trollthumper

Nick smiled. "Hey, Dead Head!" he said, shaking a hand that had just seconds ago been crawling about the floor of its own volition. "Good to see you show up. And I see you brought along some party tricks." He took a look at the now-disheveled pile of presents. "So, uh... you have any trouble getting in?"

Okay, note to self -- get a second cell phone. Under a different name. And credit card. "Yeah, well, the Norn aren't really happy about showing me the future," Nick said. "Why don't we meet again a few nights from now? Lagrange Cemetery, in the West End? How's that sound?"

And we are now in Initiative mode. Antonio: 22. Nick: 11. My, that's quite a difference. Waiting on your roll, LS.

No, no, it's a very good point. I put one more PP into Dodge Focus, bringing it up to 10, and decided to put the last PP into Knowledge (theology and philosophy) to reflect Benvenuto's "religious awakening" post-bargain with Medea.

"All right," Nick said. "Though... we got any idea about the lighting in there? 'Cause if we go in the back, it's possible I could provide us some shadow." As if to demonstrate, Nick clenched his fist, and the shadows around him grew thicker. But as he did, something seemed to catch Nick's attention. While the shadows nearer to the building were growing thicker, they formed a definite light patch compared to the rest of the shadow. "So, yeah," he said, "about that 'big gun' thing... I think O'Hagan may be clued in. I saw a bunch of ghosts clawing at the door to this place, but none of 'em had the power to just walk right in. This place may be warded against death, which'll put me in a heck of a place."

The cop looked Valkyrie up and down, trying to process what she'd said. "Um," he said, "sorry about that, miss. I can understand... extenuating circumstances... but we do have CSU coming to process the scene, so if you could... possibly..." Nick nodded to the cop and led Valkyrie out of the building. "Okay," he said, "so we've got a powerful draugr who's trying to raise some of his buddies. He's managed to fit in well with the modern world -- probably even got some cash to his name -- and he's getting involved in a power struggle. Something that could have Ragnarok-type implications, but may just -- and I use "just" in a not-at-all-appropriate sense -- result in blood in the streets." Wait, what time is it? Nick thought. He pulled out his cell phone. Damn! My thirty's almost up! "I'm gonna see what else I can dig up on draugr," he said. "Do you have a number I can reach you at? Or a favored patrol route, or something?"

Huh. Really? Didn't see anything about it in the House Rules, and the book lists it as Perception at 4 PP/rank. But, if that's the case, I'll break down Possession so it's rank 6 at Touch. EDIT: On the other hand, I realized I had 6 PP lying around anyway, and decided to just lower Possession to 8 within the new parameters.

Power Level: 15 Trade-Offs: -3 ATT, +3 DMG Unspent PP: 0 In Brief: Risen draugr wearing the mask of a civilized businessman while setting forth to conquer Freedom's supernatural politics. Alternate Identities: Eric Magnusson Identity: Secret Birthplace: Kaupang, Norway Occupation: Viking raider turned corporate raider Affiliations: The Pinnacle Group (business), the Midnight Court of Stockholm (vampiric politics) Family: All dead Age: 1254 (D.O.B. February 6, 856) Apparent Age: 42 Gender: Male Ethnicity: Scandinavian Height: 6'4" (as Magnusson); 8'0" (as Reaver) Weight: 240 lbs. (as Magnusson); 400 lbs. (as Reaver) Eyes: Green Hair: Red Description: In the Magnusson identity, Reaver cuts a fine yet intimidating figure. Shoulder-length red hair coupled with a well-trimmed beard in a way that appears strangely professional, rather than savage. At both work and social functions, he is usually seen wearing a well-tailored three piece suit. As Reaver, however, the niceties fall away, revealing something savage and primal. His skin turns as pale as bleached bone, his fingernails protrude like talons, and his teeth turn to points. He swells up like a hulking, bloated corpse. In his true form, Reaver prefers to go around in a form of riot armor (complete with BDUs and combat boots) modified to fit his massive form. Power Descriptions: Drain Constitution/Regeneration -- Reaver drinks deeply of blood -- spilled on the ground or fresh from the source -- and as he does, his torn flesh begins to knit back together in a wholly unnatural fashion. Drain Wisdom -- Reaver stares deeply into the eyes of his victim as he touches them, overwhelming them with the aura of death and reducing them to nonsensical babbling. Growth/Morph -- When shifting, the color leeches out of Magnusson's skin as his muscles swell unnaturally, almost as if the body is being inflated by gas. If he hasn't changed out of his normal business clothes, they're torn to shreds, and even if he's changed into his riot armor, it will buckle a bit as his shift takes on strange qualities. Protection -- Swords and bullets either bounce off the leathery skin or punch harmlessly through dead tissue. Strike -- Nails as long as daggers spring forth from Reaver's fingers, punching through leather and mail easily. Weather Control -- The cold mist of the bog coats the area, making the ground slick. With effort, Reaver can call up a cold wind that blows over his prey. History: The man known as Alric was born in blood, brought into the world while his home town of Kaupang was being raided by marauders. His father died in the raid, and from a young age, he wished to follow the path of the warrior. He was trained in the ways of sword and shield at a young age, and was one of the youngest in his town to take part in the raids. Knee-deep in blood and mud on his first sacking, he had found what he was made for. Alric quickly rose in the ranks as a raider, in time becoming a warchief for Kaupang. At least, until the business with Eyja, the elder's daughter. She had led him on, after all; who was to blame him for what he had done? The elders saw differently; Alric was stripped of his honor and exiled. He spent the rest of his days as a traveling mercenary, hung up on old glory while taking any job that would pay. His travels ended in a small camp in Sweden, where a drunken boast ended in a length of steel through his throat. His body was looted, and he was ignominiously dumped in a nearby peat bog. But something of Alric still raged on inside his corpse. He would not let such an ignoble death keep him from what he deserved. A few months later, he clawed his way out of the bog -- no longer a man, but a draugr. He set about to harrowing the nearby towns, concerned with little more than blood and glory. In time, he was put down, but he rose again... and again... and again. It finally took a crusading priest to put Alric back in the ground for good, with a length of steel pierced through his heart and iron needles pierced through his hands and feet. And there he would have lain for the rest of eternity, if not for the efforts of Eric Magnusson. A man who'd made his millions in banking, Magnusson sought to reconnect with his heritage. He helped fund several archaeological digs in Scandinavia, most of which resulted in the unearthing of old armor or coins. Good finds, but in his eyes, not worth the effort. All that changed with a dig that resulted in the unearthing of a "bog body," a body perfectly preserved by the acid content of a peat bog. Magnusson was there for the examination, as the archaeologists drew out the nails and the sword piercing the body for examination. And he was there when the bog body rose up from the table, slew the archaeologists, and tore into him. When Alric came to again, he was standing over the tattered remains of Eric Magnusson. He found that, with the right will, he could assume the form of the fallen magnate. Drawing on partial, jumbled memories of the man he'd just devoured, Alric returned to the millionaire's lodgings. He was startled by how much the world had changed since he had been put in the ground, but looking over the records of Magnusson, he realized that few things had changed. All glory went to the conqueror, whether he ruled the war party or the corporation. Alric's attempts to assimilate to the modern world were aided by Janos, a member of Stockholm's vampiric Midnight Court who realized that something was "off" about the millionaire. Within a few months, "Eric Magnusson" was back in the boardroom and taking the Pinnacle Group in new directions. Alric lived a double life, devoting his days to corporate takeovers and his nights to moving among the darkened halls of the Midnight Court. He kept up Magnusson's archaeological expeditions, but moved to exclusively focusing on peat bogs, hoping to find more draugr like himself. But in time, the challenges of both lives grew dull -- he could not move against some of the stronger members of the Midnight Court, who had strode Europe long before the birth of Christ, and while the corporate world brought riches to his table, he long missed the thrill of war. That was when word leaked back to the Midnight Court. A fledgling had managed to slay two powerful vampires, as well as force the great Dracula to run like a whipped dog. The news not only offered hope to Alric -- that he could rise high, despite losing centuries to his disgraceful burial -- but also a challenge. Soon, Magnusson announced that Pinnacle was looking to expand into Freedom City... Personality & Motivation: As Magnusson, Alric is confident, pleasant, and charismatic, always there with a firm handshake and a warm smile. Both offset a steely gaze, however, and when negotiations start to break down, the warmth recedes, revealing the cold predator that lies behind. Magnusson's feral charm has managed to get a good number of partners into his bedroom, ensuring that he is well-fed. As Reaver, however, the charm mostly vanishes, leaving behind the beast. He will restrain himself somewhat amongst other vampires (especially in social settings), but he is focused first and foremost on the hunt. He will not rest until his target is dead or subjugated. Powers & Tactics: If confronted in the Magnusson form, Reaver will use what means are available to him without revealing his monstrous nature. If pushed to it, however, he will give in and swell to his true form using Growth/Morph. Once he starts taking a beating, he will go into a Rage and start striking at the target that poses the greatest challenge -- but he is mindful of the exhaustion that the blood rage can bring. Complications: Centuries In a Peat-bog: Alric's received a crash course in the ways of modern society, but there are still some areas that catch him off guard. Rival/Enemy: Jack Faretti, power player in Freedom's vampiric court Secret: His identity as Eric Magnusson Abilities: 14 + 6 + (-10) + 4 + 6 + 6 = 26pp Str 32 (Growth+Enhanced Strength)/28 (Growth/Enhanced Strength)/24 (+11/9/7), 38/34/30 (+14/+12/+10) when Raging Dex 16 (+3) Con -- Int 14 (+2) Wis 16 (+3) Cha 16 (+3) Combat: 14 + 16 = 30pp Initiative: +3 Attack: +7 base, +12 Melee Grapple: +18/+16/+14, +22/+20/+18 when Raging Defense: +15 (+8 Base, +7 Dodge Focus), +4 Flat-Footed, +13 when Raging Knockback: -15 (0, -15 Impervious Protection) Saving Throws: 0 + 7 + 9 = 16pp Toughness: +15/-- (-- Con, +15 Protection) Fortitude: -- Reflex: +10 (+3 Dex, +7) Will: +12 (+3 Wis, +9) (+15 when Raging) Skills: 88r = 22pp Bluff 4 (+7) Diplomacy 12 (+15) Gather Information 8 (+11) Intimidate 12 (+15) Knowledge (arcane lore) 8 (+10) Knowledge (business) 8 (+10) Knowledge (history) 4 (+6) Knowledge (tactics) 8 (+10) Knowledge (theology and philosophy) 4 (+6) Language (Old Norse (native), Norwegian, English) Notice 8 (+11) Sense Motive 6 (+9) Survival 4 (+7) Feats: 22PP All-Out Attack Attack Focus 5 (Melee) Benefit (Wealth 2) Connected Dodge Focus 7 Improved Critical (Strike) Improved Grab Power Attack Rage 2 Startle Powers: 4 + 8 + 30 + 8 + 8 + 15 + 8 + 14 + 4 + 2 + 20 = 122PP Enhanced Strength 4 [4pp] Growth 2 (Extras: Linked to Morph, Duration (Continuous)) [8pp] Immunity (fortitude effects) 30 [30pp] Impervious Toughness 15 (Flaws: Limited Against Iron/Steel) [8pp] Morph (one form) 4 (Extras: Linked to Growth, Duration (Continuous)) [8pp] Protection 15 [15pp] Regeneration 18 (Recovery 11 [+6], Injured 6 [No Action], Resurrection 1 [1 week]) (Flaws: Requires Blood) [9pp] Strike 4 (Extras: Penetrating 7) (Power Feats: Alternate Power 2, Mighty) [14pp] AP: Drain Constitution 10 (blood drain; Flaws: Requires Grapple) [5pp] AP: Drain Wisdom 10 (Extras: Alternate Save (Will)) [10pp] Super-Senses 4 (Precognition, Postcognition) (Flaws: Requires Medium (blood)) [4pp] Super-Senses 2 (Darkvision) [2pp] Weather Control (hamper movement) 9 (Power Feats: Alternate Power 2) [20pp] AP: Obscure (visual, fog) 9 [18pp] AP: Air Control 9 [18pp] Drawbacks: 4 + 6 + 2 = 12pp Vulnerability (Iron/Steel Weapons, Frequency: Common, Intensity: Major [2x Damage]) [4pp] Weakness (Contact with Iron/Steel; Frequency: Common; Intensity: Minor (cumulative -1 to all checks); Time Period: 1 round of contact) [6pp] Weakness (Sunlight; Frequency: Common; Intensity: Minor (cumulative -1 to all checks); Time Period: 20 minutes) [2pp] DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Air Control (Trip) Ranged DC17 Str or Dex Tripped Drain Con Touch DC20 Fortitude Lose Con Drain Wis Touch DC20 Will Lose Wis Strike Melee DC30/DC33 w/Rage Toughness (staged) Damage Abilities (26) + Combat (30) + Saving Throws (16) + Skills (22) + Feats (22) + Powers (122) - Drawbacks (12) = 226pp

"It happens," Nick said. "Prophecy's always a weird thing. But we should definitely keep our eyes open for any sorts of power upsets in the city -- if the guy behind this is anything like his friends, I doubt he's gonna be subtle." He paused. "Y'know, you were right... we should probably follow up with those cops..." "Hold it!" Nick raised his hands. "Well, there we go..." "You two realize you may have just contaminated a crime scene, right?"

The man in the mask chuckled. "You can call me Benny, kid," he said. "That's what my men did, back in the day. As for the others..." Benny, as he called himself, spread his arms. "Take a look around you. Food, drink, entertainment, the chance for riches... and anything else you could ask for. This place is a little slice of heaven." To Nick and Kid Cthulhu, it certainly didn't look like it. There were no cheers on the floor, no mirth amongst the gamblers. They seemed to mostly be going through the motions, locked up in the pattern of a dream. "Yeah," Nick said. "I can certainly see that. I thought it was the off season, though. How did you draw the crowds in?" "Oh, I've been... away," Benny said. "Back in the homeland. I talked this place up to some friends I made back there. Told them Freedom was a city of opportunity, a place where you could achieve anything if you put your mind to it. And look where I am now. I'm living proof."

Power Level: 10 (150 PP) Trade-Offs: None Unspent PP: None In Brief: Mobster out of Hades trying to rebuild the ghost of an old crime empire. Alternate Identities: None Identity: Public (to those who know he exists) Birthplace: Freedom City Occupation: Crime Boss/Deathlord Affiliations: None Family: Vanessa Laurentine (daughter, retired banker); Joseph Laurentine (grandson, architect); Lisa Michelson (granddaughter, reporter); Daniel Laurentine (great-grandson, vice cop); Jessica Laurentine (great-granddaugter, artist); Tony Michelson (great-grandson, boxer); Danny Michelson (great-grandson, courier) Age: 108 (Born June 6, 1902; Died September 10, 1938) Apparent Age: 36 Gender: Male Ethnicity: Italian-American Height: 5'10" Weight: 190 lbs. Eyes: Blue Hair: Black Description: Most days, Antonio wears the mask of Rhadamanthus, judge of the dead. The mask is burnished bronze -- while not showing anything of the face beneath, it does shift to display the emotions of the bearer. Underneath the mask is a somewhat handsome face with strong, Mediterranean features -- save for the empty and smoking right eye socket. Antonio is usually seen wearing a cream white suit with black tie, shoes, and greatcoat, draped over his shoulders like a trailing cloak. History: Antonio grew up on the Boardwalk, and it took his heart from a young age. When he could first work, he got a job running the ferris wheel. As his tastes matured, he soon managed to make his way to the Southside Palace, where he got work as a busboy. Pretty soon, his industrious attitude towards work -- and his willingness to turn a blind eye to some of the "eccentricities" of the casino -- got the attention of the higher ups. By the time he was seventeen, he had a job as a legbreaker for the family. Antonio was one of the more loyal soldiers within the operation, soon ending up in charge of keeping vice in line at the Palace. When the boss died in an attack by a rival crew, Antonio managed to assume the reins of the operation. When the smoke cleared, he was in charge of the Palace. But with the power, came the fear. There was rumor that the boss's death was not entirely the result of the rival family -- that someone from within the Palace had set it up. Even as his influence grew and his life took a turn for the better, Antonio began to fear that he was being positioned for a dagger in the back. That was when the strega came to him. She offered him power, and the promise that his reign would be as long as the Boardwalk stood. He accepted. With the contract signed, Antonio felt truly secure, and felt that he was finally coming into his reign. To his men, however, it looked like something different -- Antonio seemed to have given up his Catholicism in favor of older deities, and almost seemed proud and boastful where he'd once been steely and confident. And when the family started taking hits -- getting in too late on the drugs market, losing corners to the other families' prostitution rackets -- it all started to fall apart. Antonio struck out at his men, offered blood sacrifices to Hades and Persephone, and desperately tried to call back the strega who had struck the deal. That was pretty much the end of it. Antonio was killed by one of his soldiers in his own office. When he came to again, he found he was one of the few souls to be ferried across the River Styx by Charon in a long time. He was brought before the three judges of Hades -- Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus -- and sentenced to the black pits of Tartarus. Time passed; he had no idea how much. But one day, Antonio heard a voice in his ear, the voice of the strega: "I promised you a reign as long as the Boardwalk stood. The time of the working is complete. Prepare for parole." Later that day, Antonio was dragged before the three judges, to have the sins of his life reexamined. For the first time in centuries, there was a jailbreak in Hades. Drawing on the will of the strega, Antonio managed to knock the three judges unconscious. He looted the symbols of their office, broke his fellow prisoners from Tartarus, and stormed his way across the river, back to the place where he had made his bones. The Boardwalk was much changed... and was still continuing to change around him. By assuming the symbols of the judges, Antonio had effectively taken a portion of the Underworld with him. Unseen to the living, the spiritual reflection of the Boardwalk became a new place -- regal, primordial, and dead. Antonio had power, but over a kingdom of bones and steel. And he wouldn't have it any other way. Personality & Motivation: Antonio is genial, pleasant, open, and friendly to those who respect him -- be they guests, or people he believes are in his service. Underneath the pleasantries, however, lies an all-consuming desire to rebuild his kingdom -- be it out of the stuff of the Underworld, or mortal firmament. Everything else is just a mask -- Medea's deal kept him on as a ghost, all right, but most of the mojo went to keeping him tied to this earth and with a share of power. He's basically operating on basic drives, and he's willing to go pretty far to make sure he fulfills them. If his power is taken from him, he will find some way to get it back, no matter what he has to do. And then he will do what he always does -- begin the work anew. Complications: Obsession (reclaiming power over the Boardwalk) Enemy (the bondsmen of Hades) Abilities: 0 + 4 + (-10) + 4 + 6 + 6 = 10pp Str 10 (+0) Dex 14 (+2) Con - Int 14 (+2) Wis 16 (+3) Cha 16 (+3) Combat: 12 + 12 = 24pp Initiative: +6 (+2 Dex, +4 Improved Initiative) Attack: +6 (+10 ranged) Grapple: +0 Defense: +10 (+6 Base, +4 Dodge Focus), +3 Flat-Footed Knockback: -5 Saving Throws: 0 + 4 + 6 = 10pp Toughness: +10 (+0 Con, +10 Force Field) Fortitude: - Reflex: +6 (+2 Dex, +4) Will: +9 (+3 Wis, +6) Skills: 52r = 13pp Diplomacy 8 (+11) Gather Information 4 (+7) Intimidate 8 (+11) Knowledge (arcane lore) 6 (+8) Knowledge (civics) 8 (+10) Knowledge (streetwise) 6 (+8) Knowledge (theology and philosophy) 4 (+6) Sense Motive 8 (+11) Feats: 10pp Attack Focus 4 (Ranged) Improved Initiative Dodge Focus 4 Well-Informed Powers: 16 + 8 + 15 + 30 + 30 = 99PP Device 4 (Crown of Minos; Hard to Lose) (16 PP) Device 2 (Mask of Rhadamanthus; Hard to Lose) (8 PP) Device 5 (Scepter of Aeacus; Easy to Lose) (15 PP) Immunity 30 (Fortitude effects) (30 PP) Possession 10 (Flaws: Range (Touch)) (30 PP) Drawbacks: 0 + 0 + 0 = 0pp DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Mind Reading Perception DC20 Will Thoughts exposed Emotion Control Perception DC20 Will Shaken/overcome Possession Touch DC20 Will Possessed Snare 10 Ranged DC20 Reflex Bound/helpless Blast 10 Ranged DC25 Toughness Damaged (staged) Abilities (10) + Combat (24) + Saving Throws (10) + Skills (13) + Feats (10) + Powers (99) - Drawbacks (0) = 166pp

Nick shuddered, then pointed out the house in question. "There", he said. "A lot of dead addicts wanting to get in for a last fix. Gotta be the place. How do you guys want to handle the guards?"

Nick surveilled the street and all its ruin. How the hell did I not come here before? he thought to himself. I've been too focused on playing it safe... "Looks like the place," he said. "But somehow, I doubt going door to door is gonna work." Nick then turned his attention to scanning the street, looking for ghosts that might be drawn back to O'Hagan and his product.

"Ragnarok?" Nick asked. "Seriously? I know there's talk of the dead rising and sailing forth -- in ships made of toenails, at that -- so... this could be the advance brigade..." Nick took a second look over the wreckage of the crates. "I got more of a warlord vibe from my vision -- not quite setting everything on fire, but sacking, pillaging, lamentations of their women, stuff like that. Then again, most of my prophecy's auditory -- may be I'm not getting the full end of it."

There is a drop of blood on a field of peat. The blood washes into the earth, turning it to mud... and out of the mud walks an old warrior, clad in leather armor and clutching an axe. His face, however, is rotted and withered, like the pictures of the bog bodies attached to the manifest. The leather armor melts away, and is replaced by riot armor, just as the axe changes to a gold coin. The warrior spreads his palms; both are bleeding, not in stigmata, but as if cut across them. The blood drips down, washing over the coin in the right hand, and drips to the ground below. Where it lands, fingers begin to poke through the soil. The tableau shifts; where once there was a rotted field, there now stands a large tower, topped by a throne of iron that is crowned with chains and a mask. The warrior looks over the side of the tower; lines of what looks like blood flow up through the stone work, and one lies at the base of the throne. The warrior rips the chains off the throne, and the line that leads to it begins to recede. He takes his seat, and another line flows up -- thick and clotted.

The mask reformed into a tight-lipped frown -- not sadness so much as displeasure. "There was... a dispute. Someone beneath me thought they deserved more. He... is no longer in the picture. My associate established a contract, made sure I could rebuild without further problems." The mask reformed into a warmer expression. "And now here I am. In my own kingdom." "Seems like sound business," Nick said. "If you don't mind me asking, how was the contract put together?" The ghost shook his head. "Damned if I know," he said. "The ways of the strega are always strange."

The ghost chuckled. "It's been a long while," he said. "I was there on the ground floor. Helped this place get up on its feet. There was a brief... upset... with some of my employees, but my associate was able to help me reestablish control, in time. We were able to bring in new employees, and a whole string of customers." The ghost gestured over the room to the other almost mirthless souls. "Old friends and new, all with second chances."

Nick shook his head. "Because he may be bound," he said. "Like I said, those are symbols of office the pit boss is bearing. Odds are they may grant him more power over the dead. It's really not normal for a ghost to have something like that. If he starts trying to whammy us, we whammy him back, but for now... a little info into the 'why' of this little bit of Stygian real estate might be helpful." Nick walked up to the ghost with the crown. As he approached, the ghost turned; the mask he was wearing molded into a warm smile, almost like a comedy mask. "Ah, new guests," he said in a voice that flowed like warm oil. "Welcome to my humble abode. Everything to your liking?"

"It wasn't the caul, though I've met a few who've had it," Nick said. He was definitely looking over Dead Head with interest; research was one thing, but seeing him up close was another. Especially since the few revenants he'd run into thus far hadn't been as genial; most of them had vengeance on their mind, and not a lot of time for chat. "Got in an accident when I was younger. Spent a few minutes dead on the table, and while that happened, I was taking a guided tour of the various underworlds. Guinee, Duat, Nilfheim... I kinda got dragged back around the time I was staring into the river Lethe."

"Okay, 'integration' is the wrong word," Nick said. It's assimilation. And I don't mean like the Borg -- he's probably found a way to pass in society. Mortal identity, probably a job... like I said, he's not the rage Viking these guys were. He's part of the scenery now."

And here's the Precog roll for Banshee Wail. The book says a DC 15 gives you halting and choppy info, and... well, I got a 15. So, that happened.

"Yeah, it's possible," Nick said. "Let's see how receptive Atropos is feeling today..." Nick touched his fingers to the blood-stained fragment lying on the floor, went slack, and opened his mouth. Soon after, brief fragments came flowing out in a surreal death rattle. "Conquers still... blood and blood alike... coin and claw alike... the hidden throne..." The rattle subsided, and Nick came back to his senses. "And it looks like the Fates had other matters to deal with," he said. "Wasn't able to get a whole lot off the blood. But... it said 'coin.' I don't think we're looking for another rampaging beast. I think we're looking for someone who's managed to integrate themselves."

All right, after figuring out what was going on in chat... it's not so much historical as it is implied. Nick's hinting there may be another draugr out there who was behind the rising.

The best part of the ruling is the judge saying, "Y'know, if you wanted to make a historical Hellspawn, there were so many ways you could have done it -- a Portugese explorer, a companion to Odysseus, an American Indian warrior, an aristocrat in the Qing dynasty..." Someone get that judge a title at Image.

Nick smiled. "Trust me, I know a thing or two about tradecraft," he said. "As for the blood, there are a few ways it could've happened. Blood packets, or ritual sacrifice, or..." Worry crept over Nick's face. "Or someone decided to share a drink with some very old friends."