trollthumper

"I don't think they did attempt reentry," said Nick. "And I didn't see any bodies on the way in. Place must have been empty." He paused. "Most obvious chain of events here would be: worker cuts his hand. Draugr wake up. Worker gets away or is torn to shreds. But I don't think a simple paper cut would wake them up -- it'd have to be something arterial, and even if he hit one of the minor veins, he'd probably be too woozy to escape." Nick turned back to Valkyrie. "I think someone broke in just to wake them up."

Nick caught a look at the expressions on the faces of Dragonfly and Drifter. Okay... note to self. Next time, think before calling upon the voice of dead ages during one of your team-ups. "My car's parked a block away," Nick said. "Seats four, and it's fairly clean."

"I'd probably recommend diplomacy, at this point," Nick said. "Guy doesn't seem like a psychopomp, or one of the major death gods, but we have no idea how much power he's packing. Those things look like symbols of office, and I don't know what sort of mojo is bound up in 'em. 'Sides, if we play it nice, we might found out how the hell he managed to do this."

Nick, Kid Cthulhu and Jerry went on their various paths, but after a while, they all began to notice the same figure walking through the crowd. He was shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with all the guests, who seemed to be animated in his presence but withdrawn once he left. He wore a suit with a cut from an earlier age, the kind of thing the higher class of businessman might have worn in the Forties. On top of that he wore a greatcoat draped over his shoulders like a trailing cloak. He might have looked like another ghost... if not for the strange accoutrements. His face was covered with a mask of burnished bronze; as Kid Cthulhu watched, the mask actually shifted to fit the face. While the mouth never opened, the lips rose into a smile and pressed into concern with the tone of the man's voice. A crown of broken obsidian and rusted iron sat upon his head, catching the light at strange angles. And in his hand, he held a scepter sculpted of black steel, bearing the general shape of a judge's gavel. "Yeah, I'd say there's the pit boss," said Nick. "And it looks like he brought some of the pit with him."

So, yeah, I just realized my character graduated from SCAD... and has no Knowledge (art). So, I'm going to spend 1 PP on 4 ranks of Knowledge (art), and also juggle 2 skill ranks from Disable Device into the same subset. So, the new spread will read: Disable Device 6 (+8) Knowledge (art) 6 (+8) Ecalsneerg'd

All right, I'm using my Banshee Wail power -- not the Emotion Control part, but the "read the past" part. Super-Senses lists Postcognition as having a Notice DC ranging from 15 (for vague and incomplete notions) to 30 (damn near complete comprehension). And I got a 28. Don't know if getting a natural 20 helps on a roll like this, but if it does, there it is. If you want to narrate what Nick finds, imagine it coming out of his throat in fits and spurts as if read off by someone with a perpetual death rattle.

"Well, I've got something approaching an idea," Nick said. He reached down to the ground and picked up the knife the thug had dropped. "There's a chance I might be able to get some sort of reading off of this, get a better sense of the wielder. If he had it about him when he met O'Hagan, there's a chance it might give me something." Nick relaxed as he held the knife in his hands, and opened his mind to the flow of ages.

"Yeah," Nick said. "One of the benefits of power over death -- you know when to shut it off." Valkyrie led the way into the brownstone. One of the first things that caught her attention was the relative lack of furnishings; barring a front office in what might have been a living room once upon a time, the rest of the house was filled with filing cabinets and crates. Some of the crates were half-open, revealing antiquities of various stripes. "I think I read about this in the paper," Nick said. "The History Museum bought out a house to serve as a second processing center for exhibits." In one of the back rooms, Nick and Valkyrie found three crates that appeared smashed open. Blood smeared large fragments that lay scattered across the floor. After a few minutes of searching, Nick found a clipboard hidden under one of the larger chunks. "Here we go," he said. "According to this, the museum got in a shipment of three 'bog bodies' dug up outside of Ostelm, Sweden. The bodies were on loan from a museum in Stockholm." Nick set the clipboard down. "They must have been laying inert until they were exposed to some blood."

Gonna be slightly busy this weekend -- running a LARP tonight, playing two LARPS tomorrow afternoon and evening, and sitting down to a TT Sunday afternoon. Will try to post where I can.

The clerk took a look over the books, operating somewhat by rote. "We do not usually allow pets," he said, ignoring the somewhat squamous nature of the "dog," "but I think we can make an exception in the case. Welcome to the Golden Plains, sir." Passing through the foyer, it became obvious that the only true "gold" in the Golden Plains was in the name. The main floor was iron and lead structures over the same gray marble as the entrance. On the main floor of the casino lay a suite of slot machines, cards tables, and wheels of fortune. The clinking of coins and the rattle of bells forms a cacophony, but something became clear over the din -- there didn't seem to be much cheer here. The gamblers seemed locked to the tables, operating out of obligation more than anything else. And at the center of the casino stood an obsidian throne, which lay empty and watched over the entire floor.

Why does she sound vaguely Shakespearean? "Nope," he said, "don't serve Loki. Don't really serve anyone. I've got friends amongst the psychopomps and death gods, but it's not like I plant my flag in any one camp. If I serve anything, I guess it's the idea of peace, in life and in death." He kicked the draugr at his feet. "Which is why I'm not exactly a huge fan of these things," Nick said. "We may want to find some way to take care of the bodies; don't remember all the details of the lore, but I think draugr have a tendency to come back." He then looked up to the broken door on the brownstone. "We may also want to figure out what they were doing here," he said.

Well, the draugr's stunned, so his Dodge bonus is denied and he takes a further -2 to Defense, so... yeah. You just managed to hit, and knock his block off.

Nick slowly tried to regain control of his functions. "Thanks for the offer," he said, "but I think I might walk." The two made their way to the casino, and the further they got from the boardwalk, the clearer the sound of ringing machines and clinking coins became. The door to the casino was fairly unguarded, with no obvious doorman. The two entered, and were greeted with a cold marble foyer, gray shot through with veins of a strange red. At the counter, a clerk stood -- a strange clerk, one with sallow skin and a hairstyle that likely went out of style in the 1500s. He wore the jaunty red cap of a bellboy, only it was the color of fresh blood -- and coupled with a strange sort of double-breasted padded robe of the same color. "Guests?" he asked.

Nick blinked. Lots of tentacles, he thought. Why am I not surprised? He reached out his hand and gently shook Jerry's tentacle, not wanting to know where it had been or what it might have probed. "Does he do tricks?"

The further Kid Cthulhu got from the shore, the more the strange static of the dead surf faded. Other things started to play on his senses up in the sky -- the strange half-light of the burned-out stars, and the weird howling of the wind. But above all that, he could hear something else: the clinking of slot machines, down in one of the ruined casinos. ------ Down on the docks, Nick felt the grip of dead memories flowing through him. It wasn't as tight as it could be, but it would have to make do... "He wears judgment like a vestment," the strange voice of ages spoke. "From pits ill-chained... the kings denied... roll out the lead carpet... the right hand broken, the left hand cutting... he builds a rotted throne of old driftwood." With that, the strange susurrus cut out, and Nick looked up as Kid Cthulhu touched down. "Well, it looks like there's someone here," he said. "Bad news is, he seems to have something of an ego."

The Hammer of the Gods came down on the head of the luckless draugr with a sound like dynamite hitting a rack of ribs. Bone shatterd as the rampaging corpse collapsed to the ground, an almost cartoonish dent gouged in its forehead. On the hood of the police car, Nick willed the ectoplasm that flowed through him outward. He felt the familiar chill as it congealed and hardened on his hands; when he drew them up from the hood, they were shaped in the familiar barbarous talons he'd learned how to craft after his trip to Irkalla. "Guess what?" he said as he reared around to his attacker. "You're not the only one who knows how to play caveman." Nick drove his talons right into the chest of the draugr, aiming right for the heart. Okay, so it's not a vampire, but the heart works on a lot of things. The splintering of bone and the shredding of tissue told Nick he'd found his mark, and the beast tried to keep its footing as Nick drew out the claws, which were covered in a thick, muddy ichor. Note to self: Wash hands before returning to work.

Draugr 2 Well, the attack connected, so... Toughness Save: A flat 14, which means it, too, is a pile of inert meat. Fortitude Save: Again, not necessary. Which means, we enter Round 3, with only one Draugr still on its feet. And Nick will see if he can do something about that, shifting his active power from Deny the Reaper to Ereshkigal's Talons. Nick Attack: 19, which beats the DC 16 of the draugr's defense. And the Talons are both Strike 12 and have Penetrating 5 for good measure, so they get plenty of gouging. Now, let's see how the draugr does... Draugr 1 Toughness: And that's a 16 versus a DC 28. As it failed the save by 12, it is Staggered, Disabled, and Stunned, which means it is unable to act this round.

Yes, except the draugr have Strike 4... with Penetrating 4. Which means Impervious goes down to 6. EDIT: But then I realized that the draugr do not have the Mighty Feat, which means they only apply the +4 damage bonus from Strike 4. Which means no gougy action.

"As long as we're going round, the name's Nick Cimitiere," Nick said. "As I said to our departed friends, I got the lead off of a ghost. Kid likely OD'd on the stuff." Nick shook his head. "Don't suppose we've got an idea where this O'Hagan is, do we?"

Well, given the bonus, that would be a 32 on the Intimidation rolls. I think the lead guy may have wee'd himself a little.

Nick smiled -- with the painted-on skeletal rictus, it was something of a sight to behold. "Glad to see you've decided to be reasonable," he said. "As I was saying earlier, I ran into this kid down on the Boardwalk. Young, black, skull T-shirt, sunken eyes, the shakes... what else...?" Nick leaned in close to the lead thug. "Oh, that's right," he said. "He was dead. But he told me where I could find his suppliers. So, imagine my surprise when I see you guys, and another kid with the same symptoms. So... mind telling me what you dirtlickers are pushing, or you gonna try telling me that kid got the wrong number?"

Nick paused when the gun comes out. He tried to remain cool, then stared the dealer down. He opened his mouth, and out came a sound like language mixed with clashing hammers. "Lock." Nick heard the gun's safety jamming up as it wrestled with the order. "Now," said Nick, "I recommend you set that thing down. Someone could easily get hurt."

All right, according to the chat room, Slick's not waiting and Drifter's holding, so Nick's going to spend one of those HP and stunt a new spell off his necromancy array: Nullify (machines) 10. First, to hit: 29. Yeah, I'd say that works. And, if we're doing opposed Will saves... then the guy needs to beat 15.

Well, let's see if Nick manages to do it: Well, that's a 30, I'd say that does it. And, just in case I need it, my Initiative is on 10.

Nick kept to the darkness, ducking between alley ways. The streets of Freedom were back under his feet now, but Southside wasn't exactly familiar territory. Even before getting into the hero racket, he'd never had much reason to come here. But then he met the boy with the skull T-shirt down at the edge of the boardwalk. He was mostly nonverbal, and didn't even seem to realize he was dead. He just kept gasping and scratching his skin; Nick had been around enough ghosts who'd overdosed to recognize the signs of a very bad trip. After managing to get through to the kid, all he'd gotten was a pointed finger towards Southside. He'd spent a few nights prowling the streets, coming up dry -- the usual crack and heroin, but nothing that seemed to generate the reaction Nick had seen in the kid. Then he came across the dealers... and saw their customer, already beginning to experience some of the same symptoms as the ghost on the boardwalk. Trying to hold down his anger, Nick tried to figure out how to tackle the matter. And then the guy with the bandanna came leaping down from the rooftops. The more the merrier, he thought. Nick drew his will together and slipped to the mouth of the alley. "Evening, gentlemen," he said. "I've got an old customer who wants to have a long talk with you."