are on the dreary, rainy spring days when crows fight for boning rights behind the remains of its walls.

Or at least that's what the locals would tell you. It seems everyone in town is completely unaware of the fact that someone's been restoring it, and that a big, beautiful resort (although still quite old-looking and incomplete in the strangest of places) has been practically glowing along the beach for a few days now.

Welcome to the chilly, perpetually foggy realm of New England, the place where people with personal problems go to fight the unceasingly strange forces of ambiguous morality. Especially if fetus monsters get involved at some point. You've arrived here after receiving a rather fancy invitation announcing the grand re-opening of the Golden Tree Hotel, giving you the address and telling you to drop by sometime next week when the ribbon is cut. Perhaps you should go? Who knows what can happen on a vacation to the coast? Goodness knows that nothing bad could possibly happen...

Genre Information: THIS IS A HORROR GAME!... Sort of...

Before you go making a character, it might be useful to note that this will not be your average quirky romantic hotel vacation game. In fact, I'll try my best to avoid that at all costs. You're perfectly welcome to have your romance and your quirkiness, as it'll likely enrich characters and stories, but the setting will not facilitate that specifically. This resort is a Silent-Hill type locale that chews up inner angst and spits out monsters and such. You're also likely to meet several eldritch monsters and other beings that have been pent up in this location (for hidden lore reasons) for up to 80 years.

Now, I won't pretend that I'm a great horror writer, because I'm not. I'd almost call it dark comedic surrealism, if anything... Ah, screw my inconclusive ramblings, just suffice it to say that this will not be a normal Inn-type roleplay. You should expect your character to be going on an adventure and potentially dying.

Rules

1. The GM's word is law. *Puffs out chest*
2. You should at least try to post once a day.
3. Write as much as you want, but try to avoid going through paragraphs of action without giving other characters a chance to react.
4. As is the same in all places, Bunnying, Godmoding, Power Playing, Munchkinning, (I've seen it done in freeforms before...) and being a slimy wang in general are very frowned upon and also very NOT ALLOWED.
5. Romance is fine and mildly encouraged. If you plan on going beyond 2nd base (Or plan on going to 2nd base graphically and/or nudely) fade to black, drop the curtain, or have a heart-shaped iris shot and do it in PMs.
6. Have fun. Everyone who breaks this rule will be bored to death with extreme prejudice.

Character Sheet

PM me the sheet, and then post it in Characters if it's accepted. It won't count against you if you do post it here, but I'd like to keep everything as mysterious as possible... Also it requires 5 less milliseconds for me to access.

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Appearance:
Inventory:
Strengths:
PLEASE KEEP THESE LAST FOUR IN PM, IT'S MORE AWESOME WHEN PEOPLE DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HOTEL IS GOING TO SPIT OUT.)
Weaknesses:
Fears:
Vices:
Scars:

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

Moses didn't break his gaze. While initially shocked at the size of the fellow in front of him, he knew that if worst came to worst, this would be a battle of guns... And as a smaller man, he had the upper hand. But he wasn't stupid, and he well knew he was hanging on the last straw here. He would waste no more time. He decided, as the man was angry, and Southern, to leave out his war history with a background that might just as easily have explained his scars... He didn't have to know that he hadn't been in the organization for very long...

"Name's Moses Jones. Pinkerton Agent, humbly at yer serv'ce."

He remained still, in his composed military stance, his eyes locked on Hugo's. He messed up, and bad. He'd have to schmooze his way out of this little corner if he planned on working under this man's supervision with any hopes of freedom or efficiency...

"I'm sorry if what I said soun'ned disserspec'ful, sir," He added coolly and matter-of-factly, "I menna say it looks yer doin' a good job."

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

@Sombrero Who said, "retired"?

I call it temporary leave.

@Monochromatic Rainbow

Leave? You can't leave war! Killing someone is just like getting hellaciously drunk at a frat party, sleeping with 30 people when your (soon to be) ex walks in, and waking up in the back of a rainbow-colored Rolls Royce with some sports mascots: It never leaves you, you get nightmares about it, you could brag about it under the right circumstances, and some people just can't stop doing it. The only way to leave war is to find a way to live it down or cope with it, and, quite honestly, I don't know which one is more difficult to live with...

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

Half-trained ranchers, Cowboys, and retired veterans? Lucky how Moses was all three of those things. ^_^

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

Moses opened the door, sunlight and sand meandering in behind him where it could. He walked with a different, less thuggish posture than usual, standing as tall as he could. It wasn't much, especially not compared to the veritable giant in front of him, but it was still a proud stance indicative of a man with business in mind.

With an attempt at the official pomp and circumstance of a prestigious agent, he took off his hat, but it was obvious by its suddenness (as if he had just remembered) and the awkward greeting smile that followed (When his sun-worn wrinkles would have you know he's probably never smiled in his life) that he's probably never seen either of those two things in the same place at once.

"G'Afternoon." Moses said simply, his voice rolling out of his mouth like a lion's roar with a throat full of pit gravel.

He paused for a second, considering his words, and through accident, misaimed frustration, or dumb luck, settled on the worst possible set of them.

"Y'say yer a busy man, so I assume your'n charge of the law 'rounn'ere?"

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

I don't know if there is a sheriff. @Jbcool The town is about 1,000 people or so and the Army has a unit there for peace keeping in the area, it'd be up to you whether the town would have a sheriff or not. Remember it's still in the Reconstruction period, and most of the South is under marital law still. I'm not 100 % sure if that meant there wasn't any sheriffs or not, but something worth thinking about. http://www.army.mil/article/153230/150_years_ago__Army_takes_on_peacekeeping_duties_in_post_Civil_War_South/

@idlehands

I'm not sure Moses knows that. He's spent his cowboying days in a town in the far west with mostly union influences, where law was upheld by police. He also isn't very up to date on the war or the news of the world, and while he knows the Union won, he doesn't know how (or if) the South is being held down by lawmen, which is why he came. He's assuming justice is run traditionally, and as a Pinkerton agent, is expected to work with the local law enforcement regardless. Heading to the Jailhouse and asking to see who's in charge is a must for someone of his personal code regardless of whether the lawman turns out to be a Sheriff, a Colonel, or a Shogun... (My god... I'm now envisioning Caine from Kung Fu as a Pinkerton Agent...)

Dungeon Punks

Oh snap. I thought everybody had disappeared.

Well, since not, I'd say crusty ole Olaek would be more than happy to bet everything Semkys has on a pair of threes. Are we talking like a random pickup game or some sketchy closed door invite only kind of deal?

@Ogobrogo

The Badger wants beer money and I imagine wouldn't particularly care who joins... Unless he has reason to suspect that they're as good a cheater as he is. (or better)

Flying Fists, Burning Spirit (Wuxia)

An old character from a Medieval game I once played. Much better setting for him here, methinks.

Name: Alfredo
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Personality: Alfredo is very easygoing, kindly, humble, and at times mischievous. He travels long distances offering magic acts and accupuncture treatment to aid the communities he visits. You'd be hard pressed to find a way to get him to use his hands for real violence... Unless you're robbing someone within earshot.
Brief Backstory: Alfredo once lived in a land to the far, far west, and came east as a small child in trading wagons. He traveled to the tenth world as his master, a powerful magician, brought him there to better learn and harness the power of Ki. He only knew a fraction of what his master did before his master died of disease, but a fraction was still quite a lot... He knew two powerful Ki arts, he knew how to make delicious potions, and that a Wizard errant was always polite to everyone he met... And he also knew enough of this to make a suitable living in this land, and so he has traveled for 15 years since then, adventuring and such.

Styles and Techniques:
He is a magician, and in combat uses one of two martial arts from Magician clans taught to him by his master. He can swap styles quite quickly when needed, but they aren't very easy to mix.

Zhizhu Chao Quan

Zhizhu Chao Quan (or "Spider Nest Boxing") was practiced primarily by a secretive shaman's guild in Mongolia, before it spread and was picked up by warrior monks in Canton, where it was refined and its magical elements were brought out to a much higher degree. ZCQ imitates the movements of a spider, low, wide stances, quick, able dodges, leaps, acrobatics, and several ground positions. The Spider Nest Boxer never stays down for long, and when they are down, they're just as capable of attacking as they are when they're standing. The stance and style itself requires exhaustive physical training to master, but the subtle ki power comes into play when the special techniques do.

The Spider's Bite:
ZCQ strikes are all open-handed at first, but when they land, the fighter quickly "bites", clenching his fingers around the body part he struck with incredible force. (Which can be improved with Ki to potentially tear through flesh, if needed) They are quick to jam their fingers and thumbs into pressure points to disrupt the flow of others' ki. This disrupts magical attacks and causes immense pain. Or, in the right places, can cause paralysis,(Nerve centers under the arm and at leg joints) sickness/nausea/vomitting,(Stomach, kidneys, and throat) temporary blindness/deafness/loss of feeling,(Neck and spine) heart palpatations,(major veins and arteries) suffocation,(throat and diaphragm) and death (any positions for the last three if not corrected by the boxer or by a skilled physician).

The Hunting Palm:
After a successful strike, the master's hand can quickly "Crawl" along the body like a spider, sensing nerves, veins, and important ki flow points. If a sensitive strategic position is found, they can tighten their grip and gouge their fingers into it again without opening themselves up to make another strike... Assuming his foe doesn't just grab his hand and pull it away.

Fangshi Quantou

Regarded as the fighting style of the trickster, this form of martial arts was created by a band of alchemists who were regarded by their king as witches and heathens. They developed a highly dangerous style to protect themselves from enemies that were better armed than they were. The stance is very fluid, involving coiling techniques familiar to Drunken Boxers. The Alchemist can turn around on a dime and bend to incredible positions without disrupting their balance, making them frustratingly difficult to hit. The spells of the Alchemist focus on the elements they come across

Titanium Strike:
The fighter focusses their ki into their hands and feet, hardening them by an incredible amount and strengthening their blows slightly. The main use for this technique, however, is for grabbing blades and potentially breaking them when you don't have any blades of your own.

Oxygen Strike:
The fighter focusses their Ki into their breath, and becomes one with it, allowing them to create strong gusts with their hands and feet that have all the force of a punch or kick. This extends the fighter's reach greatly, but gas doesn't have the density or structure of a hand or foot. It can knock enemies off balance, but rarely ever harm them. (Unless someone decides to test how flammable raw oxygen is, in which case the alchemist is in just as much danger as his attacker...)

Magnesium Strike:
The fighter focusses ki to conjure and throw ball bearings of varying size, which explode into smoke and fire. The bigger this particular magnesium ball is, and the higher the fire-to-smoke-ratio is that it's supposed to produce, the more exhausting it is to summon.

Equipment:

Non-Combat Gear:
A small box of Acupuncture needles, a wine case of Cane Potions, (Basically red, un-carbonated cream sodas that wizards know how to make) a deck of cards, two waterskins, a bowl and spoon, and a mortar and pestle.

Combat Gear:
Alfredo has several hidden blades in his robes. The hidden pockets were originally for producing effects when performing street magic, but he's lived a fairly "eventful" life, which usually involved being attacked by bandits on the road. He has springloaded elbow blades, "Rooster Spurs" (Shoe knives on either end of the foot) a Shaolin Dart Launcher, (wrist-mounted small dart gun) and a magical umbrella, which happens to be quite sharp on the top end, in addition to making a durable shield when opened. He also possesses a magical silk cape, a tool he uses to obscure his movements, distract his foes (and audience) and hide things. It happens to be enchanted with an ancient and powerful spell, which grants it the ability to... Look really nice.

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

Sorry about that. I could provide you with excuses, but what matters is that I haven't posted, and that's a problem. I have posted now though, possibly outside the bounds of all but the most technical definitions of "the end of tomorrow".

Six-Shot Story - An RP of the American Old 'Wild' West (On indefinite HIATUS)

(Within 4 hours of 24 counts as before the end of tomorrow, right?)

It was a long ride to Laredo, but pleasant. Just windy enough to keep the sun from boiling Moses and his fellow travelers. But he probably wouldn't have boiled anyway. Maybe burst into flames. He was far too dry and dusty a man to boil alive. And perhaps his fellows would have burst into flames as well. Had it not been for a barrel of cider in the back,there would have been nothing to drink. aside from riverwater, but Moses insisted that nobody even touch that substance when he was around.

Many quiet days and cold nights passed, conversation swooped by very briefly and very rarely, like a small bird. Moses found himself enjoying the solitude, but the other travelers grew restless. Cards were played, some was won and lost, and over the course of events for that week, it would be safe to assume that positively nothing of any conceivable import transpired. And that was exactly how Moses liked to travel.

When he had finally made it to Laredo one evening, he made his place at the local Inn, renting a room and putting locking up his secondary cavalry guns. In the morning, he need simply get up and follow procedure. Discreetly let the local sheriff know about his position as a Pinkerton agent, maybe have a few drinks, and wait until his help was needed... But that was not at all what happened. The morning was well gone by the time Moses awoke, and when that happened, he awoke not to the crow of the rooster but the cries of a young boy, the swoons of women, and the awkward reactionary mumblings of the general populace.

Naturally, he had to respond as quickly as possible. He got dressed in a hurry, didn't have time for his waistcoat, a fine shirt and some suspenders would have to be enough. He put on his hat, his boots, his belt, holstered his gun and ran outside to see a little blonde boy crying out for help in the street. He had two choices: Take the law into his own hands by helping this boy without documentation or authorization by the police force, or tell the police his business in Laredo wait for the dust to clear. Moses had seen people take the law into their own hands before, and he believed, to some degree, that the more intelligent people who held the law in their proverbial hands, the less likely the law is to die a horrible death of corruption.

Moses turned to the jailhouse, intent on finding the sheriff; the boy would have to wait. There was due process in the matters of Justice.