POOHEAD189

Dark Streets - Urban Shadows

Someone has knowledge of or a tie to your creator (or their lineage) that they refuse to share. They owe you one debt.

Given that both of you have a certain... antiquity @POOHEAD189@rush99999

@Candykane

I'd be up for it, certainly :)

Dark Streets - Urban Shadows

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>

That's good, because January's old armor from his days as a Roman Legate has been long overdue for a tune up. You reckon that'd be something Ǫlni could see to?

@rush99999

Definitely! That's actually a pretty great character thread

Dark Streets - Urban Shadows

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>

Would you be willing to have January owing you this Debt?

@rush99999

For old times sake, aye!

Now to add Valley Girl Freya who is more interested in forever 21....

@Penny

What a concept! And yet strangely appealing..

Dark Streets - Urban Shadows

@POOHEAD189 very cool take on the veteran!

@Penny

Any excuse to play a dwarf ;)

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

Well, that wasn't quite what he had in mind, but immediately he latched on to the fact it wasn't a no, even if it wasn't the resounding yes he had hoped for. He had expected such a reply in the fantasies he had granted himself, but he couldn't quite recall the smooth reply he always had. Plus, this time, he had foolishly not thought ahead about it. He knew it was her anxieties that halted her from something that could make the both of them happy. There was no logic that would dissuade him. He knew that instinctively.

"So..." He said, getting to his feet. He still had her hands in his his, and his dark eyes were level with hers. "You believe it would be better for me if I were to live all of my life in unhappiness rather than to live some of it like that..."

He had a small smile on his face, though not because he was not sympathetic to her reservations. He knew them almost as well as one of her own family, he felt. It was simply a part of her charm, to him. She was collected, intelligent, always planned everything. He was no stranger to plots, but he was more prone to 'winging it' as the commoners said. "You may not wish to harm me, but there is no greater harm than seeing you not be happy. Than seeing you marry someone else, someone you are forced to." His next words were breathy and earnest. "There is no greater harm than being apart from you."

Galt's family had thought he should have married years ago, though for entirely different reasons than people might wish that upon Silke. They thought a woman might make him honest. He had always laughed at the ridiculousness of that forlorn hope, and yet ironically, one had. The one he was asking to marry him right here and now.

"You know in your heart you want to." Galt whispered, and he shook his head. "It won't solve everything. It won't solve the problems of the kingdom or make life perfect. But together there's nothing we can't work towards, and there's nowhere I would rather be than by you. Please, for once in the months I've known you, do me the favor of answering how you would desire it. I know you're frightened. I am too but..." He squeezed her hands. "Do you trust me?"

Dark Streets - Urban Shadows

The Veteran

Name
Ǫlni

Look
Male, white (norse), uniform

Demeanor
Professional

Character Stats
Blood: 0
Heart: 1
Mind: 1
Spirit: 0

Starting Factions
Mortality: 1 []
Night: 0 []
Power: 0 [+1]
Wild: 0 []

Who are you?
"I am Ǫlni, son of Brúni, who forged the necklace Frigga asked for millennia ago on Tromsøya Isle. I have worked for kings and chieftans, jotuns and the aesir themselves! Long years have I slept in the bosom of the world, only to find it far different than I ever could have imagined. My sleeping brothers were of stone. Dead or slumbering, I could not say. But I have traveled midgard these twenty years in search of any awakened of my kin, and I intend to find them."

How long have you been in the city?
"Four seasons of yule, or what the americans call Christmas."

What was your greatest accomplishment in the city?
"An industrial warehouse in lowtown. Ate, I worked on the Hood-McPherson Building, true enough. But it's too much glass and plastic. The warehouse is made of good stone and sturdy timber, and it shall be used for an actual purpose beyond the mewling of men."

Why did you stop?
"Stop? I'll continue, human. But first thing's first, I must find more of my kind."

What do you desperately need?
"I need the tools to make great wonders, like the artifacts of old. I need my brothers back at my side, and the Gods to approach us once again for our craftsmanship!"

Gear
- A warhouse, an old pick up truck, a smart phone (company phone), workspace
- Magnum Revolver

Debts
Someone relies on you for training or knowledge. They owe you
2 Debts.
• You’re working on something big for someone, and it’s nearly
ready. They owe you a Debt.
• Someone keeps pulling your ass out of the fire. You owe them
2 Debts

Workspace
A forge, junkyard of raw materials, machining tools

Drama Moves
Old Friends, Old Favors: When you first encounter an NPC—rather than
putting a face to a name—you may declare them an old friend and roll
with Mind. On a hit, they offer you comfort and aid, even if it exposes
them to danger or retribution. On a 7-9, tell the MC why you owe them a
Debt. On a miss, tell the MC why they want you dead

Too Old for this Shit!: When you get caught up in a fight you tried to
prevent, you get armor+1 and take +1 ongoing to seeing yourself and
others to safety.

True Artist: When you create something for someone using your work-
space, mark their Faction

STANDARD ADVANCES
Advances available at beginning
of play:
[] +1 Heart (max +3)
[] +1 Mind (max +3)
[] +1 Spirit (max +3)
[] A new Veteran move
[] A new Veteran move
[] Add 2 more features to your workspace
[] A move from another Archetype
[] A move from another Archetype
[] Change your Faction after 5 advances you may select:
[] +1 to any stat (max +3)
[] +1 any Faction (max +3)
[] Erase a scar
[] Erase a corruption advance
[] Erase a corruption advance
[] Advance 3 basic moves
[] Advance 3 basic moves
[] Retire your character to safety
[] Change to a new Archetype

CORRUPTION ADVANCES
[] Take a corruption move
[] Take a corruption move
[] Take a corruption move
[] Take a corruption move from another Archetype
[] Retire your character. They may return as a Threat

Corruption Moves
[] Back at It: Take a standard move and a corruption move from another Archetype. Whenever you use those moves, mark corruption.
[] Pack Rat: You may mark corruption to reach into your kit and find just the thing you need to deal with your current situation.
[] Catch You Fuckers at a Bad Time?: Mark corruption to arrive in a scene. Mark an additional corruption to bring someone with you.

Dark Experiments: When you “work over” someone (alive or dead) in
your workspace, mark corruption and roll with Mind. On a 10+, ask 3. On
a 7-9, ask 2:
• What is your weakness?
• What are you hiding?
• What are you afraid of?
• What are you, really?
• What are you planning?
On a miss, ask 1, but someone from their Faction knows what you did.

Harm
[] Faint:
[][] Grievous:
[][] Critical:

Urban Shadows - Tales from Corvus Bay

I was debating on whether I wanted to join for a couple of hours, but if I get to use a certain concept in mind, I'm in.

Warm greetings!

@Sorin Welcome! Let me know if you have any questions

The Pavonis Campaign - Warhammer 40000

"For a moment there, we thought they might have to use the resuscitrex on you, but you were lucky. The bullet went clean through, didn't shatter bone... Other than loss of blood, you'll be fine. Though the medicae says you'll need to take it easy as long as possible. Still got a hole in you." Rikkard explained.

"It feels like it," Zeb admitted, hoarse. He looked down at his bare torso, white bandages wrapped tightly around his stomach. He placed hand on it, and felt an immense ache. The soldier rubbed his eye and tried to unmuddy his mind, but it seemed like he might need more rest. "Where's the Commissar?"

He looked up, only to see Rikkard stand up from his seat, looking at the curtain. Zeb turned to see it moved aside, and a tan man stood there. To say he was ripped was an understatement. He looked to be made of pure scars and muscle, with a strong jaw but graced with high cheek bones. He wore camo pants and a single, sleeveless top on. Around his close cropped hair was a bandana. In his hand, he held Zeb's catachan fang. It looked far more comfortable in his grasp, seeing as there was no mistaking him as one of the fabled jungle fighters of that legendary death world.

"You know, you don't look like much. Especially for a Commissar dog." The fighter said, taking his eyes off the fang and settling them on Zeb. Even if the guardsman was at his best, he didn't think he was up to taking this man in a fight. But maybe it was just the mystique of the death worlders that had him thinking that way.

"Did that fang belong to you?" Zeb asked him. The catachan shook his head, frowning for the merest second. Zeb then said. "Then you have no claim on it. So I assume you're here to give it back to me."

The catachan looked him with a neutral, almost harsh gaze. But eventually, he gave an amused smile, and flipped the short sword and caught it by the blade. Rikkard stiffened, as if he was going to go for his weapon. The catachan ignored him. "I've heard of you, and I saw the racket you started last night. You've got balls, you and the woman."

"Commissar," Rikkard corrected him. This time he did shoot the wounded guardsman a black look, before returning to regard Zeb. Surprisingly enough, he held the catachan fang out to him. Zeb took it gingerly, thinking it was a trick. But he took it without any mischief.

"I don't like Commissars, or their dogs. Remember that if you get back up. And once you're dead, I'll take that fang off you. I'll lend it to you for awhile, though."

"Thanks," was all Zeb gave him, and the fighter only stood there for another heartbeat before disappearing behind the curtain, as if he never was. Well, hopefully that didn't overly complicate things. Zeb turned to Rikkard. "So specialist, where's the Commissar?"

"I'll get your crutches. She's awake but she's not enjoying being off her feet."

Pax Astra

"You know, I make a mean steak." He said, popping the cork off and setting it down to the left of his plate. Her steak smelled delightful, he admitted privately. Venison steak was new to him, but he would try anything once. "Maybe once this whole thing is over I'll invite you over to a cookout."

He admired her for how much she had things so well ordered here. He could survive like an automaton if he were alone in the wilderness, but he found he was a bit too disorganized when out of service to have such a spiffy place as Sabatine's. Maybe he wasn't giving himself enough credit, but he was impressed nonetheless. When he tastes the steak and drank a bit of the beer, he whistled appreciatively. "On second thought, I'll need to invite you over to cook with me. This is officer good."

It was partially a joke. Officer good was a stupid, half ironic slang-term for anything above expectations. But his praise was honest.

"Something else to focus on? I'll take that as hyperbole, Sab. From what I know, he's the kind of man who needs exile or death before you can take your eyes off of him. I think he thinks the same of us, or he soon will. I don't know anyone else who can catch his attention, unless he's harassing other legionnaires you know of."

Her mouth was full, but she shook her head, waving her fork around as if to go 'you know what I mean.' He smiled to himself and took another sip of the beer. His mind went from the food to the fight they had ahead. No way in Hades were they solving this without more death. It made him oddly nostalgic.

"You know, on my first tour my team got a call to this cog. A friendly. It had been hit abaft and boarded. They needed a senator for information. They didn't tell us the details. We had unus nulla to kill any invader on board. Nothing we never did before, but when we got in, we were told they were dissimulo persona-" Military slang for impersonating a roman legionnaire. "- and it seemed to check out. They wore our colors but had hand-me down arms, something a barbarian might carry. We hit them hard. I remember taking my cultro to a throat, and he spoke something in our language when he died." Tiber seemed to pause, as if in thought. He sighed and shook his head once. "Anyway, we rounded the last of them up and took the senator. We were not given leave to let any of them live, other than him. Before we followed orders, one of the men told us we were tyrants. He called us fools. We found out right there, we had been killing romans. The senator had fled Terra with his personal retinue and with whatever arms they could find. The damage to their ship wasn't from invaders, but terran batteries in their escape. We were bringing back a senator for execution, not saving him. I just... I don't know. It stuck with me, after that. I guess I'm just glad I know I'm fighting with and for something I really agree with."

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, and Tiber broke it with a chuckle. He gestured with the earthenware bottle. "Sorry, beer's strong. Must be hitting me already."