Necroes

Lost Mine Of Phandelver (D&D 5e) (CLOSED)

Not to sounds like a Chad, but has anyone seen the ladies? @TGM @Guardian Angel Haruki

Haven't heard from you two in a hot minute.

Plagues & Pageantry (Pathfinder 1x1 || Necroes & Dark Cloud)

I went ahead and posted my opener. I hope it helped set the scene for you, somewhat.

Plagues & Pageantry (Pathfinder 1x1 || Necroes & Dark Cloud)

The young messenger boy ran down the busy, overpopulated streets. Cobble stones clacked under the boy's thick, leather boots, as his uniform cap bounced on his head. Wearing the crimson red and midnight blue of House LeTrenche, there were few places the young elf would not be allowed to travel. Looking down at the envelope he carried, he read once more the address, turning his head from side to side as he scanned the numbers above the doors of the many apartments that lined the streets.

"123 Tenement Street, apartment B..." He would whisper, his small voice lost to the wind. Looking along the street, he had found the appropriate street, the appropriate apartment, yet to his surprise he saw only a single-story building. The building was at the end of the street, before it rounded the corner, so at that point the street and number would change if he continued forward. He was about to give up, thinking he had perhaps been given the wrong address, when a loud cough and a waft of smoke issued from the alley around the other corner of the building.

Looking down the street, the young elf would catch sight of a strange scene. Crawling out of a hatch, one presumably leading to the building's basement, was a very short man in a plague doctor's mask and cloak. Scanning around the hatch, the boy happened to catch sight of the sign, a label denoting this hatch as the entrance to apartment B. Staring at the man for a moment, clouds of variously colored smoke spilling out from behind him, the young messenger approached with caution.

"E-excuse me, sir?" The boy asked, unsure of what he looked at. The man was too tall to be a halfling or gnome, and too slender to be a dwarf. Yet he was clearly no child, the powerful cough easily that of a fully grown man. Still, strange as he was, the odd little man was the only one around to speak to, and seemed to come from the home the message was meant for.

"I'm looking for a, uhm... Mister Snoot? I've a missive for him, from House LeTrenche." As the boy approached, he was forced to stop quite abruptly in his tracks, as a pistol was drawn and aimed between his eyes. Now shaking, he held up his hands, the message held in his left. While the law dictated that it was illegal to harm messengers, carrying a stricter penalty that attack upon an average citizen, the law existed because the practice was far too common. The boy had been warned when he got the job, though this was his first time experiencing it.

But, the gun vanished, almost as quickly as it had appeared. The short man stood, the glass eyes of his mask changing colors as it reflected the nearby smoke. When he spoke, his voice was deep and gruff, sounding quite like a fine gentleman suffering from a decades old smoker's lung. "What the devil does that woman want now? I told her already, I've no tonics for enticing gentleman callers. If she's asking me to make those damned utters of her bigger again, I swear by all nine hells, I'll-"

The man was cut off as the boy shoved the letter into his hand. His face was read as he spoke, his voice shaking, still young enough to be embarrassed by adult language and very afraid of the weapon he'd seen. "Lady LeTrenche sends a request for audience, along with invitation to her estate for luncheon! P-please, give me your response, and I shall return, post-haste."

"If you are indeed Mister Snoot, then please, Sir, act quickly. The Lord LeTranche has been gone missing, and the entire house is in uproar. The Lady believes yourself to be the only one who can help. Please, sir, the other nobles will think to blame the Lady for his vanishing." The boy simply stood there, waiting, as the short man then seemed to read the message. While it was written in less certain language, it largely said the same thing, which the boy new because he was under orders to describe the situation in more specific terms.

"Well, if Victor has gone missing, then I suppose I've no choice. Young man, inform your lady I shall be in attendance. As soon as my new assistant arrives with our transportation, then I shall make my way there. Run along, then." Brindle spoke as he signed his name at the bottom of the invitation, marking with his signature that he had indeed received the message, before shoving it back in the boy's hands. Of course, the messenger took off at a sprint once he had it back. As he watched him run, the ratfolk could not help but ponder the irony of himself referring to the elf as a 'young man' when he was very likely older than himself by a matter of decades. One of the reasons elven children were often employed as messengers, they were children long enough to learn the job without growing too tall to not fit among the sections of the city sized for small folk.

Plunging back into his lab, Brindle set about making himself ready, preparing his many elixirs and potions for the day as he waited for his ally to show up. As far outside town as the little man lived, it always took him far longer than Brindle cared for to arrive each day. However, he had to admit to himself, it worked out quite well. He was himself rarely ready to go by the time he was supposed to be each morning.

Lost Mine Of Phandelver (D&D 5e) (CLOSED)

I'd have thought a fey pact warlock would be used to being surrounded by fairies.

Lost Mine Of Phandelver (D&D 5e) (CLOSED)

@Cu Chulainn Kinky. I'd expect nothing less from the guy known for making remarks about cum.

Lost Mine Of Phandelver (D&D 5e) (CLOSED)

I'll likely be taking up the rear, if no one objects. I've got one of the highest passive-perceptions in the group, and easily the highest AC. If we get taken from behind, Tibor is likely to see it coming, and can yell out as a free actions. However, my initiative is terrible, so if I take up the front I'll be in everyone's way.

Sweet Southern Nights (Vampire the Masquerade, 5th edition)

@Limey Essentially, yes. The rouse check isn't to see if you fail to activate the ability, so much as it is to see if your hunger increases for doing it.
Also, 1 is the minimum hunger you can be at without killing a human. It's not fully sated, but it's as close as you can get without taking a life. 5 would be ravenous to the point of entering a hunger frenzy.

And thank you.

Lost Mine Of Phandelver (D&D 5e) (CLOSED)

@Dark Cloud I can officially call you a liar.

Sweet Southern Nights (Vampire the Masquerade, 5th edition)

Unfortunately, Jesse failed his check to rouse the blood with a [urlhttps://www.roleplayerguild.com/ro…. Which means he'll be at hunger 2 for the start of this story.

Oh, everyone please mark your character's current hunger on your CS in the CS section. Everyone should be at minimum 1 at the start of this.

Luckily, he got six successes for his drive check, so he did quite well. 4 , 2 , 1 , 8 , 5 , 9 , 8 , 4 , 6 , 10 , 6, with the first two being the hunger dice means he escaped without a bestial response. Which is good.

My next post will be the contents of the manila envelope he received, which each of your characters will be receiving a copy of in your next posts. Feel free to post now with the results of your initial posts, as well as including your characters receiving the envelope from a source that ensures they will respond to it and take it seriously.

Sweet Southern Nights (Vampire the Masquerade, 5th edition)

Jesse looked down the track, his fist gripping the steering wheel of the beat up old volkswagen. His knuckles would be turning white, if they weren't already. Traditional rally race rules required a co-pilot, to read off the map and make sure the driver got in all the necessary lap types. This crowd, though, did not mandate it. The track, while rough, had no lap types. That meant it was just Jesse in the car, which was exactly how he liked it.

As soon as the engines fired, Jesse reached for his Beast. The power he pulled from it would cost him-he could feel himself grow hungry, as his skin tightened across his frame and his eyes briefly flashed crimson-but it would be worth it. Power flowed through him, his kindred blood rushing through his veins, filling him with speed far beyond anything a simple kine could hope to command.

Within moments of the flag dropping, Jesse was shooting from the starting line. Gravel spat under his tires, dirt flying high as he rounded corners and passed every car in front of him. Gears shifted and the engine purred as his near-instant reflexes let him respond to the slightest kick and pull from the road and the old machine he sat in. To onlookers, it would be like watching a someone running practice laps, his competition almost non-existent around him as he flawlessly cornered and drifted past them.

He finished nearly two full minutes ahead of the second place car. By the time he was done, the shocks on the old car were shot, and the transmission was close to giving out. Jesse had pushed the car to the limits with his powers, but it had won him the trophy. Really, that's all he had wanted. The thrill of victory, the desire to show people that he was better than them, was one of the few aspects of his humanity he had left. Even if the context for it had shifted.

As he went to the parking lot, he saw someone-a gorgeous woman, no less-leaning on his bike. It was hardly a new occurrence, though she certainly wasn't dressed like the usual girls who begged him for a ride. Before he could say anything, though, he felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of fear wash over him as the woman's eyes locked with his. That alone was enough to tell him that she wasn't normal, and that the manila envelope she was holding likely held bad news for him. Tossing the trophy in the trash, he approached, silently taking the paperwork to see what his latest orders from his Sire were. To his surprise, it was not her name written across the top of the documents.