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    1. justTypical 9 yrs ago

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9 yrs ago
Current I dig, you dig, she digs, he digs, we dig. (it's not a very good poem, but it *is* pretty deep...)
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9 yrs ago
GMs can't keep players! I can't keep my GMs! Cats and dogs living together! Solution? I host a 1x1... with myself!
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holy... way to up the ante!

I've got Shreth, since Ben's right next to Gregory anyway
Jakar watched in satisfaction as the few remaining ruffians fled in terror. There wasn't a moment to lose, however, as Dyllon vocally reminded them. After a quick search through the undergrowth for his lost arrow, he climbed aboard the carriage.
@Azlum

Hello and welcome to the guild! Sounds like you'd have a good time in the advanced section, lots of intricate plotting over there :)

Now, (if you can forgive a shameless plug) I'm part of a steampunk horror game that's looking for another player or two, if that's your sort of thing. The GM's got a definite plot going and the posting flavour leans toward in-depth, so come check it out when you've got a moment!

</shameless plug>

Enjoy your time here!
got it, thanks!
Nicely done everyone! the miscreants never knew what hit'em.

So, now, for the sake of convenience should we just keep posting in the same order?

(20 w disadvn. 10, 15 w disadvn. 5, 3, 1)

and VKAllen, d'you mind explaining exactly what happened there? Still trying to get good grasp on all the mechanics. Is that a will save?

@Algorhythm

As Gregory chattered on, Ben simply looked worn out. He appreciated Zuma's attempt to deflect the questions, but with a subtle gesture, signalled that he would be all right. "What is your name?" he said, turning towards Gregory.

"Gregory Stills, Investigator, second class," said Gregory, drawing himself up in pride.

"Gregory, Elly Margaret is dead, along with Jacob and his parents," Ben said firmly, but not unsympathetically.

Gregory's eyes widened in shock, and his mouth hung open.

"I'm sorry. I don't like to be the bearer of bad news," Ben continued. "There was nothing we could do. Inspector Morris and I were on assignment the night they died, but we arrived too late."

Gregory's face still showed his horrified disbelief. "Dead...? But... why? How?" he stammered.

"Through no fault of their own." He hesitated for a moment, and crouched down, laying a massive hand gently on Gregory's shoulder. There was a sudden intensity in his gaze as he met Gregory's eyes. "Listen to me closely, Gregory," he began. "There is evil in the inner shell. Great evil. It's the sort of evil I'm afraid simple folk, like you or me, can't understand. It consumes the lives it touches, even those of people you know and love. Until now, it might have seemed distant, something that affects only strangers, but you must understand! Friends, family, neighbours, no one is safe in that city.

"That's why we're here. All of us. People like Dr. Isaacs and Professor Hartwell who can understand, and can teach us how to fight it. People like Tom Reitz, who have the skills to make that fight effective. And," he said, standing and growing slightly more animated, "people like you and me, or Zuma, or Morris or Krueger or Bones or any one of these investigators who are willing to lay down their lives for the sake of that same fight!"

"Don't ever forget it." He paused, and sighed. "Because, for people like Elly and Jacob, we're all they have."

Gregory stared at the floor.

Ben clapped him on the shoulder. "Come now, we haven't lost everything yet. And we certainly can't have you lose your spirits. Let's see if we can't convince Carmina to serve you something a little more invigorating than that fruit juice."

As he began guiding Gregory toward the bar, however, they were interrupted by a stir at the arrival of Dr. Isaacs, Professor Hartwell, and Tom Reitz.
Personally I really wouldn't mind things tending towards Discworld-style, tongue-in-cheek humour, myself... but IncredibleBee's probably got the right idea
I'd be up for something like this!
Shock the monkey! shock the monkey! Shock the monkey! shock the monkey!

Shock the monkey to life.
A couple of bandits making a panicked escape drew Jakar's attention towards the front of the carriage, where he saw the leader of the thugs lying in a pool of his own gore. Had that waif of a tiefling really done that? If so, he had severely underestimated her. Whatever had happened exactly, the sudden terror and flight of several bandits at the death of their leader provided an excellent opportunity to resolve this conflict without further bloodshed. Outlaws like this could be anything from hardened, merciless criminals to local farm boys out to cause trouble in the hopes of alleviating some of the monotony of their existence. Those of the latter type often lacked their own initiative and would turn tail at the first sign of real resistance. Perhaps with a little push, the few stragglers could be... persuaded to join their less courageous fellows. Jakar nocked another arrow and drew back his bow, aiming for the nearer of the crossbowmen in the undergrowth.

"Listen, you skulking vermin," he roared, "your leader has been struck down, and lies in his blood. Your miserable companions have abandoned you. Follow their lead now, and you may yet keep your lives!"
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