Avatar of jbeil
  • Last Seen: 17 days ago
  • Old Guild Username: generaldisaster
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
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    1. jbeil 11 yrs ago

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6 yrs ago
Current I just want someone to play Cyberpunk with ;_;
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6 yrs ago
the spookiest soccer coach
7 yrs ago
In the sort of mood to hack my wrists open and paint the walls
7 yrs ago
#FREEDANKULA
3 likes
8 yrs ago
Hurt me.
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Sigil is the great city of doors. Suspended above the Outlands by the Lady's will, it lies within the inner edge of a great ring, constantly changing according to the whims of the Lady's servants, and the machinations of the powers within the city. The nine factions bicker for control of the city, and the minds of the people within it, while the Outlands shift far below. Towns, rivers, forests and mountains are all pulled into the Outer Planes, to be replaced by whatever detritus falls from the planes.

Beyond the Outlands, the infinite Outer Planes stretch away into endless manifestations of what belief can do; each plane is born from the worship of a Power, a godlike being who rules their plane, and their plane is made in their image. Both the pursuit of order and chaos are reflected in these strange places, as are the conflicts of good and evil, and the various shades between each. One thing unites all of the Powers, be they the queer god-machines of Mechanus or the ta'naari of the Abyss: they all desire Sigil.

Sigil, the famous city of doors, leads to every place within the multiverse. If you can find the key, be it a trinket, a thought, or the absence of some specific emotion, a portal that leads anywhere can be found - and it is these portals which make Sigil so valuable; imagine how mighty a creature could become, should they be able to take Sigil and conquer the other Outer Planes. Fortunately for all the planes, the people of Sigil have a protector; the Lady of Pain. Silent and rarely spoken of, the Lady inspires fear in all those who hear Her name - the people of Sigil fear speaking of the Lady, lest her shadow fall upon them, and the blades around her face carve them up. The rulers of the Outer Planes fear her for the same reason.

Some say she killed a god to take her place as ruler of Sigil. Some say she has always been here, before even the first true gods emerged from the Chaos-That-Was. The only person who truly knows will not speak of it, and those who defy her are sent to the Mazes - pocket dimensions created to mimic Sigil which trap those who displease Her within. Nobody is known to have escaped the Mazes.

If the Outer Planes are the infinite edge of the Multiverse, the Elemental Planes are the second layer. Made entirely of the elements of Fire, Air, Water, Earth, and the twin Energies, these planes intersect each other within the Ethereal, an empty expanse which defies mortal understanding. Somewhere within the Ethereal Plane, offcasts from the Elemental Planes collide, and where they slam into each other, Prime Material Planes are born. Each of these Prime Material Planes are universes, locked away from the machinations of the Outer Planes, but through all of them run the portals through which Sigil can be reached. Within one of these Prime Material Planes, your universe exists. The world you and all the people your histories have ever recorded lived upon floated around a star, quite unaware of the incomprehensibly large multiverse around it.

Whether it was a whistled tune through a pair of trees crossing each others' branches or the memory of a spring wind in the midst of a battle, you were doing just the right thing, in just the right place to be ripped through the Ethereal, instantaneously warped across distances so large they cannot be measured in terms of length or even time into a forgotten shed within Sigil. With the half-light from a starless void-sky shining in through a broken window, you have found yourself in a small room, with a bizarre collection of alien beings, all of you with exactly no idea of the journey you are about to undertake...


This is an interest check for a game set in the Planescape universe published by TSR (perhaps most popularly known from Planescape: Torment, an excellent cRPG that you should play even if you've no interest in D&D in general). The PCs are beings from various Prime Material universes who have been whisked from their homeworlds by accident into the bleak City of Doors, and must travel together to solve three great mysteries: where are they, where is home, and how do they get back - but after the things they will experience, will their origin still feel like 'home' - and will it even accept them?

Let me know if this interests anyone!
I'll get working on a sheet after college today.
Reebot please. :)
Having our humble little thread visited by the famed Dervish, blimey!

Agree with everything above this post though!
Chewing ass and kicking gum.

Wait...
When the briefing was over, Claire was honestly a little surprised that nobody saluted the commander - perhaps it was force of habit, but by the time she stopped herself her hand was already halfway to her head. Getting ready for the operation was no different to any other; suit up, make your peace, and bring a big stick that fired high-explosive persuasion with an under-slung argument winner. Diplomacy wasn't her strong point, but from what she knew of the Krogans, they would be impressed by a woman who had lost half her limbs and kept fighting - or, perhaps they'd see her as week, kill the party, and the civil war would rage on. Ho hum - that was the commander's area. Until they hit combat, reluctant as she was to place her fate into the hands of a drunken Turian with a dangerous ship and a prickly temper, the last few days had taught her that it was easier to let it go. If something went wrong in the field, with any luck he'd take a few to the face and not get back up, and Claire would be able to at least get the crew home. It won't come to that, Claire told herself, you're on board. No fucker in the universe is mad enough to try and pick a fight with you and expect to win it. It was a lie, and not even a convincing lie; by the time the major had strapped herself into her heavy field armour she had forgotten trying to delude herself and decided to focus on just keeping calm and carrying on.

Two heavy pistols certainly helped, as did the slug-throwing rifle mag-clipped to her back. In a few places, the heavy ceramic plates of her armour were dented or scorched, but mostly their light grey surface was undamaged, while the soft hum of the built-in shields gave her a quiet reassurance that if the worst came to the worst, she could last about a minute under heavy fire without cover. That was also a lie, but not one Claire was uncomfortable with; for all her doubts about Galen, her own leadership, and the fact that she expected half of the faces she'd come to know already to be gone before the operation was over, the major knew how to kick arse, and whether it was alien arse, human arse, or some sort of bizarre plant-arse, she'd get the job done. Holding her helmet in her hands, facing her, she looked over the visor, with a stylised flag of St.George emblazoned on the front - probably not a good idea for infiltration, but she was here to provide firepower, not sneaking around. As she clipped it on, the HUD beeped into life and a series of blue panels lit up inside the helmet, feeding her information on her vitals, sensor readouts, ammunition counts; all the information the modern soldier could need.

Nothing left but to trust me luck now, she mused, as she made her way to the launch shuttle. It's got to change eventually.
Terribly sorry, I've been away all weekend. If you're lucky I'll have something for you tonight, if not, Monday.
I'll get a post up later today, do you just want us up to the point where the shuttles dust off?
shadowkiller912 said
You could pick an Asari. Though I always wanted to see a Vorcha spectre. :)


Boo! We want the volus! We want the volus!

"You there!" *wheeze* "Stop!" *wheeze* "Let's get after that Really Bad Guy!"
"Sorry, Harken - t'is Harken, ain't it? XO's place is on deck 'til relieved. I'll sure I'll find y' on t'mess when day's done. I expect t'hear why y've t'Union Jack on yer face." With that, she gave a crisp salute, turned on her heels, and headed back towards the bridge. As much as she would have preferred to find out sooner rather than later why the flag was splashed over the turian's face, she had a job to do; someone had to keep this boat running, and since it clearly wasn't going to be Galen, it fell to her to do it. Beating a hasty pace back to the bridge, the major took a position patrolling up and down the control panels, occasionally tapping a crewman on the shoulder and asking a few questions, feigning understanding, and moving on. All this technobabble was not her forte - perhaps Phalanx might be able to give her a few lessons during downtime. "All stations, 'port in. We ready t'go?" The refrain 'aye, ma'am' or something similar rounded through the bridge before she rushed back to the commander's control panel and opened a channel to his quarters - that much, at least, she could do, with the very helpfully labelled 'Commander's Quarters' button in blue light, shimmering off the projected controls.

"Sir, we're ready t'go on y'order. In yer own time," she intoned, as polite and deferent as she could manage, knowing what she did about that blaggard in charge. In your own sweet bloody time.
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