trollthumper

And time to try my luck with the Postcognition element of Banshee Wail: That would be a 17. So, it's going to be a success, but very, very vague.

"Well, it's definitely not going to hurt," said Nick. "Keep your eyes out for sound, movement, and strange patterns -- first thing we need to do is figure out if we're alone here." As Kid Cthulhu took off to the sky, Nick kneeled down at put his fingers to the rotted wood. He let his mind go slack, and opened himself to the flow of memories.

And on the draugr matter... I will give the history bonus to you. If these were Sumerian zombies, you'd be SOL, but they're Norse, so... here's what Valkyrie knows. Draugr are strange undead, usually restless warriors who live for the kill. Some myths portray them as closer to zombies, while some portray them as vampires, complete with a fleet of unknown powers. Whatever the case, they generally bear a corpse-like appearance (be it milky pale or rotted), feast on the blood and flesh of the living (which would explain Cop #1), and are rumored to have the power to drive animals and humans mad (which would explain Cop #2).

Valkyrie's blow took the shriveled warrior right under the chin, and the snap of bones was drowned out by the roar of thunder. The walking corpse seemed to fight the strength of the blow... at least, until he collapsed into a pile at the feet of the Chooser of the Slain. "Nilfheim just doesn't make 'em like they used to!" Nick said, focusing his effort on the cop. He could feel something calling to the man, the draw of thanatos... Call back later, will you? Nick stuck his hands on the cop's chest. The cop's body arched as Nick could feel the tie to the other side lessen. He could feel ectoplasm suffusing the cop's body, stimulated by the vital sympathy, knitting together tissue. Soon, the wound was stopped, with just a small scar to indicate where it had been. Nick's moment of rest was interrupted by a roar from the other draugr. He felt fists the size of Thanksgiving hams driving into the back of his jacket, pushing him onto the hood of the cop car. Aside from being a little stirred, however, he was fine; the jacket had done its job. "Do you mind?" yelled Nick. "I'm working here!" The other draugr ran to the side of its fallen colleague and leapt upon Valkyrie, his claws scraping to find purchase beneath her armor. She felt the claws of the beast touch home...

Well, on the Defense matter, I did it as opposed rolls. Defense is supposed to be a static DC 10 + Defense rating. As for the Mjolnir blow... assuming that Mjolnir retains the same make-up as it does in the myths (none of that "uru" stuff from Marvel), the Toughness roll of the withered meatsack is 17, so... yeah. He's out. And yet, he beats the DC 17 on the basic Knockback of the attack, so he remains on his feet until his neck snaps. That takes us into Round Two... where Nick is going to spend his entire round making sure that the cop with the neck wound recovers from his injury. Which he does, as Nick rolled a 22 on the DC 10 check to stabilize the dying man. And now come the draugr... Draugr 1: Natural 20 on an attack against Nick. It's super effective! This ups the Toughness save to DC 26, and... he just makes it with a 27. Draugr 2: 24 on an attack against Valkyrie, which beats Valkyrie's flat DC 13 (18 - 5 from AOA). The Toughness save on the attack is DC 21.

"I suppose so," Nick said, "but... well, it doesn't seem right. This may be a killing field for the mob, but... everything here's got this twisted, mythic quality. Like it's not just a dark mirror; it's like it's actually becoming part of the Underworld. Usually that requires a lot more death." "There's got to be," Nick said. "Underworlds usually aren't self-sealing. There's got to be some sort of exit..."

Okay, so Nick goes first, attempts to use Poltergeist's Rage... and fails miserably, rolling a 1. And next up are the foes, who take advantage of Nick running right into their midst: Guy 3: 10 on Attack. Whiff. Guy 2: 12 on Attack. Whoosh. Guy 3: 22 on Attack, which means it hits, and Nick has to beat a DC21 attack... and does, handily. And with that, it's Valkyrie's turn. EDIT: And after talking it out in chat, I realized that I got Defense entirely, horribly wrong. Corrected for such.

The freaks would be easy to take down... but Nick was more worried about the cop. Even at this distance, Nick could watch the man's blood spurting out. Unlike vampires, these guys didn't have a coagulating effect. Which means that if I don't act fast, that cop's gonna bleed out... Nick drew together his will and tried to fling the rampaging warriors to the ground... only to feel his concentration snap in two. "Damnit!" he shouted, unable to help himself. Without any other option, Nick barged forward, bracing for the storm of blows. They came at him from all sides. Nick drew his jacket tight, preparing for the brace of blows. Surprisingly, Nick felt no connection; either he'd gotten really, really good at this, or these guys were still woozy and confused. He felt the claws of one of them rake across the back of his jacket, but it was treated for tougher things than this. He made his way to the wounded cop when the crack of a thunderbolt knocked him askew. He turned, and saw a valkyrie standing amongst the gathered beasts. Valkyrie... angry undead... hey, worth a go... With that, Nick shouted out to the chooser of the slain: "Draugr! They're draugr!"

Well, with a 17 on a Knowledge (arcane lore roll) Nick at least knows what these guys are, but with a 27 on the Notice check, I think we can rule out any possibility of Nick's meager Stealth rank making a difference here, so... battle is joined! Guy 1: 4 Guy 2: 6 Guy 3: 15 Nick: 21

Valkyrie found herself on the roof of a brownstone three blocks over, her arrival heralded by a din -- the crack of thunder, the wail of police sirens, and the rapport of bullets blending together. As she gained her bearings, however, one sound cut through the chaos -- an inhuman bellowing. Looking downward, she could easily see the source of the roar. Three men were gathered at the steps leading up to one of the brownstones. No, she couldn't call them "men"; all they bore was the rough shape. They were taller and thicker than even the mightiest warrior, but the mass was not entirely natural -- they had their share of muscle, yes, but the rest seemed bloated, even swollen. They were clad in ruined leather and rotted cloth, and whatever bare skin they had was the color and texture of shriveled oak bark. The police cruiser lay still and wailing, its engine appearing almost smashed in. One police officer lay against the side of his cruiser, his gun resting on the ground and nonsense bubbling forth from his lips. The other was being held against the dented hood of the car, with two of the raving warriors holding him down. To Valkyrie's surprise, the men reached down and bit into the sides of the officer's neck. As blood splashed out over their lips, their skin evened out, with the brown receding and the texture becoming smooth. Even as they became something more human, they were still utterly unnatural -- one had skin the color of spoiled milk, and the other skin as black as a festering wound. As they feasted, their companion let out a boastful howl. -------- Running down a back alley, Nick heard the ear-splitting howl. He rushed forward as fast as he could, and when he came to rest, he had a front row seat for the carnage. Great, he thought. Okay, obviously undead, thirst for blood... but vampires don't usually get to do stuff like this during the daytime... wait... are they...? That was when the lone warrior perked up, his nose sniffing the air. Suddenly, his eyes locked on the mouth of the alley. He pointed his figure and shrieked, and Nick didn't need to be an expert in the habits of the undead to know what it was. A warning cry. All right, then. Let's dance.

I'd say responding to the sirens sounds like a good idea. And given the volume of the sirens, I'd reduce that to a DC 10 at this point, so you're cool. Keep the hero point.

"Yeah, I know," Nick said. "Dealing with the child ghosts is the hardest. Most of the time it's just accidents, and they seem okay -- even if they've already realized they're dead, some of them try to treat death like the next great adventure. No rules, no grown-ups, no bedtime -- even if you miss your mom and dad, you're still one of the Lost Boys." Nick shook his head. "But then you get the ones who didn't go simply, or by accident." Fury licked out beneath the grim tone of his voice. That seemed to say everything.

Nick took a look over the wreckage of the boardwalk. "Looks like," he said. "Now, I'll admit... I'm not entirely sure what this is... but I've got a pretty good idea." Nick walked out onto the boardwalk and looked back to the casinos. They looked like the wrecks of decayed temples, guarded by alabaster idols and strewn with strange offerings. "Most religions with an underworld in them believe there's an entrance somewhere on Earth. The Romans had the crater of Avernus, the Mayans had the cenotes... even Dante spoke of a vestibule at the end of a dark forest, and no, I have no idea if he actually went downstairs, so don't ask. There's more than resonance there. There are... low places to the earth. Places that act as tuning forks, forming gateways to the various Underworlds. Sometimes through geography, sometimes through reputation, and sometimes... through action. Sometimes, a place gets so dipped in blood and death that it forms... an addition to the Underworld. Somewhere not quite there, but not quite here, usually just outside of human perception."

Just remember, if you're afraid of going too "Cartoon All-Stars to the Rescue" here, the general tone of FCPbP is somewhere around the Bronze Age. As in, the era of "My sidekick is a JUNKIE!" Don't feel afraid to approach the realities of drugs. Plus, there have been sessions on this board where heroes have to take care of junkies who OD'd and then were reanimated by zombie powder, so feel free to get fantastic if you wish.

"Yeah," Nick said. "Oh." He walked the path backwards through the haunted house -- not just because he didn't want to know what was at the end, but because he suspected that if there was a way out, it wasn't through there. As he suspected, the house was now empty -- whatever barkers had haunted the halls had either cleared out while the clearing was good, or... ...or they weren't in on it, Nick thought. If people randomly went missing in the haunted house, someone would put it together eventually. This has to be fresh, whatever it is. In time, Nick found the entrance to the haunted house, and what he found pretty much confirmed everything. The boardwalk had been left behind for what looked like a twisted reflection. The wood was rotting and splintering under his feet, and it was only by some strange fortitude that it didn't break and send him plummeting into the black surf below. The roller coaster was a fine piece of wreckage, a train resting on its side under a pile of bare and rusted pipes. And he couldn't tell at this distance, but he swore the horses on the carousel were rearing and frozen in slient snarls. "Okay, then," Nick said. "We're still on the boardwalk. It's just... different."

And just in case it's needed, I'm pretty sure Nick noticed whatever is happening.

"Hey, not a problem," Eric said, gesturing to a table in the corner, seated right beneath the vents. "On a day like this, I can't blame you." As Vivian took her seat, Eric was buffeted by the feeling of a chill. And it wasn't just because the AC had chosen that moment to enter its next phase of activity -- no, this was the greasy chill that came with the essence of death. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the sound of police sirens split the air. Great, Eric thought. Has to be on this shift, too. Luckily, at that moment, Clarissa had just entered from the alley. As she approached the counter, Eric said, "Hey, Clarissa. Taking my twenty." With that, he ducked out of the coffee shop and into the alley. After making sure that no one else was entering, he found a door frame that provided some measure of cover and drew the shadows over. Before they had even faded, Nick Cimitiere was running down the alleyway, trying to find the source of distress.

Eric swiftly turned from the drinks counter to the register. "Should be $3.75," Eric said. "But seeing as you're a first timer, I can knock it down to $3. No big deal. Always helps to make the new customers welcome." And not just the good-looking ones. Though that's a nice bonus.

"Oh, a couple of years," Eric said as he topped off the latte and sprinkled in the nutmeg. "Started it in high school, carried it on in college, and, well, here I am. It's just become one of those things, like riding a bike or swimming. You put me behind an espresso machine, and it's like I'm at home." Eric slipped a lid onto the latte and placed it down on the counter before Vivian. "Here you go," he said. "Let's see if it works."

Eric nodded; he was no stranger to complexities. He still remembered the customer from his sophomore year who wanted the coffee dusted with cayenne powder and toffee bits. "No problem, miss," he said, grinding the beans and sliding the filters into the machine. As the espresso tamped out into the pitchers, he prepped the glass with two shots of vanilla and began to steam the milk. "Don't think I've seen you around before," Eric said, scooping the excess foam off into the sink. "First time in, or new regular?"

The OOC counterpart, for when things go wonky.

The Black Petal Cafe was one of the hidden gems of Riverside. It was situated in a back alley off of Brook Street, the kind of back alley that probably could not be intimidating even if you were being mugged in it. Unlike other corners of Riverside, the alley was not kept warm by the sheer flow of gentrification effort cash, but by the sense of being well-loved and well-tended. Even the graffiti took on the tone of a children's mural or an ad-hoc art project. It was one of Eric LaCroix's favorite places in Freedom, by dint of both atmosphere and experience. He'd been slinging coffee at the Black Petal for a year and a half before he went to college, and even after he left, Mara had always made sure to keep him on call if there was a need for a seasonal position. Before setting out for his return to Freedom, he'd given a call to Mara, and was both surprised and flattered to find there was still a position waiting for him behind the espresso machine. Maybe it wasn't the highest calling in town, but in his mind, it was the kind of thing that kept the machinery of the city flowing, and he was happy to find a place where he could be himself. The air conditioning was blowing in at somewhere around the front gates of Nilfheim as Eric worked behind the counter. The east coast heat waves were starting up again, and with it, the muggy weather. The vast majority of orders he got were for iced drinks, mainly because it would be suicide for anyone to try drinking hot coffee in such humidity. Clarissa was on her smoke break, so Eric was juggling the register and the espresso machine at the same time. It wasn't a burden for him; he was glad to be in the rhythm of things. "Welcome to the Black Petal," he said, turning to the next customer. "How can I help you today?"

Nick walked forward to the barker manning the house. "Hey," he said, ""I'm going to need two tickets for --" "You're kidding me, right?" said the barker, smiling wildly. "Heroes are on the house! Come on in, sirs, and see what awaits!" "Hey, thanks!" Nick said. The barker scrambled down from his stand, pulled back the velvet cordon -- a strange touch for a haunted house -- and ushered Nick and Kid Cthulhu inside. The house had pretty good production values for what it was -- the blood dripping on the walls had a consistency that outmatched the usual corn syrup, and some of the paintings made it clear that one of the designers had at least done their research. Some of the gimmicks, though, were a bit tame -- the usual mishmash of low-paid carnival workers rushing through behind stage, slamming doors and leaping out. Not bad for what it is, thought Nick, but I bet people had seen a lot scarier in this town. Unless they managed to get a zombie on a leash from the last rise... nah, I'm sure Dead Head would wreck the place in the name of solidarity if that happened. At the center of the house was a giant maze. Nick could feel a breeze passing through; he looked up through a gap in the walls to see the night sky above them. He let Kid Cthulhu take the lead as they walked through the passages. Here, he could hear the usual tricks -- the banging, the shuffling, the moaning -- but whoever was behind it, they definitely had the intonation down. The place was actually starting to get to Nick... No. No it wasn't the place. There was something else -- this slow, building dread that was crawling up around him. This sense of being pushed along, like a cattle entering a slaughterhouse. He hadn't felt like this since... ...since the Winchester House. With that, there was a sudden sliding under Nick's feet, like the ground was rolling away beneath him. The writing on the walls seemed to shift -- no, the walls themselves were shifting, unfolding like an origami crane. It was hard to focus, hard to -- Stop. Nick drew upon his will and attempted to drown out whatever death magic was doing this. Slowly, the disorientation faded away. He couldn't feel the effect break, however; either he'd managed to demolish it without effort, or whatever was going down had finished up. Catching his bearings, Nick took a look up and saw the night sky. Under red stars. "Yeah," Nick said, "definitely asking for a refund."

Nick nodded his head; it was a testament to the industrial strength of pomade that his hairstyle remained untouched. "Yeah," he said. "Been a while since I've been on a coaster. At least they still make them like they used to." He spots something down at the corner of the pier that catches his fancy. "Y'know," Nick said, "it's been a while since I've been in a haunted house..."

"Definitely," Nick said. "The clubs in the West End, the cafes in Riverside, Pyramid Plaza... it's one hell of a place to be." Nick took a look up at the rickety wooden coaster, the kind of thing that had made him quiver in fright as a little kid. Now, it just looked like a challenge. "Yeah, why not?" he said. "Let's hit the rails."