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Messages - Sabwones

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46
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 18, 2016, 03:23:26 PM »
Emma's outburst snapped Sab from his reverie. Seeing the girl laugh, genuinely and without restraint, placed a determined weight on the scale against the frustration and fear he'd felt since waking up in this pit. Finding what you'd lose. An earnest smile. A misplaced act of kindness. Little victories. Bit by bit, we chip away at the impossible.

"Oh, this?" Sab plucked at the material of his homemade tanktop. "Yuk it up, you little git. We'll see who's laughing when every hipster from here to New Jersey's buying these for $50 a pop." He stared into the middle distance for a minute, then added, "actually, fuck 'em. This is too good to share."

He found a little more give in the plush upholstery of the chair and issued a low sigh. You've got a grounding now, man. Just take a minute. Try not threatening someone for a change. Try not being an acerbic jackhole. Y'know. Be a little less...you.

"So," he began, reaching into his jacket and removing the revolver, "any revelations? A sign? Guidebook? Gigantic map of the universe with a tiny 'You Are Here' sign?" Letting muscle (for wont of a better word) memory take over, he opened the revolver at the breach-

Webley Mark 6, or VI if you're feeling cultured. Saw service in the first world war, this one. Lovely piece. Chambered in .455, a bit uncommon, but it had far superior recoil...if you were considering having this 'restored'. Not that I'm suggesting anything.

...and if I was?

I have the number of a man who could lend you a hand with that.

Excellent.


Fully loaded. Hm.

Sab realised that waving a gun around without proper explanation wasn't exactly good manners and explained thusly, "I wasn't expecting to be toting around artillery, by the way." He held up the tin badge by way of clarification. "Real gun. Fake badge. Whoever I am, a strong forward planner isn't it."

47
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 18, 2016, 09:41:39 AM »
Tugging on the jacket over his tanktop, Sab dropped backwards into another of the large armchairs facing the fire, hooked a pouffe with one of his heels and put his feet up. He did his best to act louche and shot Emma some finger guns.

"All present and correct, lass." His hands opened into the 'not bad' hand waggle gesture as he gauged her new look. "Not bad. They make you look like a dork, but...well," he tapped his own pair "...as long as you're in the majority, looking dumb is just fashion."

He felt the warmth from the fire, while soothing, there was a constant sense that no matter how warm the room could ever be, he'd always feel a slight chill, a natural absence of vital heat that he could only assume was a common factor of being undead. It worried him like a hangnail, not just the chill, but the fact that he still couldn't piece together what was going on. He was dead, and for some reason it hadn't taken fully, but beyond the frankly disturbing recollection of his own death, he couldn't figure what had happened since then. The 'bone zone' logo was handmade. That seemed too on the nose to be a flat-out coincidence. How active had his un-life been?

Sab reached into his pocket and felt for the badge. It was thin and light, with a safety pin badly soldered to the back for affixing to clothing. In the light, he saw it for what it was - a cheap toy badge. Stamped tin, with 'Deputy of Radial Springs' printed into the center in a basic 'old western' font. It looked like something you'd get thrown in with your Radial Springs 'Lil Cowpoke Kit.

"Now c'mon little fellahs! We got some cattle to roun' up!"

Sab jerked in his seat, the words slapping across the face like a wet flannel.

That was him. Putting on a fucking terrible American accent, but that was him.

"Jesus."

48
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 17, 2016, 11:23:26 AM »
Sab stood very still. If his mouth had been capable of producing saliva, it would've been a dry and coarse as sandpaper. He felt like his guts had been uncoiled and run through a mangle, wound around his neck and used as a cord to whip his suddenly brittle, china-like body around and around in an endless black void.

It wasn't nice.

Slowly, reluctantly, he fell into himself again, his sense of being returning like a cat who knew you'd been worrying and was curious if you'd bought better food since last time. As the oddly cold sense of animation returned to his worn old bones, Sab took in the scene. Jack was resting against a wall, beads of sweat running over his flushed face, spent from the exertion of whatever in the blue hell had just happened.

In Jack's arms, he now noticed, hung a pair of pale grey suit trousers, a jacket of the same hue and, somewhat frustratingly, an identical pair of green-framed sunglasses.

Taking them with pronounced care, he looked Jack in the eye and said in a level tone, "I'm sure you did that because you thought you were doing me a favour" he leant closer and his voice took on a glacial edge, "but if you ever do that to me again, I'm parking a bullet in your brain stem."

He stood, clothes slung over one arm, resting a pair of sunglasses impossibly on his face without the aid of ears or nose. "Now come on, the lass is probably wondering where we went."

Sab took off down the hallway at a brisk pace, descended to the bar and upon sighting Emma, tossed the spare pair of sunglasses her way.

"Here, got you a souveneir."

49
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 16, 2016, 03:09:08 AM »
Spoiler: show
Oh dude. That sucks. Y'all right now?


"I hope not," Sab muttered, "last thing we need are two corpses knocking around the place." He clicked his incorporeal tongue. "Oi! Stumpy! Over here! You dropped something."

At least with his body in sight, he found it easier to manouvre his headless body down the hall towards them. With deliberate care, but still managing to stick a thumb in his own eye socket, he raised his skull to the top of the exposed vertebrae peeking out from his shoulder blades, settled it on top, then with a sharp twist and an audible 'crack', snapped it into place.

Sensations, previously only relayed by a bad fax machine, swam back into focus. Giving his limbs an experimental flex, making sure he hadn't put his head on backwards, he flexed his shoulders, rolled his jaw and gave a little chuckle. "One careless owner. I need to go to the gym more often."

He paused, feeling something shift down the back of his shorts. Reaching around, his hand closed around something heavy and metallic. Pulling it out, he revealed an old-fashioned revolver, blackened steel and dark wood grip. "And maybe the firing range." He added.

50
Forum Roleplaying / Re: Character Bank 2.0
« on: October 11, 2016, 10:50:31 AM »
Not sctrictly a character, but my GM asked me, as we're going to Eisen and I happen to be playing a monster hunter, to create the Terror that is stalking the town. Thus...

Die Hautscnhieder
(lit. The Skin Tailor)

Appearance
A short, timid-looking old man with sallow, wrinkled skin and rheumy eyes, calloused hands and a dusty, oft-mended craftsman’s attire. On closer inspection, it starts to become clear that the skin is a patchwork of fine scars and needlework, holding his facade of humanity together, but by then, he’s most likely drawn his long cutting shears...

He is the inhuman lynchpin that binds together his web of flesh and sinew. Without him, his creations fall apart.

Motivation
Compulsive craftsman, using human skin, bone and sinew to create clothing that reflects his subject’s life or personality. Sturdy gloves of a mason, elegant leather boots of a courtesan, etc.

Shapeshifting
The best hunters never let their prey know they are being hunted until it is too late. This creature could be standing next to you, perhaps even speaking with you, and you might never know it. Spend a Danger Point to have this Monster assume a new form. The new form is completely indistinguishable from whatever it is mimicking, save for a specific thing that the GM determines. For example, a specific Monster may always have cat’s eyes or have a snake’s fangs.

Flavour: Die Hautschneider can alter his own appearance like tailors let out a jacket, with needle, thread and some ‘leather’ from a particular source.

Regenerating
The Monster heals quickly, and is even able to regenerate lost limbs. This Quality can only be applied to a Monster Villain. Spend a Danger Point to remove all Wounds in the current tier. Spend 2 Danger Points to remove 1 Dramatic Wound.

Flavour: The wounds literally ‘knit’ back together with needle and thread.

Origin:
Once upon a time, a poor tailor was commissioned by a wealthy gentleman to make him some winter clothes. The money was good and the tailor was more than happy to put all other work aside to see this done. The gentleman asked for a jacket as tough as a soldier’s hide, boots as sure as a huntsman’s stalk and gloves as soft as a virgin’s kiss. A curious request, but the tailor was sure he could give the gentleman what he asked for.

The tailor spent what little he had acquiring the finest leathers he could find to create the items the gentleman requested. Night and day he toiled, neither eating nor sleeping until the task was complete. His hands cracked and raw, his stomach knotted and growling, he looked upon his work and smiled with pride. Truly, this was the finest work he had ever done!

The next day, the tailor presented the gentleman with his jacket and gloves and boots. The gentleman regarded the fine leathers, the elegant stitching, the beautiful decoration...then threw them into the fire in disgust.

“I told you,” the gentleman spat, “a jacket as tough as a soldier’s hide, boots as sure as a huntsman’s stalk and gloves as soft as a virgin’s kiss. I will accept nothing less.”

The tailor had spent every penny on acquiring the leather he’d needed, and still it was not enough? He had neglected his work for so long that his other customers had taken their business elsewhere, If he did not finish this commission, he would face ruin. He approached the usurers and with a heavy heart borrowed against his own home, bribing dock workers, hiring professional hunters, scouring the four corners of Theah for the rarest hides imaginable.

Weeks passed. The tailor grew thin and wizened, surviving off’ rainwater and the scraps of rawhide he could spare. Night and day became meaningless. Madness’ icy fingers slipped into the tailor’s mind, but in that madness, he created something sublime. Finally, he had it.

The gentleman’s household nearly turned away the obvious madman at their door when the tailor came to deliver his work, but the gentleman waved them away. He asked the tailor, “You have what I asked for?”

The tailor nodded, and showed him.

Nothing had ever been made so exquisite. Hide worked in such a way that it almost seemed still living, so light and natural that it could be felt as an extension of your body. Perfect.

Once again, the gentleman cast them all into the fire. In rage, he rounded on the tailor, bellowing once again, “a jacket as tough as a soldier’s hide! Boots as sure as a huntsman’s stalk! Gloves as soft as a virgin’s kiss! DO NOT RETURN UNTIL YOU CAN BRING ME WHAT I ASK!”

The tailor left. His best had not been enough. He had sacrificed everything. There was simply nothing left for him to give.

But perhaps there was something for him to take.

The tailor left the town. The usurers claimed his workshop, noting only that they were short some of the simpler tools of the tailor’s trade. Life, such as it was, carried on as normal.

Then one autumn evening, the gentleman’s gamekeeper disappeared. They found his body strung from a tree. His feet missing.

The next day, the gentleman found a pair of boots at his bedroom door. They were firm and formed well, they met even the slickest precipice with the sureness of a mountain goat. A finer pair of boots had yet to be made.

As winter crept in, and the memory of the gamekeeper’s demise had begun to fade, the gentleman’s brother, a fine swordsman and proud military man went missing on his way home from the inn.

He was found the next morning, hung from his ankles, his whole torso flayed clean to the bone.

The next day, the gentleman found a jacket hung inside his wardrobe, made of a leather that turned aside steel and fire like rainwater. It was then that the gentleman knew what this meant.

In a panic, the gentleman summoned his daughter his his side, young, fair, betrothed to a noble house, he knew what the tailor wished to do next and he would deny him that pleasure.

The following day, the carriage sent for his daughter arrived in the town, horses steaming and frothing from the mad ride they’d made from the estate to the safety of home. The gentleman flew to the door, flung it open…

...and saw a pair of delicate pale leather gloves arranged on the seat. Next to them, penned in a steady hand, was a note:

“I ask for no coin, sir, for you have shown me such wondrous and terrible things.”

So be cautious, should you find an errant shoe or glove seemingly cast aside on a lonely woodland track. It may be Die Hautschneider, looking for someone to complete the pair.

----------------------------------------------------------

Monster Squad (Die Fleish-Puppen)
The skinless, mindless leftovers of Die Hautschneider’s victims. They are clumsy and slow, but thanks to their master’s handiwork, they have become adept at patching one-another up should they come under attack.

Suggested Move: Much like the Pirate Brute Squad, spend a Danger Point to have 1 of the squad abduct an NPC and drag them away to Die Hautschneider’s lair.

Unliving
Typically single-minded in the pursuit of slaughter and feeding their insatiable hunger, these walking corpses are unsettling to behold but not a significant threat alone. This Quality can only be applied to a Monster Squad. Spend 1 Danger Point at the end of a Round to return this Squad to full Strength.

Relentless
Prey runs, and the predator gives chase. This Monster never gives up the hunt, and hiding from it is futile. It will find you. Any attempts to evade or escape from this Monster cost 2 Raises, instead of 1. Spend a Danger Point to have the Monster enter a Scene, so long as it is physically possible.

51
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 10, 2016, 11:47:52 AM »
"A crush?" Sab sounded genuinely tickled by the notion. "I do hope she wasn't in any condition similar to mine, otherwise that would've ended in tragedy. Forget throwing a hotdog down a hallway, it'd be like lobbing a chipolata into a mausoleum."

He thought for a moment, then added, "Sorry, mate. I'm sure she's lovely. For a physical embodiment of death, anyway."

Less chat, more finding yer body. Come on, you idiot.

It was a peculiar feeling, a sudden sense of space around a body he couldn't see, but his last attempt at motion had at the very least moved his body to somewhere less confined. His hands grasped at empty air, feet, hard and lifeless yet somehow capable of feeling...carpet? Either that or moss,  underfoot.

"Wherever I am, it's got a floor..." He fell silent, focusing all his mind onto his blind groupings in the dark. "Walls. Painted...not paper. Bed, I think. Pillows..." a distant crash of ceramic caused him to jerk for a second, "...table lamp. Sorry." He tuned out again. He could hear the motion now, but the strange acoustics of the hallway were making it hard to figure out precisely where from.

Come on. It's a bedroom. That means there's a door. With luck, it'll open out into the hallway.

"Right. I'll see if I can find the door. Hmm. Bed again. Wall. There's a corner. Following it along th- AGH! Sodding coffee table. Okay, almost...there you are you little..."

A click came a few doors down from them. The door swung inwards, a little light spilling from within, then a tall figure stumbled out.

The undead have always been considered to be a formal sort. Even in death, there's a little dignity.

The faded denim shorts and black tank-top bearing the crudely stencilled legend "The Bone Zone" with an arrow pointing downwards didn't get anywhere close. The lime green-framed sunglasses hanging from the scooped neckline and the badge clasped in one hand were interesting additions, but hardly championed the 'child of the night' vibe he'd been expecting.

"...was I on holiday?"

52
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 09, 2016, 04:11:25 PM »
"I'm pretty sure you'll go blind if you keep playing with yourself like that," Sab chuckled, "but that's interesting. I'm still not full whack on where I came from, but I don't remember any sort of magic being...well...something you talked about. Never heard of magic of the soul, neither. Not outside the peeled skulls and heart-in-a-jar shop, anyway."

They continued on for a few paces in quiet contemplation. Sab occasionally remembering to hive his distant body a shake, but as of yet, no audible response was forthcoming. The possibility that his body hadn't made it here was starting to worry him quite a bit. He'd hate to be relegated to someone's hood ornament or wise-cracking perch for a crow.

"So. I. Um. Do remember something. I remember dying." He paused, gave the rattle another go. Nada. Bugger. "Um. Yes, so I'm starting to get the impression that I might've been some sort of...law man or something. There's a shallow grave and a badge and...well...I'm fairly sure I was alive when they stuck me in there. Couldn't move though, so perhaps they thought I was. Who knows. I wasn't really in any state to start asking questions. But anyway, I got buried. Then, I can only assume, some weird mumbo-jumbo brought me back. How, when, why, I'm still figuring that out, but I'm pretty sure of one thing. I didn't have this eye when I went in the dirt."

Another disembodied rattle.

click-clack

"Hold on."

clickedy-clack

"Did'ya hear that?"

53
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 09, 2016, 06:19:41 AM »
Mildly grateful that he hadn't been hooked by his empty socket like a bowling ball, Sab only let out a mild yelp when Jack picked him up and carried him away, further into this seemingly infinite building. When Jack mentioned his outburst, he flinched slightly.

"I'll live. Figuratively speaking." He sighed, then continued, "I'm sorry about that back there. Something just...touched a nerve, or something. Bloody hell, these metaphors do fall apart when you're dead, don't they?"

He barked a short, lifeless laugh.

"Yeah. I dunno. Something about that girl, mate. Not her, like, personally, but I got this gut feeling -fucking hell can I leave these body metaphors alone- feeling that something happened to her, but I couldn't figure out what, and with no body...I just feel fucking hopeless, to be honest. You never appreciate some things until they're gone, but it's one thing if it's something you can get back. Innocence? Once that's gone, it's gone for good."

He watched as Jack's fingers wove the ethereal threads, hungry for another subject.

"So. Magic, eh? Are ye a wizard, 'arry?"

54
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 08, 2016, 09:13:36 AM »
If Sab's fist had been anywhere in the vicinity of his face, he'd have crammed it into his mouth right there and then. Mortified didn't cut it. Jesus, where had that come from? Instead, he just quietly sighed, turned his eye to Jack and muttered, "Come on, then. Let's get my head screwed on properly."

55
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 05, 2016, 07:07:30 PM »
Jesus fuck with the hormones and angst, was I ever like this?

Fuck off you dense bastard, you're like that now. Age has clearly not mellowed your capacity for bullshit. Or death, for that matter.


Sab saw the bile begin to rise. For some reason, this felt familiar - putting the hard word on people. Making them squirm. Drawing out the words that fester under good graces and manners, baring them like a nerve. It wasn't right - she was upset and this wasn't helping matters, but he couldn't help it. The words spilled from his mouth like a ruptured water main.

"Right. Fine."

He sucked in air audibly - where it went was up for debate.

"You're a young girl playing grown-up. You're smart. Gifted, maybe, but you're wearing this fuckin' grown-up costume like it somehow makes you more than what you are. Kids your age drink, they wear dumb clothes, they get snotty, yeah, but you put it all together and it's like a pantomime act of something you think you should be." His teeth chattered as his diatribe became more animated still. "I look at you and I feel like I'm seeing the edges of a very fucking unpleasant story, something bad enough to snatch away what should've been some of the best years of your life and left it to you to find something to fill the gap. I look at you and I see an exit wound. I look at you and I want to find the cunt responsible and-

JESUS CHRIST STOP TALKING

-and..."

The word trailed off, withered away and died in the cavernous silence that followed it.

56
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 05, 2016, 06:03:33 PM »
Sabwones would've raised an eyebrow, should have such a thing still been a feature of his face. The girl had managed to get a grip on the logistics of the situation remarkably quickly, making the reasonable hypothesis that while the means may have had cosmetic differences, the nature was still the same.

"That makes a lot of sense," He agreed, "though if we could avoid you losing your shirt I'd appreciate it. Bad enough that you're sitting around getting plastered, let's not add gross indecency to the list."

He sighed, dropped from the lip of the glass.

"Look. We're here. We have a tenuous grasp of what the fuck is going on, let alone why, and pontificating over the why's and wherefore's isn't going to achieve much. Jack says the only two constants here are this Inn and the Lake. Great. I'm pretty sure I can find my body if someone will give me a ride about this place 'til I can hear it bashing about. I think that if this place is a bumblefuck of weird shit, our best bet is going to be finding all the things that we can rely on to stay the same."

Sab paused.

"Sorry. That was a bit strong. Seeing your own burial does that to a man, I suppose."

57
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 05, 2016, 04:21:11 PM »
A fair question. Without a way of keeping track of time, Sab hadn't been able to ascertain how long he'd spent crawling through the air ducts before making his final descent...but before that?

All right. Let's put on our deerstalker for a minute. Jack comes in through a portal. Emma comes in through the actual door a while later, by the sound of it. So already that's two different points of entry at two different times, for presumably two different reasons. Magic, then, most likely. Not that I have the first fucking clue on how that shit's supposed to work.

"Nah. I was up in those vents for a decent while, though." He replied distantly. "I'm still trying to work out why I'm in two places at once, to be perfectly honest."

How does this normally go? In the movies there's always some word or thing that happens that triggers a flashback, right? Or a solid bump on the head to...knock the memory loose? Do brains work like that? Possibly.

Alright, over-thinking this. Pretend you've left your keys somewhere. Where's the last place you left them?


A cold, metallic sensation, distant, like the coarse feeling before, echoed in his mind. Flat. Small. Circular. A coin? Button?

Badge.

The image rose up and hit him like a brick. The cold tin biting into the soft flesh of his palm as he lay, empty-eyed, in a dusty trench. A figure above him. Fine soil cloying at his nostrils, worrying the delicate sclera as it pooled on his cheek. The distant emptiness, a welcoming void, opening up inside of him. The sense of falling you get as you drift off to sleep. Weightlessness.

Sab was silent, gnawing on the tip of his straw.

58
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 04, 2016, 10:13:51 AM »
"I can do that. Sure."

So that felt like it'd struck a nerve. Hm. The girl was good at deflecting. Diverting the channel of conversation. Buying time. Hiding. No point in trying to press the issue. Not everyone was comfortable around the undead, for a variety of reasons, and someone this young? Could be anything.

Sab settled back down to his drink. Took a sip, enjoyed the sweet-sour taste and the burn of a proper ginger ale, not that carbonated arse-water.

"So...what's the story here, anyway? Can't be Hell. Too quiet. Can't be Heaven, 'cause the bar's too good." He thought about it for a bit, then added, "might be Purgatory. Place is weird like that. Though that'd mean you're both dead, which I suppose you both probably would rather not be the case. Although...might be some allegorial Dante Alighieri bullshit, in which case I don't have the first fucking clue other than follow the Roman poet."

59
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 04, 2016, 09:25:21 AM »
Righted once again, Sab contemplated the pinched tip of his straw for a second, then eyed the girl again.

"Right. Emma, yes? Think you could do me a favour?" His eye cast about the room. "Contrary to what you might believe, I think my body might be knocking around here someplace. Unfortunately, not being connected to it means I can't exactly go off looking for the bloody thing, so I was wondering...could I get a lift? Just 'til I'm back on my feet. So to speak."

He attempted a charming grin.

He hadn't quite grasped that 'rictus grin' was all he could reliably manage.

60
Forum Roleplaying / Re: We are our Avatars
« on: October 04, 2016, 09:05:55 AM »
"Muchas gracias, mate." Sab chirped, his teeth clacking hungrily as he wiggled closer to the glass, launched his chin upwards with a flick of the jaw and landed with it balanced on the lip of the glass. A moment's careful rocking brought the straw to his side, caught it between his teeth, then he began to drink.

Contrary to what the laws of physics would have like to have happen, Sab considered such things like a working digestive system to be more of a state of mind than an anatomical requirement. After all, if a man can speak without lungs, vocal chords or a tongue, why not drink without a stomach? Only stood to reason, if he could survive not having a body, then everything else after that should be a cakewalk.

That was actually a fair point. Lack of skin and vital signs notwithstanding, he could recall being a bit taller than this not long ago. His recollection wasn't getting any better, it seemed, but he could begin to feel a lingering sense of pressure...not here, but somehow here. Like a phantom limb.

Sab concentrated for a minute and went inside his skull.

Alright. So maybe my body's somewhere 'round here. How do you go about finding something you can feel, but can't see?

A knotty one, that.

Let's try something basic. Right hand. I know I've got a right hand. Wiggle-wiggle, Mr Right.

Somewhere, like a second-hand retelling of an old joke, Sab felt something coarse drum up against a hand. His hand. More pressure. Harder.

Give it a whack!

CLONK

"Ow!" Sab yelped, lost his place and flipped over onto one side. "Buggeration."

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