I'm gonna be honest, I'm stuck on the backstory. I know that, given the way his powers work, Ken's going to be focusing on grappling during fights so he can actually make use of his strength.
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Sometimes, even an adventurer needs a backrub.
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I'm interested, and also starting a timer until Archmage MC shows up wanting to use "Toonforce."
Honestly, I've always been fond of Urban Arana, which is pretty much "D&D in the modern day." Cars can get magic paintjobs that let them travel along electrical lines, wizards e-mail their enemies .hex files to curse their hard drive, civic construction projects sometimes dig into ancient forgotten dungeons, and all sorts of other fun stuff. I think I've got the book somewhere on my hard drive if you want.
Alternatively, X-Crawl gives the same sort of "modern fantasy" thing while including dungeon crawling as an extreme sport, giving the players a chance to get corporate sponsorships and travel around the world.
Alternatively, X-Crawl gives the same sort of "modern fantasy" thing while including dungeon crawling as an extreme sport, giving the players a chance to get corporate sponsorships and travel around the world.
Well yeah, but that's Geoff Johns.
@Ruby
What's your policy on killing? Can I kill another PC, or should I ask for the user's permission first?
Yeah, because Krot and I intend on being pretty ruthless in our methods of reaching Batman. If there's a permission to kill rule, we'll likely wind up asking and being refused very, very often.
...Yes, asking before killing other people's characters is generally considered good etiquette. It's why LDM didn't just buy an ICBM and blow up Gotham.
So yeah, there's a Lord Death Man post. Better late than never, I guess!
The False Face Society. The elite enforcers of Black Mask's crime syndicate. Those who threw away their old identities to don the masks, to sublimate personality and remove inhibition, and awaken darker, primitive instincts. Quite often had they tangled with the Bat. Even they had come to fear the Dark Knight. And now, some of Black Mask's boys were talking about actual, literal monsters kicking around skid row. Well, that wasn't going to stand. There was exactly one guy the people there needed to fear, and it wasn't some huge red fuckwit with a baseball bat or some dancing asshole with a gold mask. But... if it WAS the bat, there was reason for Black Mask to fear.
And that's why, as two men in matching skeleton-print ski masks brought something down on the back of his head, he would probably be thankful it was a half a brick in a sock and not a Batarang that knocked his toady out.
---
Gotham, a Low-Rent Apartment.
<<"Can you believe what these Americans charge for bread?">>
<<"I know, man. Don't they have it with every meal? Like... burgers, sandwiches, toast, all that shit?">>
<<"Hey, I think he's waking up.">>
<<"You did well, boys. Go ahead and watch the door.">>
<<"Might not be too helpful, Lord Death Man. I read somewhere you can get serious brain damage if you get knocked out.">>
<<"I'll manage.">>
As the masked enforcer came to, Death Man sat in a recliner next to a sink in the kitchen/living room/bathroom of this run-down apartment complex. To his left, a cooler full of glass bottles filled with dark liquid, and in his right hand, the enforcer's pistol, which he twirled on his finger.
"Hah! Finally awake. I heard you Americans like to sleep in, so figured I let you come to on your own."
It didn't take long for the masked man to begin struggling. Lord Death Man chuckled.
"Now, before we get into the boring part, we get the basics out of the way. First of all, you're chained up, for obvious reasons, so stop flailing. Second, I can respect the need for anonymity in our field of work. That's why you're still wearing that... what the hell is that, a capybara? A horse?"
"Fuck you, Charlie, that's what it is."
"Aaaaand strike one."
Lord Death Man took the pistol and whipped one of the water taps, sending it spinning and steaming water flowing out.
"What's that suppo-"
"Shh. Let the shitty plumbing do its work."
It didn't take long for the thug to see what Death Man meant as the pipes began glowing red hot. This was a flaw in many buildings with old plumbing.
"Now, third: I'm going to torture you for information. That's why you're chained to the water pipes. Now, normally, anyone would do for this, but Black Mask went and stole the gimmick I've been using for nearly a century. And I can forgive his taste in fashion, but unoriginality?"
"AAAAH! AAAAAAAGH!"
"Glad to see you agree!"
Death Man spun the hot water the other way, turning it off. The pipes rapidly cooled as he took a bottle from the cooler, the telltale hiss of cola as he popped the top off and drained it through his mask.
"You know, normally, I'd go on a long rant, but you see my English is... subpar. So we skip to the good stuff. Tell me what I can't get from the papers."
Lord Death Man took another swig.
"Tell me what's what in this shithole's criminal underworld, the..." Death Man sighed and thumbed through a Japanese-to-English dictionary. "...Spookiest places of Gotham, and most importantly... how do I hurt the Batman."
"You really think I'm go-"
The mook held his tongue as Death Man raised his hand over the hot water tap, the raised eyebrow almost visible.
"...You want the spookiest places in Gotham? Arkham and Slaughter Swamp. More death and sorrow there than anywhere in town."
"See? We might just get out of here without... a texan standoff? That's the word for an insurmountable difference, right?" Death Man shrugged, drinking more of his cola. "Now, the Batman's probably changed his MO in the last decade. Normally I'd just rob a couple banks, see who shows up with him. But robberies take time, need henchmen, you know, the works."
"Oh, that I'll give you for free. He's got these kids who he pals around with. The Robins. EVERYONE wants those brats dead."
"Ugh, tell me about it! Child crimefighters are the worst. You can't even break their legs or some activist is bitching at you for six hours!"
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"Strike two." Death Man spun the faucet again, throwing back a cola. "You've got about forty-five seconds. I suggest you tell me what's going on in the underworld.
A few moments of silence, before Lord Death Man noted the smell of burning flesh.
"Jokerz, man! A bunch of jackasses dressed like clowns. And uh... and there's Cobblepot, he runs the Iceberg Lounge... uh... Two-Face nad Black Mask... and... oh, fuck this, just let me go you spandex-wearing shi-"
A silenced gunshot, straight to the throat, cut him off. He looked down, fruitlessly, as Lord Death Man turned and left.
<<"Strike three, you're out.">>
---
Lord Death Man tossed the thug's pistol into the garbage, dragging the wheeled cooler behind him. The grunts were waiting with his dramatic cape as he stepped into the hall.
<<"You get what you needed, Lord Death Man?">>
<<"As much as you can get out of a two-bit thug.">>
Lord Death Man and his men hurried downstairs and into the back of the car, an older model of Honda. A man built like a brick house with red eyes sat behind the wheel, awaiting orders. The henchmen began to remove the skeletal suits over their body, revealing more typical garb underneath- T-shirts, shorts, and shoes built for performance. Lord Death Man, however, put something on over his costume- more typical Yakuza boss duds. A nice suit, a silk shirt, and a nice watch. He popped his neck and removed the mask, thankful for the tinted windows and shadowy car.
<<"Take us downtown, Shiro. I could KILL for some barbecue right now.">>
And that's why, as two men in matching skeleton-print ski masks brought something down on the back of his head, he would probably be thankful it was a half a brick in a sock and not a Batarang that knocked his toady out.
---
Gotham, a Low-Rent Apartment.
<<"Can you believe what these Americans charge for bread?">>
<<"I know, man. Don't they have it with every meal? Like... burgers, sandwiches, toast, all that shit?">>
<<"Hey, I think he's waking up.">>
<<"You did well, boys. Go ahead and watch the door.">>
<<"Might not be too helpful, Lord Death Man. I read somewhere you can get serious brain damage if you get knocked out.">>
<<"I'll manage.">>
As the masked enforcer came to, Death Man sat in a recliner next to a sink in the kitchen/living room/bathroom of this run-down apartment complex. To his left, a cooler full of glass bottles filled with dark liquid, and in his right hand, the enforcer's pistol, which he twirled on his finger.
"Hah! Finally awake. I heard you Americans like to sleep in, so figured I let you come to on your own."
It didn't take long for the masked man to begin struggling. Lord Death Man chuckled.
"Now, before we get into the boring part, we get the basics out of the way. First of all, you're chained up, for obvious reasons, so stop flailing. Second, I can respect the need for anonymity in our field of work. That's why you're still wearing that... what the hell is that, a capybara? A horse?"
"Fuck you, Charlie, that's what it is."
"Aaaaand strike one."
Lord Death Man took the pistol and whipped one of the water taps, sending it spinning and steaming water flowing out.
"What's that suppo-"
"Shh. Let the shitty plumbing do its work."
It didn't take long for the thug to see what Death Man meant as the pipes began glowing red hot. This was a flaw in many buildings with old plumbing.
"Now, third: I'm going to torture you for information. That's why you're chained to the water pipes. Now, normally, anyone would do for this, but Black Mask went and stole the gimmick I've been using for nearly a century. And I can forgive his taste in fashion, but unoriginality?"
"AAAAH! AAAAAAAGH!"
"Glad to see you agree!"
Death Man spun the hot water the other way, turning it off. The pipes rapidly cooled as he took a bottle from the cooler, the telltale hiss of cola as he popped the top off and drained it through his mask.
"You know, normally, I'd go on a long rant, but you see my English is... subpar. So we skip to the good stuff. Tell me what I can't get from the papers."
Lord Death Man took another swig.
"Tell me what's what in this shithole's criminal underworld, the..." Death Man sighed and thumbed through a Japanese-to-English dictionary. "...Spookiest places of Gotham, and most importantly... how do I hurt the Batman."
"You really think I'm go-"
The mook held his tongue as Death Man raised his hand over the hot water tap, the raised eyebrow almost visible.
"...You want the spookiest places in Gotham? Arkham and Slaughter Swamp. More death and sorrow there than anywhere in town."
"See? We might just get out of here without... a texan standoff? That's the word for an insurmountable difference, right?" Death Man shrugged, drinking more of his cola. "Now, the Batman's probably changed his MO in the last decade. Normally I'd just rob a couple banks, see who shows up with him. But robberies take time, need henchmen, you know, the works."
"Oh, that I'll give you for free. He's got these kids who he pals around with. The Robins. EVERYONE wants those brats dead."
"Ugh, tell me about it! Child crimefighters are the worst. You can't even break their legs or some activist is bitching at you for six hours!"
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"Strike two." Death Man spun the faucet again, throwing back a cola. "You've got about forty-five seconds. I suggest you tell me what's going on in the underworld.
A few moments of silence, before Lord Death Man noted the smell of burning flesh.
"Jokerz, man! A bunch of jackasses dressed like clowns. And uh... and there's Cobblepot, he runs the Iceberg Lounge... uh... Two-Face nad Black Mask... and... oh, fuck this, just let me go you spandex-wearing shi-"
A silenced gunshot, straight to the throat, cut him off. He looked down, fruitlessly, as Lord Death Man turned and left.
<<"Strike three, you're out.">>
---
Lord Death Man tossed the thug's pistol into the garbage, dragging the wheeled cooler behind him. The grunts were waiting with his dramatic cape as he stepped into the hall.
<<"You get what you needed, Lord Death Man?">>
<<"As much as you can get out of a two-bit thug.">>
Lord Death Man and his men hurried downstairs and into the back of the car, an older model of Honda. A man built like a brick house with red eyes sat behind the wheel, awaiting orders. The henchmen began to remove the skeletal suits over their body, revealing more typical garb underneath- T-shirts, shorts, and shoes built for performance. Lord Death Man, however, put something on over his costume- more typical Yakuza boss duds. A nice suit, a silk shirt, and a nice watch. He popped his neck and removed the mask, thankful for the tinted windows and shadowy car.
<<"Take us downtown, Shiro. I could KILL for some barbecue right now.">>
Now, in fairness, Dinosamba Red was literally Jesus. The team was just tagalongs.
@knighthawk ...How did you get into Shadowdancer at ECL 6? It requires 10 ranks in Hide. At level 5, you can barely cover the 8 ranks in move silently.
Anyway, yeah, interested. Considering a ratcatcher who's getting into adventuring because he can either DEFINITELY die of plague while catching rats or PROBABLY die of being murdered in a dungeon crawl.
Anyway, yeah, interested. Considering a ratcatcher who's getting into adventuring because he can either DEFINITELY die of plague while catching rats or PROBABLY die of being murdered in a dungeon crawl.
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