Shofet

True enough, she does.

IC OOC

OOC for the topic "the Sins We All Share". I suppose the first thing to do is to make a Gather Information on the Penitent's reputation to see how much you know.

GM May 02, 2012. 12:41AM Chico Morricone had always been a powerful man, and he knew it. He revelled in that power, drank it in, and imposed it on anyone he could. It didn't matter how, whether violently, or sometimes just financially, but he loved to know that there were people under his heel, people he made to feel helpless. It was what had brought him to the top, what had made him a force to be reckoned with in this city. Oh, sure, he wasn't a super, but he had influence, and sometimes influence was better than superpowers. Which was why this particular problem was rather unnerving. The painfully cold air of 3 miles above the Earth's surface stung his hands and face, and the roaring winds screamed in his ears. This time, he had no power as this strange creature that looked like it stepped outside of Hell kept its grip wrapped tightly around his throat, making his head even woozier with the already lethally thin air. "Please... Please, let's go down a bit... it's... it's too high." "Exactly the point, Chico. I don't want a soft landing for you." "But... why..." His vision was blurring. "Because you hurt people, Chico. You hurt people and you like it. Society doesn't need anymore of that, so I'm going to just remove the problem." "I... I can change... Please... don't kill me." "You can change, Chico. But you won't. So goodbye." "Please, Oh... Oh... God...!" The thing let go. Thankfully for Chico, he passed out before he hit the water. ~~~~~~~ May 03, 2012. 7:00pm Bram had been wondering why he was getting strange looks all day, and this situation wasn't helping. He held his face in his hands, sitting in the couch of Marlow, a friend of his whom he often helped move or lift things. "Bram... You're telling me you know nothing about this? I mean, I... I'm not gonna turn you in or nothin'. I like this turn of events. It's about time someone started wastin' these jerks." Bram looked up, grunting. "Goddamnit, Marlow! I don't kill! It's... Disgusting... wrong! Everyone has a chance to redeem themselves. Can't do that if someone kills you!" Bram watched as Marlow's eyes widened, and he seemed uncomfortable. "What? What did I do?" "Sorry, Bram... I just never heard you swear before, even with somethin' like a "damnit". Usually just "goshdarnit" or "dang"..." "Jesus, I'm sorry Marlow. Just... This isn't me. This is someone who looks like me, but isn't me. I don't know who it is." Marlow patted Bram on the back. "S'alright, man. I believe you, but..." He looked at the TV. "We have to wonder what we're going to do about that." The TV had a rather stern looking man with dark hair that had begun to grow grey at the temples. "The suspect of the attempted homicide of known crime-boss "Chico Morricone" has been officially announced as the "Penitent", a so-called hero who has brought the worst of the dark 80s mentality that once plagued our city back into the fore. This is just the first in the long string of attempted and successful homicides against criminals in our city, and worse, against two police officers in the line of duty..." The Penitent stared at the television. "...Crud."

"Of course not. You can't outrun Hell, kid. But, if Doomguy has taught us anything, you can beat it savagely until it doesn't get up anymore." The Penitent took another bite of his pie. "I don't figure this'll be easy, but there's always a chance to make things right, as I reckon. Heck, not the first time I've dealt with the spooky." He grinned. "And if you wanna make amends, well, I come from a community of sin-eaters. Now, I figure if I send a reccomendation, I could have them get you a proper education does not have to do with Satan. Might be good fer getting your life in order, and it's in the backwoods so if you angered anyone mighty fierce you could have somewhere to lay low. Of course, if stickin' around ain't your thing, I suppose you could get do some of the jobs they have down there that requires travel."

Fantastic!

Don't feel the need to leave just because someone more investigation-oriented shows up. I'm not limiting how many people can join.

Current Threads: The Shadow of the Evening You're a Wizard, Harry Completed Threads The Closed Circle Who's That Coming, From Somewhere Up in the Sky?

Alright, guys, since my first GMing is actually going pretty gosh-darned well, I figure I'd have a more general one with the Penitent actually in it. So, here's the gist: Someone has just arrived in Freedom City, and they're causing all sorts of misery within its borders for the criminal underworld, and it's pretty severe. A few well-known criminals have been found face down in the water, and many others have been put in Intensive Care due to their injuries. Worst yet, this person has been caught on camera, and he looks an awful lot like the newcomer, the Penitent. Things have come to a head when this violent individual has critically injured a few police officers who have tried to apprehend him. So now people are calling out (mistakenly, though your heroes might not know that) for the Penitent's blood, and this other guy is out causing more havoc. This would be open to any hero at all, really, and is an investigative RP as much as a combat one. Anyone interested?

1d20+8 means he is in-fact grappled. 1d20-1=5 Bummer, he's quite depressed now. So depressed, in fact, that he can't do anything at all.

He slipped back into English. "It was genocide on us." Suddenly, he shifted back into the old tongue. He shifted back into English once more. "None shall stop us. Victory is assured. We shall eat the flesh of the Horseriders while the Greatest shall consume the Horserider Gods who abandoned us and condemn them to having never existed. If we are to be the ones who fail, others will win. The Punishment is coming." He leaned forward. "So don't interfere if you value your existance outside of the Greatest's belly."

The Captain nodded to Lord Steam. "We got orders after leaving the Azores to go that way. It was from the top, so we felt obliged to listen. I mean, I don't normally like to cross those frostbitten waters up North, but it gets me back to Devon quicker so I can pop on a train to Canterbury to see my grandkids. That's all, really..." He stood. "But yes, I'll take you to Eric." He walked with them, his keys jingling, before coming to the storage closet. "I'll not be lookin' at him, I'm afraid, so I'll just a bit away. You two, feel free to talk to him as long as you want, but don't let Eric out no matter what he says to you. He's a savage and a liar. He'll do terrible things if he's freed." The door opened, and the sight inside was rather disturbing. Eric was a once-attratice young man in his twenties, that much was obvious, but he seemed unnaturally aged by emaciation and self-abuse. Deep bags hung under intense brown eyes, whose pupils had become eerily dilated, and his brown skin slightly greyed through stresses. More worrisome, however, were the strange symbols on his body, which to Wave-Eye read as "Kill the Horserider, the First People shall rise. In their extinction, we will find absolution. Flay their children, eat their old, no mercy for them for what they have done is unforgivable." Finally, he spoke, a madman's grin on his face. His language was odd, very odd, ancient even, and though Wave-Eye could understand and speak it, it seemed to have something about it that made it oddly difficult to speak easily. He leaned forward. ~~~~~~ Inside the bunks were two men, furiously wrestling with another, who was pleading with them in a thick Gwynned accent to not be taken too. The men seem not to listen, conversing amongst one another in a strange tongue neither of you can understand. They are both brandishing fire-axes, and are quite disheveled. Their clothes, similar to those of the other members of the ship, have been torn rather badly, and all their hair seems to have fallen out, as well as many of their teeth.

1d20+1=18 For Thugman one 1d20+1=14 Looks like these guys have good reaction times. You'll be fighting two Goons from CROOKS! Attack +5, Defense +3, Fort +3, Ref +1, Will -1. Feat: Toughness, Skills: Intimidate +4. So the moves are: Goon One: Unharmed Goon Two: Unharmed Blodeuwedd: Unharmed, 2 HP Kit: Unharmed, 1 HP Goon one doesn't even notice either, and Goon two definitely does not. Surprise round this time. Sorry for the mix-up

1d20=16

The Penitent looked at Harold, nodding and finishing his reuben, then flashing a smile to the waitress who refilled his coffee and handed him the slice of pie he had ordered. Taking a bite, he swallowed before beginning to speak. "Well that's just lovely. Deals with the devil, being turned into a tool by Satan," he took a deep drink of his coffee "Trying to kill people. All part of being a teenager I guess." He leaned forward. "Now, here's my question -- Giselle, the lovely young lady, said that he wanted to give me as a gift because I was... a prison as she said it. Now, I can understand the mistake and all, but the souls are willingly bound to m--" He shook his head as if shaking off some snow. "Sorry, missing my own point there. Why would she wanna give me as a gift to, er, uh, 'Teacher'?"

The Penitent Closed Circle 17 posts In the Shadow of the Evening 20 posts You're a Wizard, Harry 7 posts GM First and Final Voyage 7 posts Total: 51 posts

The Captain looked up at Lord Steam, nodding slowly. "Well... it started a few weeks ago... It's blurred a bit with the hunger and the fear... But we departed from Plymouth, in Devon, with new cargo. We were supposed to head here, then up to Halifax, and then we'd cross over to Reykjavik, and finally head to Galway City in Ireland before returning home. We took a different route on the way here... We... Um... We went down Portugal, passed a few small fishing towns there and picked up new cargo there as well to send to the Azores, which we dropped off at Ponta Delgada. They gave us some cargo, then we sailed to Bermuda, up to Miami, then to Myrtle Beach, then here." He rubbed his temples, sighing. "Then... We ended up here. Everything was going fine up until that point. We were moving at normal speeds, everyone was healthy... Then, suddenly, we just stopped moving. We tried to leave but we just couldn't bring ourselves to. We tried to manage everything, to stay sane, but the rations started running short, and about fifteen days... Was it sixteen maybe? I don't know... Well, that's... That's when men started disappearing. First, just at night, but then all the time. They always left the seafoam and the remains, which decomposed so, so quickly, it was unbelievable. We started to panic... One of us went mad. Eric. He strangled another sailor... who survived, but disappeared later that night... Eric, Eric was locked up in the broom closet. We feed him occasionally but he's so violent. He claws at us, says strange things, and he sometimes speaks in this strange language... It sounds like Basque, almost, but it's too guttural to be Basque and the grammar's off..." He looked up at Lord Steam. "Does that help? Does it help at all?"

Yeah, you notice. Both of you roll initiative.

And finally, that should do it. Changes made: [*:10epbift]Removed Concentration [*:10epbift]Changed the "Combat Array" to a Device instead of power. Hopefully I got it rather right this time.

"Scholomance?" The Penitent said inquisitively while wolfing down a reuben and washing it down with coffee. "Yeah, I heard of it" he said in between bites. Finally, swallowing, he put down the sandwich, and took one last deep drink of the coffee, staring across at Harold. "The way I heard it, it waaaaassss... Romanian legend. Some sorta school where people went to learn the evil sorta magic. Demons and dragons and all that lovely stuff." He cocked an eyebrow at Harold "You're telling me you're mixed up in that sorta stuff? He picked up the reuben again, and took a large bite out of it while his spirits seemed to roam a little more freely, with only a few keeping their wild eyes on the the people at the table; one was even in a face-making match with someone who could obviously see it.

1d20+4=11 Figures, since the Penitent isn't much of a spellcaster anyway. But since it's just a Theology and Philosophy roll, I'm gonna take ten. That should get me 18. (yet another error with my sheet I noticed!)

"Now, let's finish this up, shall we?" The Penitent rocketed off into the sky, saying only "Stay right there" over to the demon as he took off. Within a moment, everyone could hear his "Yeeee-haw!" as the Penitent suddenly hammered down onto the demon's head with his boot, driving its face into the cement. Unfortunately for it, the blow was not lethal, though it might wish it was later when it woke up. Jumping off the demon, the Penitent looked around. "Okay, is anyone conscious enough to explain to me exactly what happened? The way I heard it, it sounds you like Miss Giselle here and Harry are teenyboppers and there was something about... Teachers? Is this a school thing?"

The Penitent laughed at some of the questions, walking with a broad grin. "I'm not a demon. And as fer where I'm from, well, definitely not a Circle o' Hell. I'm from a little town in West Virginia. I just happen to look like a demon is all." He seemed unphased by the constant wondering of a demonic nature, something he had grown accustomed to by now. Finally, he cleared the line of reporters, telling them he was going to go buy himself some hot dogs with all the fixin's, save relish. He looked on as Weissnacht was carried off, and sighed. "Seems a bit of a shame a mind like his went sour like that. Maybe he'll turn around... Eh. Oh well. Well, he definitely wasn't a nerd." He looked back at his fellow heroes. "Anyone still interested in hot dogs? My treat."

1d20+5=20 Power stomp on Demon #3. DC 34 TOU check.

It is. You hear a very faint struggle going on near the bunks. It sounds like someone is fighting something else, and you can smell sea-salt.