>>5539794
Awareness of the bizarre celestial formation is slow to spread, many mortals lost in the mundanity of their daily chores, but eventually – be it through coincidence or providence – gazes drift upwards and become transfixed.
Writ in conquered starlight, the pulsing amalgam of warping shape expands by the second.
The peak of each oscillation generating an afterimage which ripples out across the sky from horizon to horizon.
Each wave of distortion, churns and twists the bordering starscape – displacing it in bulging folds which seem to collect in a loose ring around the abnormality.
Which are collecting around the abnormality.
The heavens themselves engorge then stoop towards the earth with gravity like viscous syrup overflowing from a spoon.
Like a ruffled tapestry unfurling the fabric of space sinks towards Serenade, slowly at first but picking up speed until it connects with pavement-encrusted earth with a thundering, definite sensation that isn’t kinetic.
Opaque curtains of star-speckled darkness - celestial landscapes blurred as though with spiraling motion yet unmistakably suspended in time - swathe downtown Serenade, isolating it from world outside.
Electrical transformers erupt in sparks, overhead wires abruptly snapped by the impossible obstruction. Darkness floods throughout the caged urban jungle, thousands upon thousands of bulbs and appliances going dead as they are starved of electricity.
Explosions and the rumble of collapsing debris rocks downtown Serenade as vehicles, infrastructure, and buildings falter and collapse where they are bisected by the Curtainfall.
Overhead, the strobing face luminance of the Spotlight, madly flicking through its thousand-fold variations, pours down upon the freshly set Stage.

= You are unable appreciate most of this pandemonium as it occurs =
= Far too preoccupied with the searing stream of information surging through your greymatter =
= Your body not writhing in anguish, but paralyzed – blankly staring at the Spotlight, the twirling, spasming shape so far above, yet at the epicenter of all of this =
= Just as you fear that the white hot lances penetrating your mind might rob you of consciousness, you are released =
= Quaking and shivering, all concerns are immediately overwritten by an overwhelming impulse – an obsessive compulsion roaring in your skull even louder than your pain-migraine =
= You are driven to seek out a PC, a proper one with a tower, as quickly as possible =
= A small part of you recognizes these intrusive, foreign thoughts for what they are and rebels against them =
= You have the opportunity to resist the alien directive’s attempts to despoil your autonomy =
= Roll 3d6 to do so, or you may elect to do nothing =

>>5539797
[Parties interested in participating will have 24 hours to make a character and respond to the events of the prologue.]
[It is not possible for further players to join the game after this point.]

Rolled 1, 1 = 2 (2d12)

>>5539794
Female+2Sha
Asian+2Def
Adolescent+2Sha
Starsign Rolled
Lifestyle 2 points into Shape, 1 point into Acrobatics, 1 point into CQC, 1 point into Stealth, 1 Point into Survivalism, 1 Point into Breaking&Entering, 1 Point into Thievery.

Treasures: a massive book filled with every scrap of writing from my parents that I could save from the fire, plus every photo or drawing from framed pictures or photo albums in the house that I could salvage, with my journal entries about my thoughts and what remains of my memory, all taped, glued, stapled, or pierced together. One of my stuffed rabbits, a white one blackened by fire. It has to fill the role of all the others lost, so it has more than one name. Father's long-knife, it still has mother's blood on it and I can't get it off.

Surroundings: The flat roof of a apartment building. Hiding from my pursuers, setting up to sleep. I came to this city vanish into a pleasure machine. My life will be short, finding meaning through transcendence offers me no solace, I want my remaining time to be happy and pleasant, but if I can't get that then oblivion will do.

>>5539797
I don't resist the intrusive thoughts. I'll wait until I'm certain the residents of this building are asleep before breaking into someone's apartment to look for a PC.

Rolled 6, 10 = 16 (2d12)

>>5539794
>Caucasian
>Adult
>Substance: 2
>Definition: 3
>Shape: 2
>Depth: 2
>Marksmanship 1, Investigation 2,Writing 2.

Treasures: A sardonyx signet ring with the initials P.S. engraved into them. A silver fountain pen with an engraving of a wave on it. A handkerchief with a deep red stain in the corner.

Surroundings: The streets. Walking on foot with letter in hand to the nearby post office.

>>5539943
>>5539797
The sudden want is immediately met with a reactive mental scream that stays the legs from straying off the path. Still the happenstance is odd, and the desire to know more combined with the disruption to the evening's intended activities is enough to leave me open to this stark suggestion to immerse myself digitally.

Rolled 6, 10 = 16 (2d12)

>>5539819
Aster
Sex: Female (+2 Dep)
Race: Caucasian (+2 Dep)
Age: Adult (+1 Skill / Stat) (+1 Sha)
Starsign: (roll)
Lifestyle: +2 Dep, +1 Sub, +1 Def, +1 Sha, +2 Astronomy, +1 Persuasion
>Total Stats: Dep - 6, Sha - 2, Sub - 2, Def - 1

Treasures: A brass compass with signs of age, but still in good function; a flashdrive holding some of my most important work and findings; my father Sebastian, the inspiration for my career, a valuable coworker, and a trusted friend and confidant through the years.

Surroundings: A small private observatory at the top floor of a building. I study the stars with my father, and have been noticing things recently that don't seem right. I have been working diligently to try to come to an understanding of what is going on, and have a theory brewing that I must bring to refinement and completion.

>Attempt to resist the alien's directives

Rolled 2, 6, 2 = 10 (3d6)

>>5539963
>resist roll

Rolled 5, 4, 5 = 14 (3d6)

>>5539943
>>5539959
Forgot roll and also sex is male

>>5539963
(forgot my extra skill from Adult, adding +1 Theology)

Pete
Male (+2 Def)
Caucasian (+2 Dep)
Adolescent.
Outer ring; the Pink Heart on the right.
Inner ring: the symbol on the middle left that looks like a dagger.
Point usage:
One point to Sub and Sha.
Two extra points from age. One point to Sub and one to Sha, again. Everything at 4 if I'm reading this right.
One level in dodging and one in Sprinting, assuming those are valid skills.

Treasures:
A small USB drive containing a childhood and early adolescence's worth of "cool stuff he found".
A weird shaped bone-white rock with holes in it. Actual bone
A dedicated collector's edition of "The Colour of Magic" by Terry Pratchett.

Surroundings; At home in his room on the second floor. Decided to try stargazing. A futile prospect on most nights given the light pollution, but the night sky can still be beautiful. Tonight, however, he has gotten a lot more than he bargained for.

Action:
The thoughts are not out of line with his own thinking, as Pete would have returned to his own computer soon enough, but his brain rejects the unknown influence on principle. Or will at the very least try to.

Hello again!

>>5539794
Wait, when each of the Stats has a (2) next to it, is that the default starting stat? If so, I would like to change up my build.

File: 1.jpg (236 KB, 768x768)

236 KB JPG

Rolled 4, 4, 3 = 11 (3d6)

>>5539890
[Action recognized as 'partial impulse resistance to avoid personal risk'.]
[Challenge Rating will be adjusted.]
[Rolling.]

>>5540619
> [Salutations.]

>>5540645
> [That is correct. All characters start with 2 in all stats.]
> [All submitted character templates have been deemed acceptable.]
> [Your characters, as I have interpreted them, are as follow:]

= ANISE =
- Stats -
[Sub]: 2 || [Sha]: 2+6 ||
[Dep]: 2 || [Def]: 2 ||
- Skills -
{Acrobatics}: 1 || {CQC}: 1 || {Stealth}: 1 ||
{Survivalism}: 1 || {Breaking&Entering}: 1 || {Theivery}: 1 ||
- Treasures -
(Tome of Familial Nostalgic)
(Many-named Stuffed Rabbit)
(Kin-stained Bowie Knife)
- General -
Sex: Female (+2 Sha)
Race: Asian (+2 Def)
Age: Adolescent (+2 Sha)
Starsign: Born under the [OMITTED UNTIL PROLOGUE RESOLVES] (1,1)
!! 8/8 Lifestyle Points expended. 0 points remaining !!

= P.S. =
- Stats -
[Sub]: 2+2 || [Sha]: 2+3 ||
[Dep]: 2+2 || [Def]: 2+2 ||
- Skills -
{Marksmanship: 1} || {Investigation: 2} || {Writing: 2} ||
- Treasures -
(Engraved Sardonyx Signet Ring)
(Silver Tide Fountain Pen)
(Sanguine-Stained Handkerchief)
- General -
Sex: Male (+2 Sub)
Race: Caucasian (+2 Dep)
Age: Adult (+1 Sha, +1 Marksmanship)
Starsign: Born under the [OMITTED UNTIL PROLOGUE RESOLVES] (6,10)
!! 5/8 Lifestyle points expended. 3 points remaining !!

= ASTER =
- Stats -
[Sub]: 2+1 || [Sha]: 2+2 ||
[Dep]: 2+6 || [Def]: 2+1 ||
- Skills -
{Astrology: 2} || {Persuasion: 1} || {Theology: 1} ||
- Treasures -
(Timeworn Brass Compass)
(Occupationally Vital Flashdrive)
(Cherished Paternal Companion)
- General -
Sex: Female (+2 Dep)
Race: Caucasian (+2 Dep)
Age: Adult (+1 Sha, +1 Theology)
Starsign: Born under the [OMITTED UNTIL PROLOGUE RESOLVES] (6,10)
!! 8/8 Lifestyle Points expended. 0 points remaining !!

= PETE =
- Stats -
[Sub]: 2+2 || [Sha]: 2+2 ||
[Dep]: 2+2 || [Def]: 2+2 ||
- Skills -
{Dodging: 1} || {Sprinting: 1} ||
- Treasures -
(Flashdrive of Juvenile Fancies)
(Peculiar, Porous Bone)
(Collector’s Edition of ‘The Colour of Magic’)
- General -
Sex: Male (+2 Def)
Race: Caucasian (+2 Dep)
Age: Adolescent (+1 Sub, +1 Sha)
Starsign: Born under the [OMITTED UNTIL PROLOGUE RESOLVES] (Selected)
!! 4/4 Lifestyle Points expended. 0 points remaining !!

> [Approximately 4 hours remain to lodge corrections or request alterations.]
> [After this period, all listed characters will be locked in.]

>>5540734
My Definition should be 2+2 due to my race selection, otherwise looks correct.

>>5540619
> [Action recognized as 'Resist impulse'.]
> [Rolling.]

Rolled 2, 5, 1 = 8 (3d6)

>>5540747
> [Confirmed.]
> [Game records have been updated.]

>>5540748
[Rolling.]

>>5540734
Possible(?) errors spotted. With all stats starting at 2 there should be no more than 14 "free-floating" points distributed between stats and skills assuming all 8 lifestyle points are spent, our star sign is rolled for instead of chosen, and sex, race, and age are all accounted for. "P.S" has an invalid total in your interpretation of his stat sheet, having 9 points in stats and 5 in skills while still having unspent lifestyle points by your reckoning.

I think you took his distribution, assumed he was spending those lifestyle points on stats, then got confused with your accounting when you realized the player did not specify which stats/skills the points from sex and age were distributed into. From there I guess you refunded him some points or the thing I just described happened but in a different order or something, I dunno.

Anyways, none of that really matters. The stat and skill distribution is valid because no more than 14 points were used, but he should have no more lifestyle points remaining, as to get that stat/skill distribution he would have to spend everything

>>5540734
Correction to Stat Distribution
>Stats from Sex, Race, Age remain the same
>Lifestyle changing to instead grant +2 Dep, +2 Def, +1 Sha
>New Totals should be: Dep: 2+6, Def: 2+2, Sub: 2+0, Sha: 2+1

Also, you list my skill as Astrology, whereas I assigned it to Astronomy. The spelling is very similar, but they are different things. If Astronomy isn't relevant this game but Astrology is, I'll keep it as you have it, but otherwise I'd like it to be Astronomy.

>>5540734
Assign 1 points into Marksmanship and 2 into Definition

= ANISE =
Shaking violently, you drag yourself to a wavering crouch.
Unwelcome knowledge floods your mind, disrupting even simple trains of thought.
Doggedly persistent urges emerge from the ether to wrack your willpower.
Almost choking on your tongue, you splutter and precariously rock back on your heel.
From your vantage point, you have a splendid view of a city in chaos.
Panic carries thick on the wind, emanating from every street, every home, every district of downtown Serenade.
At several points, where that cosmic smeared dome collided with the ground, great plumes of smoke rise underlit with flickering orange.
You don’t pay much attention to that, can’t spare much. Your feet are already jogging unbidden towards the fire-escape.
Deciding against fighting this aggressive impulse, you instead try to direct it in a way that reduces the threat of incrimination to the barest minimum.

(Dep Test)
(DC: 16 – 4 vs 11+2)
[Success]

Descending, you pass by several windows – muffled sounds of habitation leaking out or flickers of movement past the dark glass – you stomach knots and fingers twitch with each bypass.
An incessant throbbing starts building in your core, your musculature feels like its laced with heated wire.
You are growing fearful that the sensations might drive you to tumbling off the fire escape, when you find a suitable room.
Silent, still. The window is even open a crack. You slip inside, scooting over a counter.
You find yourself inside a modest apartment kitchen. A meal has been partially prepared on a, now cold, electric stove.
The front door has been left ajar, this apartment is empty for the moment, but who knows when...
The chaotic bedlam raging through your synapses reasserts itself, nearly causing you to collapse.
Measured thought is repelled as an animalistic fervor surges from deep within.
You begin racing from room to room, until you find what you need.
A storage space, or a particularly large closet, repurposed as a study in the bedroom.
An archaic brick of a computer crammed in a corner amidst piles of folders, binders, and several upturned coffee mugs.
The machine doesn’t even look plugged in, but that observation goes unheeded as your possessed body practically dives at the dust-caked set-up.

= ASTER =
Turning away from the darkened computation terminal, a man in the twilight of middle-age swivels his chair around - addressing you with a questioning expression.
Prior to being stricken by incapacitating pain, you were tracking an astonishing celestial phenomenon from the comfort on a quant rooftop Observatory – a genuine UFO.
Not something silly like a saucepan-ship filled with little green men, but something even less comprehensible, photons anomalously congregating congealing in geometric formations.
You’d been manning the spectrographic telescope, trying to filter out the ambiance light pollution so you could get a clearly view of the anomaly, but then…
You squirm in your chair, thousands of intricate cryptographic formulae and esoteric diagrammatic models flashed across your vision with each shallow breath.
Every nerve in your body is on fire – seething, howling, beyond incensed – battering your tortured psyche with the desire to tear the old man from his seat and commandeer the computer.
Eyes wrinkling with worry, your father speaks again, waving an arm to capture your attention.
You cannot hear him.
The finger knuckles of your right hand are white. Your pupils contract to their limit, drifting towards...
You need that machine.
You…

(Dep Test)
(DC 16 vs 3d6+8)
(16 vs 10+8)
[Success]

Gritting your teeth, you hurl your body hard onto the floor.
With a herculean effort, you push back against the cacophonous roar of the information streaming into your mind – banishing the invasive commands worming their way through your subconscious.
Only a little, a trivial amount of breathing room. A sandcastle standing against the unrelenting tide.
Your treasonous limbs spasm wildly, openly sojourning you, trying to drag you towards the computer. Every ounce of focus is occupied, you are fighting a two-front war against your hijacked motor functions and the insidious influence besieging your sanity.
Someone shakes your shoulder, tugging at you as you coil into the fetal position, distantly you hear someone yelling.
The room around you looks like its shaking.
It is shaking. Your father topples away from you as a seismic shockwave rocks the building.
The foreign information twists wildly beneath your skin like a whirlpool, unfamiliar data clouds the edges of your vision. You cannot hold out much longer.
Then it’s over.
At once, and with little fanfare, the pressure, the pain, the urges, all subside. You sprawled out across the observatory's floor - panting heavily, slick with sweat, but alive and your own once more. Disjointed motes of the eldritch symbols and arcane equations drift across your vision like motes of dust, faint and fragmentary.
There is a rustling sound from nearby, leather shoes squeaking on the tile of the floor.
Rushing to your side your father inspects you with wide, fearful eyes , his grey-flecked hair tossed and messy.
“My boy! Aster! What’s the matter?!”

[You gain the achievement: Apart from the Wheel]

= P.S. =
Your eyes water, body doubled over, knees knocking - It’s hard to breathe through the coursing pain.
Stumbling several feet to lean on a nearby post box, you wince as a spear of intent plunges into you.
The street lights abruptly shutdown, you don’t notice it in the moment.
You need to find a computer.
You don’t know why, but its an absolute certainty that you must find one as soon as possible.
Stepping unsteadily from comforting support of the squat, red, postage repository, you turn towards the post office proper.
Another pulse of agony runs through you.
It feels as though your skull is going to crack open.
Shapes and blocks of shifting figures flicker erratically back and forth across your vision, intensifying slowly.
Soon you’ll barely be able to see five feet ahead of you.
You decide to go with the flow, and with that surrender the pain seems to become a little less sharp.
Moving with urgency, you pluck a hefty rock from a nearby arrangement of decorative plants and move around the back of the post office.
Obeying the pull of instinct you beeline for a low window, shutter blinds closed to obscure the interior.
Without hesitating, you slam the stone in your hand against the cheap glass pane, shattering it easily then smashing out all the shards left jutting up from the bottom of the pane.
A shrill alarm blares out from within the building, you ignore it - vaulting through the window frame and landing in a dim backroom office.
There’s a suitable computer nearby - totally dead, depowered – but that doesn’t seem to matter.
You’re drawn to the device with an almost magnetic inevitability.
Before you can even think to do so, your body is already reaching out.

= PETE =
You fall roughly away from the window - clutching at your head, clawing at your eyes – an irrational reflex to an equally irrational scenario. You sure do wish you could think of a way to stop the burning icepick scrambling your brain right now, but coherent thoughts are getting hard to come by thanks to the aforementioned scrambling.
Through the crackling buzz overriding your mind, something slithers forth.
THE COMPUTER
You grimace as another wave of nonsense numerals sweeps over your consciousness.
Okay, you could use the computer to call for help, that’s certainly not a bad idea. Wildly wheeling in the direction of your PC, you can’t help but be surprised that you could compose it in this state.
Actually something about this doesn’t feel natural, maybe…
THECOMPUTERTHECOMPUTERTHECOMPUTERTHECOMPUTERTHECOMPUTERTHE

(DC: 16 vs 8+4)
[Failure]

Froth builds at the corner of your mouth.
A blinding streak of pain runs from the base of your spine to the back of your skull.
Your eyes go glassy.
Lurching across your room, your body twists and contorts itself into your desk chair.

>>5541219
>>5541228
>>5541232

As your clammy palms set upon the computer’s keyboard, the monitor seizes in flashes of colour.
The device apparently as surprised as you are as it splutters to life in violation of all known laws of physics.
Instead of launching to a home screen, the PC immediately deposits you at the computer’s Command Prompt application.
Thoughts choked beneath a throbbing tide of incomprehensible information, your twitching fingers hungrily go to work, jabbing at the keyboard at dizzying speeds
Without dedicating conscious thought to the task, you input strings of nonsense commands into the console - the pressure in your head easing with each line jabbed into the keyboard
With a final brutalizing stroke of the ‘enter’ key, the compulsion releases its grip on you and your body sags with relief.

= Glancing up, you notice that you are being prompted by machine =
= It is demanding that you submit sacrifice =
= There is a message on the following line, in a distinctly non-standard font=

THE FIRST LAMB WAS TAKEN TO OPEN THE ASPIRANT’S PATH
THE SECOND WAS OFFERED TO EASE THE FAITHFUL’S PILGRIMAGE
THE THIRD SLICKENED THE ASCENT AND BOUND THE GLUTTON TO DOOM

= You *must* sacrifice at least one of your treasures =

>>5541226
= The prologue is not yet over, but you find yourself in an uncommon position =
= You, and you alone, have an opportunity to make an action =
= Consider this Turn 0 =

>>5540801
[A strange calculation oversight.]
[Thank you for highlighting it.]


>>5540829
[Changes confirmed.]

>>5541072
[Unfortunately, you don't have excess Lifestyle points.]
[I cannot implement these changes]
[Apologies for any confusion caused by this error.]

>>5541264
Can I put the two points into CQC?

>>5541267
> [You may reallocate Lifestyle points to do so.]
> [Your current expenditure is as follows:]
Lifestyle: +2 Def, +2 Sha, +2 Investigate, +2 Writing (8/8)

> [ A Lifestyle section, like the one above, will be added to all character sheets to ease recordkeeping.]
> [Your full Character sheet is as follows:]

= P.S. =
Stats:
[Sub]: 2+2 || [Sha]: 2+3 ||
[Dep]: 2+2 || [Def]: 2+2 ||

Skills:
{Marksmanship: 1} || {Investigation: 2} || {Writing: 2} ||

Treasures:
(Engraved Sardonyx Signet Ring)
(Silver Tide Fountain Pen)
(Sanguine-Stained Handkerchief)

Sex: Male (+2 Sub)
Race: Caucasian (+2 Dep)
Age: Adult (+1 Sha, +1 Marksmanship)
Lifestyle: (8/8 || +2 Def, +2 Sha, +2 Investigate, +2 Writing
Starsign: Born under the [REDACTED] (6,10)

>>5541237
The sudden end of the heat in my head and the pressure on the inside of my eyes brought gasping relief but no true comfort, the mere absence of the worst sharp piercing agony I had ever experienced, not the reflexive pleasure accompanying a good shit. An abrupt end to torment, nothing gained, simply further loss avoided. I felt ill. Awareness came to me slowly as I groped my aching limbs that had been thrashing moments ago. My hands were clammy, bile rose in my throat and I struggled to avoid gagging, I felt confused, my limbs ached but my chest was numb where heat had flashed red hot moments ago.

I glanced at the screen. Unexpectedly not the old Terminal font. It provoked a sickening sense of unavoidability and finality, not a maddening compulsion laced with an aftertaste of confusion like before.

I-I...I didn't want to do this. They were mine. Mine. Mine alone. Why were they taking what I had left? They were all I had left. Why is this happening to me. Why are you doing this to me? Why...? Why!? WHY!?!

...

...

...

~*~

...I didn't want father's knife anyways. It burdened me. Burdened me with guilt and nightmares. Tied me to death, both figuratively and legally. It was hard to wield and not suited for the uses I needed. But it was one of the things I had left.

I came here to have fun, to experience pleasure, to die. I gave up on living, on fixing my life, on reconciliation, on redemption. I want more from life, not less.

I HAD...to sacrifice something. I knew it. I gave up the knife.

Feeling silly I proffered up the bowie-knife like one of those stuffy aristocrats from a movie, holding it gently in the palms of my hands held together facing up. With elegance and gravitas I didn't quite have. I felt stupid. I waited, holding it in front of the computer screen.

And waited...

Nothing happened.

A new pressure brought a fresh wave of agony to my head, this time entirely natural. WHY WAS NOTHING HAPPENING!? THIS WAS SO STUPID!

In a fury I slammed the knife through the computer monitor and I'm suddenly lost. My hand isn't full of glass at least. The knife is gone. Slowly I recall the seconds I lost and what just happened.

>I sacrifice Kin-stained Bowie Knife

>>5541264
No problem.

The children are gonna need some sane, healthy adults in their lives for sure. Hopefully these ones are up to the task.

>>5541226
Aster senior must be going senile. Aster is a woman, I think.

>>5541237
Coherent thoughts are still very difficult at this point, so Pete's subconscious takes over, takes in the prompts and the words they use, takes inventory of what he has.
>Book: Childhood, at token of what he was. A door to magic, a different world with different rules.
>Drive: Life, part of what he was and is. A door unto himself, to steady oneself and remember.
>Bone: Error/ Finality. A door to elsewhere. A grim reminder of the cycle.

The first lamb is t open the path. Only the book will do. The others must be kept in reserve.

Had he been in full possession of his cognitive abilities, and had he not just went through the single most painful experience of his short life, Pete would have certainly tried to keep everything, refusing outright or trying to squirm out of the rules. Perhaps fortunately, Pete's brain is too scrambled to see past pain-avoidance, and if it means losing something, might as well be the thing that is mostly replaceable. Limiting loss of data and all that. The words also influence the choice. What better door than an open book, after all? And the words of the prompt make it clear this will not be the last sacrifice. Better keep the more precious things in reserve for when they would be sorely needed. The drive and "rock" to either ease the journey or complete it.

Pete's hands grab at the chair he collapsed in, at the desk, at the nearby bookshelf as he pulls out the book from its spot and lays it onto the desk in front of the impossible machine.

>Pete sacrifices his "Collector’s Edition of ‘The Colour of Magic" Treasure as the First Lamb, to open the way into this strange new reality. The colour of magic cannot be seen by most, and Pete truly has seen something just as impossible tonight. And he'll need the resistance to absurd situations and characters, he feels.

File: Spoiler Image (1.44 MB, 1242x1341)

1.44 MB JPG

>>5541374
> Aster senior must be going senile. Aster is a woman, I think.

Rolled 2, 2, 6, 6, 4, 6, 1, 4, 5, 4, 3, 5 = 48 (12d6)

>>5540829
(minor correction, I forgot Adult granted me a stat, so my Sha is actually 2+2, not 2+1)

>>5541226
>>5541237
>3 AP: Write down as much of the equations and symbols as I can while I still remember them
>1 AP: Confide my harrowing experience to my father

You startle as the edges of the sacrificed book become fuzzy and flicker intermittently, as though you were viewing it through the grainy static a low-resolution CRT screen.
Tearing your eyes away from the dematerializing book you turn your attention back to your PC – searching for some kind of explanation.
The PC’s monitor glitches, the wall of incoherent code hanging in a collage of malfunctioning pixels which seems to be endlessly stacking over itself as your computer’s tower hums and whines alarmingly.
Before you can consider backing away, the screen erupts with piercing white, an imprint of the Spotlight’s jittering, spirographic outline is burnt onto your retinas as you are swallowed in a blinding sea of light.

= You awaken on the floor of your room shortly thereafter, however it is not the identical to how it once was =
= The ceiling and any floors above it are gone, along with anything – or anyone - occupying them =
= The walls and furniture seem to have been blackened and have crumbled into smoldering ruins, as though exposed to immense heat =
= The PC that once rested before you is gone, replaced by an obelisk - towering easily three stories and roughly thrice as wide as you - composed of a glossy indistinct material and marked with an unfamiliar symbol =
= You ache all over and seem to be coated with a fine layer of ash, but are otherwise unharmed =
= Inspecting the contents of your mind, you detect no more intrusive urges. =
= Additionally, the barrage of information that had swarmed your cognizance and vision are gone =
= Not just gone, the specifics of them are scoured from your memory. You remember that how the information infested you, but whenever you reach for details about that information you come up blank =

(1/2)

File: T0.png (33 KB, 1044x809)

33 KB PNG

>>5542523
= PETE =

Your room, no, the entire upper floor is utterly trashed.
There's absolutely no way you could explain this away.
Half-absently, you roll onto your back, only to be met with the Spotlight glaring back - ever indecipherable and untouchably distant.
A small flash of light manifests from the Spotlight, followed closely by a steady stream of other flashes.
Moments pass as specks of light form in the mangled skies, descending in dazzling streaks like falling stars.
The tension that had settled over Serenade is immediately shattered as those stars make landfall
A cluster of earth-shaking impacts rattle the Stage, eliciting a asymmetrical chorus of human distress and suffering.
Following the bombardment, the Spotlight menaces with phosphorescent intensity until it becomes impossible to directly observe, enveloped by a multi-ringed corona. Sinking closer, until it had ballooned to triple the circumference of the moon.
At this point a message is conveyed, not through the crudity of language but through an inescapable tidal wave of intent – projected conceptualization inundating consciousness with dire portents.

= ASPIRANTS, HEED =
= CAST AWAY EARTHLY MOORS AND ASCEND =
= TREAD UPON THE WORTHY AND FAULTLESS AND ASCEND =
= ASCEND, FOR PERSISTENCE, FOR PRINCIPLE, FOR PERNICIOUS AMBITION =
= REACH HEAVEN THROUGH VIOLENCE =

In this wake of this announcement, a suffocating blanket of silence settles over the city.

= ASTER =

The monitor coughs up a spray of sparks as you drive the vicious knife into it – and through it – wait, past it?
After a momentary hitch, the hilt of the blade is sucked through the glass of the screen, then it just hangs there within an impossible space between the command prompt program and the fractured but very-much-not-shattered glass of the monitor – the preposterous situation carrying on with an almost mocking tone.
Past the spiderweb of cracks in the glass, you see the visual glitches accumulate and corrupt the digital interface, leaving the data jumbled and discolored.
The wall of incoherent code you’d involuntarily input seemed to have become a repeating fractal set upon a mosaic of technicolor digital noise as the tower hums and whines alarmingly.
Before you can consider backing away, the screen explores – ejected glass shards and the cast away knife seemingly disintegrating before they can tear your flesh to ribbons.
Your eyes sting mightily as an alabaster wave envelops you, an imprint of the Spotlight’s jittering, spirographic outline burnt onto your retinas as you are swallowed in a blinding sea of light.
You try to close your eyes, but its still there. Growing ever brighter behind your eyes, until you finally pass out.

= You awaken on the floor of the same room shortly thereafter, however it is not the identical to how it once was =
= The ceiling and any upper floors are gone, along with anything occupying them =
= The walls and furniture seem to have been blackened and occasionally lay in ruins, as though exposed to immense heat =
= The PC that once rested before you is gone, replaced by an obelisk - towering easily three stories and roughly thrice as wide as you - composed of a glossy indistinct material and marked with an unfamiliar symbol =
= You ache all over and seem to be coated with a fine layer of ash, but are otherwise unharmed =
= Inspecting the contents of your mind, you detect no more intrusive urges. =
= Additionally, the barrage of information that had swarmed your cognizance and vision are gone =
= Not just gone, the specifics of them are scoured from your memory. You remember that how the information infested you, but whenever you reach for details about that information you come up blank =

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>>5542540
It's unusually quiet. Not silent, you can still hear noise outside - distance cries, the frantic pounding of running feet – but something is missing.
After a moment you pin it down.
The telltale rustling of the people moving around in the rooms immediately around you is gone.
Flakes of soot drift down from above. You try not to let your imagination run wild.
With a jolt of realization, you frantically begin patting yourself down. Searching for…
Ah, good. Your other treasures are still there – safely stowed in your inventory. Hugging them tightly against your frame, you breathe a long sigh.
Rolling onto your back, you are filled with instant regret. Wincing as the hateable form of the Spotlight stares impassively down at you - ever indecipherable and untouchably distant.
Abruptly, a streak of light bursts from the baleful, cutting through the static cosmic backdrop like a scratch on a record. Several other shooting stars follow the first, careening in all directions, then veering, gradually vanishing into a glimmering point of light.
Moments pass quietly, specks of light forming in the mangled skies falling away from the Spotlight – descend upon Serenade like, well, meteorites.
The tense peace that had settled over Serenade is immediately shattered as those fallen stars made landfall
For the second time tonight, explosive impacts rattle the Stage, and while a mere string of firecrackers compared to the wave of devastation caused by the Curtainfall, it still eliciting an decidedly negative - and extremely vocal - response for the surviving citizens of downtown Serenade.
Following the bombardment, the Spotlight menaces with phosphorescent intensity until it becomes impossible to directly observe gilded in a multi-ringed corona. The Spotlight sank closer to the stage until its visage dominated the sky, the rate of its oscillating transformations growing sluggish for some reason.
At this point a message is conveyed, not through the crudity of language but through an inescapable tidal wave of intent – projected conceptualization forcibly inundating consciousness with dire portents.

= ASPIRANTS, HEED =
= CAST AWAY EARTHLY MOORS AND ASCEND =
= TREAD UPON THE WORTHY AND FAULTLESS AND ASCEND =
= ASCEND, FOR PERSISTENCE, FOR PRINCIPLE, FOR PERNICIOUS AMBITION =
= REACH HEAVEN THROUGH VIOLENCE =

After this proclamation, a leaden silence hung over the city.

= ASTER =

>3 AP: Write down as much of the equations and symbols as I can while I still remember them
With your father’s assistance, you wobbly descend from the observation platform and sit down at a desk.
Even now, tiny pieces of arcane geometry and lines of foreign hieroglyphs tumble across your vision, like raindrops rolling down a windowpane.
However they are far less obtrusive and numerous than they were earlier, the accompanying bonesplitting bolts of anguish are also absent – downgraded to a lingering nuisance from a torturous debilitation.
Resting your heavy head on the table, your father hurries to the adjourning room to fetch you a cup of water. As jaunts off, fiddling anxiously with his cell phone, you hear him murmuring to himself about spotty reception.
You try to close your eyes, only to be met with the same sparse jumble of cryptographic sigils crawling across your mind’s eye. Blurry, semitransparent, but discernible.
Reluctantly, you pull yourself up and reach for a pen and a sheet of paper.
You really couldn’t let a mystery be, especially when it was so insistent on not passing you by.

= Perception Test =
= DC 12 vs 3d6+2AP+2Perception =
= 12 vs 14 =
= Success =

[Gain skill: {Lore of the Twelve-faced Wheel: 1} ]
[Gain Item: A Splinter of Implication]

By the time your father returns with a plastic cup of chilled water you had inscribed a page and half worth of obscure symbols and half-glimpsed illustrations. You weren’t quite sure what any of it meant yet, but it felt significant.
Placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, and setting the cup on the desk nearby, your father appraises your writings.
Scratching at his chin, he first asks:
“Hey kiddo, are you holding up okay? I tried to call an ambulance, but couldn’t get through. Might have something to do with that awful racket that happened during your…”

= Def: ‘… Seizure. It’s a reasonable assumption to make, given what he saw.’ =
= Dep: ‘He’s putting up a strong front, but dad’s clearly worried sick about us. Scared even.’ =

An awkward beat passes, prompting a swift change in subject.
Clearing his throat, you father gestures down at the scrawling transcriptions you’ve made.
“Erm, anyway… What’s all this? Trying out some therapeutic exercises? ”

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>>5542546
>1 AP: Confide my harrowing experience to my father
Inhaling deeply, you ask your father to take a seat, resolved to at least attempt to explain what you just experience – what you continue to experience.
He must have caught on to something in your expression because he doesn’t question you.
Hoisting himself up onto the tabletop next to you, he gestures for you to continue – a delicate motion, like coaxing a dove.
You explain everything, exhaustively - the bizarre shape in the sky, the paralysis, the intense pain, the onset of obsessive fixation, your vehement rejection of those urges, the esoteric data that was and still is rattling around in your head.
For his part, your father doesn’t interrupt though his brow does slowly knot in furrows over the course of your explanation.
When you finally run out of breath, a pregnant pause hangs in the air.
Your father is watching you closely, is that incredulity in his eyes, deepening concern for your health, maybe a hint of disappointment?

= Def: ‘Can we blame him for being skeptical? If we were in his position we’d probably be thinking along the same lines.’ =
= Dep: ‘Dad trusts us, that’s beyond doubt. He may not understand what we are saying, but he’ll believe that we experienced what he said we experience’ =
= Def: ‘Just because someone experiences something doesn’t mean it’s a credible account of reality. For example, schizophrenics experience all sorts of things but that doesn’t mean any of it actually happened.’ =
= Dep: That’s awful! Dad DOES NOT think we’re crazy. We’re not crazy! I’d know about it!’ =
= Def: ‘Would you?’
= Sub: ‘Damn, our throat is parched. Where’d that water go?’ =

At some point during that episode of self-reflection, you father had gotten to his feet.
Recapturing your attention by gently brushing your hair into place, he softly says.
“If that’s what happened, then that’s what happened.”
Picking up the now-no-longer-chilled cup of water, he continues.
“Have some water, it’ll help. Afterwards, we can figure out what exactly is going on and what to do about it.”

>>5541267
Be advised that any player that remains non-responsive for three turns, will spontaneously die of a stroke.
If you fail to act within two turns, you will be removed from play.

>>5541362
>>5541388
>>5541494

> # First Act, First Turn: Commence #
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NoOTbeKRhfA

Rolled 2, 5, 6, 2, 2, 4, 4, 3, 1, 5, 4, 4 = 42 (12d6)

>>5542549
>1 AP: Drink the water, attempt to recover from the ordeal
>1 AP: A racket you say? Take a brief look out the window and see what’s going on
>2 AP: Something is not right with the sky tonight. Make another observation of the night sky.

>>5542540
did you mean = ANISE =?

>>5542533
>TREAD UPON THE WORTHY AND FAULTLESS AND ASCEND
That doesn't sound good.
>REACH HEAVEN THROUGH VIOLENCE
Ah. Scheiße.

>>5542554
As he lay on the ash-covered floor of what used to be his bedroom, and for a single hallucinatory moment, Pete finds himself seriously pondering whether his absentee parents (currently away on a cruise/business trip) would actually care about half the house being gone or burnt to a crisp. Then his brain catches up. Yes, his father's study has just been reduced to smithereens, so he would probably not be too happy about it. At least none of the people they hire as stand-ins for parental affection stay during the night anymore, so thankfully none of them got hurt or worse.

Well, he corrects himself as he takes in the renewed screaming and the cryptic message, not hurt by whatever happened here at least.

What to do now?
Well he can't stay here. Given the chaos outside it could be hours or days before someone comes looking for him. If there's even a city left. That thing in the sky is getting awfully close and, assuming it was it that spoke, Pete doesn't like what it's offering. Sounds a bit too much like a cliche bad guy speech, or one of these weird Chinese novels he happened onto sometimes, with long names and even longer wordcounts, and filled with mean, dumb or outright evil people. Ascending to the heavens this, disregard others that. Reaching heaven through violence, really? Who says that?!

Young as he may be, Pete understands that he can't have been the only on this has happened to. And here's a reason he isn't supposed to be outside at night. Plenty of shady types around. Who probably went through the same deal. Who saw the message and took it to heart. Pete has one certitude. Things are going to get worse. He saw a documentary once about a catastrophe somewhere. Maybe an earthquake, maybe a flood. People went rabid. Now it's happening here. And if that message said the truth, those bad types who would normally take advantage of the situation may grow more powerful, like in those chinese novels.

Pete knows what he needs to do. He needs to get the f-(bleep) out of here.
But that's dangerous. And this obelisk...could it give him power? Power to protect himself? Power to fight the bad guys? Probably not, at least not much. Probably fueled by murder, or human sacrifice, or something silly like that. But just touching it and getting something basic could maybe be enough to make the prospect of a preteen fleeing the crumbling city on foot by night a little less suicidal...

(16/4=4AP)
>1AP: move downstairs, get some water from the tap and rinse off the ash.
The bathroom was on the same floor as his room, so the kitchen tap it is.
>3AP. Come back and touch the obelisk.
Maybe it gives him a goal, understanding of what's going on and how fast he can expect others to stat "ascending". Maybe it doesn't. Either way, it'll dictate how he does things after that.

>>5542617
> (Yes. That was supposed to labelled Anise.)

Rolled 1, 4, 2, 5, 4, 2, 6, 2, 4, 3, 5, 4 = 42 (12d6)

>>5542542
In the heavy silence that followed message from God - for what else could do this - I allowed myself a long moment of quiet despair. God hated me. What other explanation was there? It could be aliens instead, I guess, that might be not quite as bad. I, somehow, caused this. The Spotlight, or whatever it was, hated me specifically. The meteors didn't fall until after my weird seizure and impromptu programming geek session.

My thoughts wandered. With the lackadaisical effort of someone who knows they are damned I halfheartedly began brushing off some of the ash. Looking up again I considered the sudden lack of a roof. I left my sleeping bag up there, now just a bunch of floating ash. Thankfully I somehow had the insight to take my backpack and other belongings with me even in compelled state. Sleeping here wasn't an option, people would check the obviously artificially bisected building out, plus it would get cold. I really just want to sleep and wake up to find out this was a dream.

Time passed as I watched the strobe-lit streets and listened to the faintly pleasant screams, movie quality pitch. The dying residents of Serenade missed their calling as voice actors. A pity, both for them and the fact that I wouldn't have been able to listen to their work even had they followed that path. Maybe that was why this town was called Serenade.

The sound of feet pounding in the street below roused me from my reverie. I was wasting time distracting myself from the end to sanity. Reconsidering God's words - I'd never believed even once before tonight - I realized that perhaps I was misinterpreting this calamitous event for divine hatred, when in fact I had been chosen. God said "Stop giving a shit, rise up. The people who wasted their lives doing good, paying their taxes aren't my chosen, you are. Rise up, you gotta be consistent, for the sake of it, want more from your life. I'll let you into Heaven if you kill enough people", essentially, yeah, that's what those words meant.

I knew what I had to do.

Turning around from the window, I sprinted to the kitchen, nearly crashing into the counter in my haste. I threw open the drawers, looking for the sharpest knife and the highest quality steel. I needed a weapon, I was going to Heaven and no one was gonna stop me. Halfway through trashing the burnt and blackened kitchen I threw open the fridge, there had to be left-overs I could take. The meal on the stove was burnt to ash from whatever happened before, but the fridge would be a good insulator, right? If I couldn't find the right knife or enough food then I'd raid the nearby apartments, it sounded like everyone nearby died anyways.

For now I took the best knife I could find and some stuff that looked edible. Then I hurriedly filled my water bottles, rooted around looking for the wallet of whoever lived here, - I may not value money anymore but for a few more hours someone will - then walked over to the front door and listened. The hunt began.

>>5542542
>>5543167
>2 AP: Loot the apartment as fast as possible, looking for a high-quality knife, food, and cash.
>1 AP: Listen again, are the nearby apartments truly empty, or are people just standing shell-shocked looking out the window.
>1 AP: Creep towards lonely prey, if none nearby then in the lower floors or the streets and alleys outside. Look innocent.

>>5541237
The ring defines me, I can't lose it, and it's too early too loose the Handkerchief. The pen has seen much use, and though it is painful to separate from such a beautiful instrument, its function can be easily replicated. Gingerly pulling the fountain pen out, as if slowing down would cause the need of its sacrifice to pass, I let the pen roll from an opened hand into the computer's monitor, not wanting to commit to the payment of such a venerable item.

Rolled 3, 3, 2, 6, 2, 5, 6, 2, 4, 4, 1, 2 = 40 (12d6)

>>5542659
Ah, checking back, I realize I didn't roll for my AP spend, sorry!

=PETE=

> 1AP: move downstairs, get some water from the tap and rinse off the ash.
The bathroom was on the same floor as his room, so the kitchen tap it is.
- Remarkably, your bedroom door, as well as the segment of wall in which it is set, remains largely intact -
- However, as you attempt to push it open the door topples awkwardly out of its frame, landing with a crack -

= Sha: “Oh…” =
= Def: “The hinges are just gone. Heated to the point of liquifying going by the looks of it.” =

- Gingerly, you skirt around a small, hardened puddle of metal that had collected under your door, and proceed down what’s left of your upstairs hallway -
- Most of the walls have crumpled into charred rubble, occasionally you spot the husk of a picture frame amidst the ruin -
- They once displayed tasteful artwork and photographs of distant relatives -
- All those memories have been reduced to expended pieces of paper kindling now -
- You reach the stairwell, with the harsh light of the Spotlight beaming down from above you can very clearly see the line -
- That’s to say, there is a stark separation between the incinerated second floor and the totally normal, untouched first floor -
- As though the hypothetical inferno that torn through here reached the stairs and then suddenly remembered its crippling fear of heights… or right angles, there’s probably a word for that -
- Continuing downstairs, you confirm that things are indeed unchanged from how you remember leaving them before heading up to your room -
- Meandering over to the kitchen, you snatch a cup off the drying rack and fill it with tap water -
- You get about three quarters of a cup before the pipework under the sink emits a series of grinding groans and the waterflow trickles to a stop -
- You stare at the faucet -
- You stare at the faucet harder -
- You experimentally turn the tap off then on again, to no effect -

= Sub: “Well shit. How are we supposed to stay hydrated now?” =

(1/2)

>>5543978
> 3AP. Come back and touch the obelisk.
Maybe it gives him a goal, understanding of what's going on and how fast he can expect others to stat "ascending". Maybe it doesn't. Either way, it'll dictate how he does things after that.
- Splitting your limited ration of water between hygiene and hydration, you stomp back upstairs -
- Stepping through a place where a wall once stood, the desolation of your father’s office, and then across the boundary of a second missing wall, you come before the Obelisk -
- Or whatever its supposed to be -
- It’s big, made of some kind of polished grey stone that looks weirdly insubstantial, like its very slightly less than totally opaque.
- And on the other side there was a symbol inlaid into it, one which looked sort of like the Spotlight, but with a thick horizontal line through it -

= Def: “There really isn’t much more that a visual analysis can provide us.”
= Sha: “Time to poke it with a stick then. Here goes nothing.” =

- As you contract the surface of the monolith, the material beneath you palm begins faintly glowing -
- Suddenly, all resistance beneath your hand vanishes and you stumble into, then through, the spooky sorta-rock -
- Catching yourself, you swiftly realize that you are no longer on the destroyed second floor of your house -
- You appear to have fallen into a space inside of the monolith, a space markedly greater than that of the monolith’s volume would reasonably allow -
The space around you is cathedral-sized, not that you’ve been in many cathedrals in your time but this is about the scale you’d expect -
- The walls, including the one immediately behind you, are somewhat transparent and roil with curling patterns which shimmer and shift in a rainbow spectrum -
- Like oil on water -
- The space is vacant, except for a large rectangular stone plinth upon which sits a featureless stone column -

(2/3)

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>>5543979
= Def: There’s a breeze. No that’s not right. Something else… simulating the passage of wind. =

- The trace amounts of dust and ash you tracked in are lightly thrown up in your wake, as though a gentle gust of wind were blowing in from behind you -
- Sweeping towards the foreboding arrangement at the heart of this place, the phantom-wind begins encircling the pillar -
- The wind begins to howl as it picks up speed, meticulously shearing and shaving chips off the centerpiece with each rotation -
- Around you the sinuous, multicolored patterns dancing across the walls begin to unravel into blotting fractals rendered in hues of magenta and fuchsia -
- You notice that the withering winds, a tempest at this point, has weathered the untouched slab of sediment into a crude humanoid figure -
- The statue seems to be snapping something in half, but you cannot tell what from this distance -
- Just as before, your train of thought is utterly derailed as a deafening message barges its way into your mind -

= HEED ASPIRANT, SOUL-BOUND SCION OF THE PRINCE OF HEART =
= FOR THE CONQUEST OF THIS ALTAR YOUR BENEFACTOR OFFERS A REWARD =
= [THE PRIZE OF TOIL] =
= [THE PRIZE OF STRIFE] =
= [THE PRIZE OF BURDENS] =
= CHOOSE WISELY =

File: Aster_T1.png (38 KB, 1036x633)

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=ASTER=
>1 AP: Drink the water, attempt to recover from the ordeal
- The water does provide some relief, if only a little -
- You were much warmer than you consciously realized, and that heat had caused you to sweat -
- Sebastian is busying himself organizing a pile of papers that had been set astray at some point -
- You really do feel better, a little less tense if nothing else -

>1 AP: A racket you say? Take a brief look out the window and see what’s going on
- Your gaze catches on a window overlooking the markets of 44th –

= Perception test =
= DC 8 , 12 & 18 vs 3d6+Per =
= 8 , 12 & 18 vs 8+2 =
= Success, Failure, Failure =

- A property on the neighboring block is currently on fire -

= Def: "That’s the understatement of the century" =

- Indeed, the building, an apartment complex you think, is positively engulfed in flame -
- Cackling tongues of fire lick at the air from every window, the structure endlessly exhales vast plumbs of smoke that ascend in a billowing cloud -
- The ferocity of the blaze even threatens to spread to the other buildings on the block -
- A crowd of bystanders have gathered on the street below, you cannot hear them well over the fire -
- Above, the smog haze has begun to obstruct the spotlight’s callous observation of Serenade, spreading like a cataract over an eye -


>2 AP: Something is not right with the sky tonight. Make another observation of the night sky.
- Peering through the smoke, you immediately notice that something is awry with the placement of stars in the sky -

= Perception test =
= DC 7, 10 & 18 vs 3d6+Per+1Ap =
= 7 , 10 & 18 vs 8+2+1 =
= Success, Success, Failure =

- The constellations are wrong, in fact the entire starscape is horribly distorted -
- Stars are blurred in spiraling vectors, but what’s more they do not move.
- The cosmos is supposed to move over the course of the night -
- But the stars are motionless, affixed in position as though they were trapped in amber -
- Like someone cut away part of night sky and draped it around Serenade, twisting and stretching space in the process -

= Def: Not entirely accurate. Stars and other celestial objects do move, but not to a degree that it would mundanely perceivable relative to the surrounding expanse of space. What you are referring to is the shifting of perspective caused by the earth’s rotation. =

= ANISE =
>2 AP: Loot the apartment as fast as possible, looking for a high-quality knife, food, and cash.

- Directing an lazy kick at a nearby pile of crumbled drywall you survey your surroundings -
- The modest bedroom contains nothing of note, only the steel frame remains -
- If the owner kept any cash in the mattress then there’s no doubt that its toast -
- Curled, blackened flakes of wallpaper still cling to the exterior walls of the building -
- They’re solidly constructed, brick and mortar, still recognizable as a wall in most spots -
- Definitely a far cry from the droptile ceilings and quasi-carboard insulation of the interior walls. -
- Passing into the cramped kitchen suite, you continue picking through the rubble -

= Perception test =
= DC 10, 11 & 19 vs 3d6+Per+Ap =
= 10, 11 & 19 vs 7+4+1 =
= Success, Success, Failure =

- Most of the drawers and cupboards have collapsed or immolated entirely -
- You do find some cutlery in one of the lower draws -
- The majority of it has melted together into an utterly useless mass of metal -
- There’s a spatula which seems to have miraculously escaped with only slight malformation, but… it’s a spatula -
- Hardly a lethal weapon -
- You turn your attention to the fridge -

= Def: “It’s not a new model. Looks positively antique. Might even have lead in it.” =
= Dep: “I don’t envy whoever had to haul that slab of appliance up here.”

- It’s in astonishingly good shape, excluding some blackening and a crack running across the top -
- The door offers resistance when you pull at it -

= Def: “The rubber seal lining the door, the stuff that’s meant to keep the cold in, may have melted. Shouldn’t be too sturdy, just be careful not to pull the fridge on yourself.”
= Sub: “Plant your feet. Square your shoulders. One smooth motion.”

- Yanking hard, the door pops open with a ripping sound, like skin peeling off fabric but way stickier -
- Scanning the contents of the fridge, you find most stuff has been heated to an unappetizing state -
- Curdled dairy, pruned fruits, a withered chicken, fruit juice which you are pretty sure shouldn’t have this level of viscosity -
- There’s a quarter loaf of bread that looks decently edible, a bit crispy though -
- You also find a jar of honey, caramelized by heat exposure, but you’re pretty sure that honey never spoils so you should be okay -

(Gain item: 1x Pre-toasted bread)
(Gain item: 1x Caramalized honey)

- In the freezer compartment you find an empty pie tray -
- At the bottom of the tray there’s an undamaged carving knife inside, the hilt is sticky and crumb-dusted -

(Gain item: +1 Carving Knife)

(1/2)

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>>5543989
>1 AP: Listen again, are the nearby apartments truly empty, or are people just standing shell-shocked looking out the window.

- Tallying up your haul, you extend your secondary senses out across the floor -
- Trying to pick up any signs of life you might have overlooked earlier -

= Perception test =
= DC 9 vs 3d6+Per =
= 9 vs 12+4 =
= Success =

- Nothing, silent as the grave -
- However, you can hear people shuffling around on the floor below -
- They seem to be congregating in one location -

= Def: “There’s something else - traces of salt in the air. You can taste it on your tongue when you breathe through your mouth.” =

>1 AP: Creep towards lonely prey, if none nearby then in the lower floors or the streets and alleys outside. Look innocent.

- Tucking your newly acquired weapon away, you sneak down the blasted halls of the apartment complex -
- Though calling it a hallway is a stretch at this point, in certain places you can see to the other side of the building. -
- If there was any doubt before this confirms it, you’re the only survivor -
- Nobody but you has been through here, the ashes are undisturbed -
- Upon locating the stairwell you hear an swell of noise from downstairs, people are arguing, yelling really -
- Carefully descending the flights of stairs, you endeavor to avoid attracting any attention to yourself -

= Agility test =
= DC 14 vs 3d6+Agi+Stealth =
= 14 vs 12+4+1 =
= Success =

- On the first flaw, a small crowd of people have gathered, in the lobby annoyingly enough -
- Probably residents, at least a few of them for sure -
- Someone dressed in a security uniform of some description, and a pudgy weasel faced woman, are weathering an onslaught of puffed-up outrage, pointless questioning, accusations of incompetence, and unreasonable demands from the assemblage. -
- You probably won’t avoid scrutiny from the crowd if you try walking past them, given that you are covered practically head to toe in dust -
- Sidling around the fringe of the confrontation you disappear around a corner.
- You find yourself in a hallway lined with doors that presumably lead into apartments, some of the doors hang open.

= P.S. =
> The ring defines me, I can't lose it, and it's too early too loose the Handkerchief. The pen has seen much use, and though it is painful to separate from such a beautiful instrument, its function can be easily replicated. Gingerly pulling the fountain pen out, as if slowing down would cause the need of its sacrifice to pass, I let the pen roll from an opened hand into the computer's monitor, not wanting to commit to the payment of such a venerable item.

- Gossamer-thin wisps of smoke rise from the tip of the fountain pen as it rolls towards the computer -
- As it collides with the keyboard, a crackle of static electricity bridges the two objects for an instant -
- In the next instant the pen is gone, a fresh scorchmark still sizzling where it previously rested
- Your nostrils flare unconsciously as the piquant scent of burning ozone blows by -
- A shrill beep refocuses your attention back on the monitor -
- The command prompt application is barely discernible past a branching series of graphical errors that have compiled on the screen -
- Their distribution invokes a Lichtenburg Figure, but bereft of any semblance of curvature or elegance -
- As the distressed chirping approaches a crescendo it is joined by a disconcerting mechanical growl from the PC’s tower -
- The thought of distancing yourself from the malfunctioning machinery comes too late, as the screen erupts in a torrent of light so blinding in its intensity it almost seems to carry palpable force -
- You brace yourself against a cheap prefab privacy wall, as outlandish visions of infinitely complex spirographic shapes assail your consciousness in insurmountable waves -
- Layering atop each other until there is nothing to see, until consciousness itself is driven out of you –

= You awaken on the floor of the same room shortly thereafter, however it is not the identical to how it once was =
= The ceiling and any upper floors are gone, along with anything occupying them =
= The walls and furniture seem to have been blackened and occasionally lay in ruins, as though exposed to immense heat =
= The PC that once rested before you is gone, replaced by an obelisk - towering easily three stories and roughly thrice as wide as you - composed of a glossy indistinct material and marked with an unfamiliar symbol =
= You ache all over and seem to be coated with a fine layer of ash, but are otherwise unharmed =
= Inspecting the contents of your mind, you detect no more intrusive urges. =
= Additionally, the barrage of information that had swarmed your cognizance and vision are gone =
= Not just gone, the specifics of them are scoured from your memory. You remember that how the information infested you, but whenever you reach for details about that information you come up blank =

(1/2)

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>>5543992
- You lay still, eyes shut -
- You’re awake, have been for a while -
- The aberrant star, ‘The Spotlight’ something deep within your cognition quietly offers, looms above -
- Its resplendence is such that it seeps into your vision no matter how tightly you knit your eyelids -
- You just need a moment to process and collect your wits -
- The quiet reigning over Seranade stretches for a while, not true silence but certainly quieter than the city has been in some time -
- Something had to interrupt the moment of course -
- A keening roar of something soaring overhead, followed by a string of thunderclap impacts -
- One strong enough to buck you against the ground -
- Your head strikes the corner of something hard and you feel faint -
- Squinting, you can’t help but think that the Spotlight seems much closer than you remember it being -
- Once more, your skull is rattled as a commandment slams into you, comprised not of words but abstractions -
- Roaring like a lion, the message reverberates in your very marrow -
- It cannot, will not, be ignored -

= ASPIRANTS, HEED =
= CAST AWAY EARTHLY MOORS AND ASCEND =
= TREAD UPON THE WORTHY AND FAULTLESS AND ASCEND =
= ASCEND, FOR PERSISTENCE, FOR PRINCIPLE, FOR PERNICIOUS AMBITION =
= REACH HEAVEN THROUGH VIOLENCE =

- Your awareness briefly dwindles down to naught as you slip into a concussion-induced daze -

(For the sake of keeping the timeline straight, you’ve been knocked out for the duration turn 1)
(As this is an act of narrative fiat, you’ll reawaken at the start of Turn 2 with no negative effects)

>>5542617
>>5542659
>>5543167
>>5543241
> # First Act, Second Turn: Commence #

Rolled 4, 5, 5 = 14 (3d6)

>>5543996
>3AP: Search the remains of the building for anything valuable or useful, weapons, tools, even currency.
>1AP: Investigate the obelisk, try to figure out more about and what the symbol on it is

Rolled 2, 6, 6, 5, 4, 4, 5, 6, 5, 2, 4, 6 = 55 (12d6)

>>5543996
>1 AP: Share my observations with my father
>3 AP: Try to piece together what might be happening, was there a connection with our previous research?

Feeling a little lost as to what I should do or be working towards; I guess I'm doing research/thinking right now?

Rolled 1, 4, 5, 3, 4, 1, 3, 3, 1, 5, 5, 4 = 39 (12d6)

The water turning off is another point in favor of Pete's scenario of things going to "heck in a handbasket". All of the tubing involved in getting the water to the kitchen sink can't possibly have been damaged by whatever happened in his room, so chance is, the rest of the city is out of tap water as well. He doesn't make the link to one of the meteors likely impacting a critical part of the infrastructure, he just knows that the lack of available water will cause people to turn on each other a lot more quickly. He read a book about it once! The sooner he gets out of here, the better, he thinks as he touches the obelisk.
...
Oh. That is more than what he had expected. An actual reward, just like that? Also, aspirants seem to be under entities, or princes? That's not good, he's willing to be they don't play nice with each other. Another reason to lay low. As for a reward, well they're not the clearest...and what is a toil anyway? Could these be curse? Well it's not like he has a choice.
The Prize of Burdens appeals to him as a plan begins to form. Maybe those prizes only work when he does the thing? If bad things happen and he has the prize of strife, maybe it'll do something?
Well, a burden is something heavy, and he intends to find a bag, grab whatever he can find at home, and get moving, so he'll be burdened, right? With no extra information, Pete takes what vaguely makes sense to him.
Finding food and water shouldn't be the hardest. The fridge is in the kitchen, but there's also the garage. No car, but a lot of storage for food. Since his parents aren't here, it'll mostly be non-perishables like pasta, which he can't make much use of, and probably some candy, which he'll gladly take. Also some bottled water. Which would be great if the 1.5L plastic bottles weren't so heavy!

The real problem will be finding a bag. Sure they have plenty of old discarded bags, from schoolbags to suitcases to backpacks...all stored in the attic. But maybe someone had left a bag laying around downstairs? That should be his first step once he's out of the obelisk, Pete decides. No use gathering food and water if he only finds a paper or plastic shopping bag to carry stuff in!
...
Ah, he still hasn't properly picked a prize...perhaps speaking it aloud?

"I...I'll take the Prize of Burdens, please, thank you..."

>2AP: Brace for another round of pain and select The Prize of Burdens.
>2AP If he doesn't get knocked out again, search the downstairs and garage for a bag.

Reposted with trip and dice rolls this time!

Rolled 4, 6, 3, 3, 1, 1, 3, 1, 1, 5, 6, 1 = 35 (12d6)

>>5543996
As I slipped out of the stairwell and around the corner into a hallway I took a moment to reflect on the decision I just made. Was I really going to do this? Kill people for a chance to get into what I assumed was heaven, a heaven offered by a sick fuck that I assumed was capital g God but could in fact be some alien doing the equivalent of turning on the TV after work? Reason or the afterlife had never motivated me before, not since I fled home. Why would it now? No, I understood, I'd never been convinced God was real or even could be real or that life had meaning or of an objective good. There was no point pursuing an eternal paradise that I not only didn't believe existed but that I didn't even believe *could* exist.

A particularly loud shout from the nearby crowd followed by a probably coincidental scream of broken metal and oddly erratic rumbling from outside made me reconsider reflecting out in a random hallway. I picked up the pace from my slow creep, opting to walk with purpose down the hallway, openly glancing through the open doors, trying to find an empty apartment.

Having found one I thought was empty I looked up and down the hallway to make sure I was alone and then crept into apartment and then into the bathroom. I closed and locked the door and then sat down on the toilet seat to try and decompress some more.

Taking a moment to just breath, I considered my motivation again. The crowd and security guard present in the lobby probably had more than a bit to do with my sudden hesitance with murder and subsequent return to what I thought were my values, yes. I'd suffered so long, my happiness and future had been ripped away, my chance at closure was abruptly stolen, my memories once clear were now fuzzy and I had to rely on my book to remember fonder times. Paradise could be real, but the gatekeeper was suspicious and cast doubt on the beauty of such a place. I had probably just done what I'd normally have done, get a replacement knife and steal essentials, but new info and a desire to win and live out a fantasy had convinced me to kill and set off my abandonment of even the barest hint of morality. Now I was ping-ponging between almost acting like a depraved spree-killer and my normal pathetic self agonizing on someone's toilet.

...

Enough moping. It was time to make my decision and move. I plugged the sink, turned on the water and began wiping off the ash as best as I could, periodically washing it off my hands in the sink. When I was done I opened the door and moved to the window and opened it as well.

I paused one last time considering how to proceed. I came here to do fun stuff, sex, drugs, learn new things, do fun stuff, then die. That was what I wanted. But the chance of accessing Heaven was so tempting now that I allowed the possibility of it being real. I...I think I'll leave it up to who I meet. I just need to find a lone person to talk to, who they are will decide whether I'm a killer or just a loser.

>>5543996
>>5544786
>1 AP: Adapt a 'social stealth' stance. Look like I belong, peer into open apartments, find empty one, go in undetected.
>1 AP: Plug sink. Pour water. Wash off the ash. Ignore sudden interruptions if I misjudged and am not alone.
>2 AP: Go outside. Look for very isolated person who my intuition tells me is the right person to decide my fate.

Fuck, those are some bad rolls.

I know I was kinda ramping up to immediately get murdering, but I wanted to show some inner conflict with "Anise" to show that she isn't just psychotic. Her reasoning of what lead her to this point and her current decisions was originally gonna be different and less repetitive, but I literally forgot what I was gonna write owing to a sudden loss of my train of thought. That, and the nearby crowd certainly helps dissuade sudden murder, as does the notion of attracting what remains of police attention to my obelisk site. This way I had a chance to wash off the ash that has drawn a lot of focus so far, and to ease "Anise" into either committing to aggressive mass murder or just doing her own thing with a side dish of figuring what the fuck is going on while defending herself, rather than immediately coming to a final decision and going all out while leaving a trail of ash.

Rolled 6, 1, 5 = 12 (3d6)

>>5544033

=PS=
4, 5, 5, 6, 1, 5
>3AP: Search the remains of the building for anything valuable or useful, weapons, tools, even currency.
Appraising the piles of rubble, some pieces still emberpocked and lightly smouldering, you begin scanning your surroundings for anything remotely useful -

[Perception test]
[DC 11 & 17 vs 3d6+(Def/2)+Investigation+Ap]
[11 & 17 vs 14+2+2+2]
[Success, Success]
- Amidst what may have once been splinters of the cheap desk the PC stood upon and the hopelessly twisted plastic husk of a waste paper basket, you find an intact iron letter opener -
- Further investigation leads you to a room filled with a large, thoroughly slagged piece of machinery and a whole lot of ash -

= Def: “Hard to tell, but this might be a mail sorting room, prior to… whatever occurred here.”=

- Between the mechanism’s base and an exterior wall you manage to find a cramped compartment -
- Within this space is a heatwarped, but intact toolbox -
-Unfortunately it seems to be locked -

>1AP: Investigate the obelisk, try to figure out more about and what the symbol on it is
- Walking a circuit around the obelisk, you try to uncover any hidden details that might proffer a clue as to its origin or purpose -
-However after a few minutes of inspection, it becomes evident that the large spinographic design adorning one face is the only detail on its glossy, unblemished exterior -

[Perception test]
[DC 8 & 13 & 20 vs 3d6+(Def/2)+Investigation]
[8 & 13 & 20 vs 12+2+2]
[Success, Success, Failure]

(1/2)

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>>5545835
- The icon is receded into the stone a few centimetres, and consists of horizontal bar overlaid upon a relatively simple spirograph pattern -
- Specifically, the shape is comprised of an inner circle surrounded by a roulette pattern of curving, intersecting lines, forming 48 discrete diamond-shaped sections -
- On close inspection, there are no signs that the Icon was chiselled into the rock -
- In fact, the entire monolith lacks the subtle scrapes and scuffs of a monument that was carved from a greater piece of material -
- As improbable as it is, Its almost as though this artisanal example of stonecraft came into being already fully formed -

-As you do one final circuit around the statuesque monument, you happen to catch something out of the corner of your eye-
-While incidentally looking past several collapsed walls and through a frameless window, you see an oily, glittering blob of something drop into your frame of vision at terminal velocity, splattering messily on the ground-
-You stare for a moment perplexed, however before you can decide on a course of action you witness the star-spangled goo shudder then begin pulling itself together -
- Congealing and condensing, the star-ooze kneads itself into shape, a humanoid shape -
- As crude texture fades in over the figures geometry, it spasms then hops to its feet -
-Standing in the street outside, reaching about a third of a meter high - is a gibbering impish biped, its hideous features set upon a glossy black hide-
- Hooting excitedly the creature sniffs at the air, or rather makes heavily exaggerated pantomime of the action, then pivots in the direction of the ruined post office -

= Def: “What the hell is *that*?!”=
= Sub: “Meh, I could take it.”=
= Dep: “It hasn’t noticed us yet, I think. Though its tricky to accurately get a read on something with facial features that look like they’re drawn on with crayon. =

=ASTER=
Rolled 2, 6, 6, 5, 4, 4, 5, 6, 5, 2, 4, 6
>1 AP: Share my observations with my father

- Tugging on your father’s sleeve, you direct his attention to the window -
- Boggling openly, the old man shuffles up to the window, pushing himself up against the glass to get a clearer view of the immense expanse of the Theatre Drapes -

Sebastian: “What in the Dickins!”

- Standing at his side, you point out the finer details that you managed to discern -
- As you present your analysis, you notice the hardness of his expression, a facial tick familiar to you -
- You father always assumed this intense expression when attempting to decode particularly irksome problems… or when trying to complete the morning crossword puzzle -
- His eyes seem brighter, ravenously curious, scanning the scene before him meticulously -
- As you wrap up, your father pauses for a moment, seemingly expecting you to say more, then turns to you -

Sebastian: “And? Come now my dear, don’t tell me you overlooked the strangest details.”

- You stare your old man down blankly and he matches your gaze, barely containing a wry smile though not the mischievous twinkle in his eye. -
-Succumbing to his dadly charm, you roll your eyes playfully and gesture for him to elaborate-

Sebastian: “No-no, you’re much too old to be spoon-fed. Instead look to the horizon, then tell me what you notice.”

- You squint, the flickering orange glow and the expanding veil of smoke constricting your vision. -
- Mildly irritated you step closer to the window and adjust your viewing angle -
- As you gaze down the avenue intersecting the 44th, you see it and your breath catches -
- Instead of the distant highrises of Uptown Serenade, and two dozen or so blocks of urban corridor leading to them, she was met with an impenetrable wall of darkness and distorted starlight. -
- Directionally north of your current position, the horizon was less than a block away. -
- Upon reaching this revelation, something akin to claustrophobia crawls down your back-
- Not only that, but several pieces of local architecture look to be distinctly out of place -
-Spires of rock jut from several of buildings, something which you are quite certain weren’t there before tonight-

(1/2)

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>>5545843

>3 AP: Try to piece together what might be happening, was there a connection with our previous research?
-Pinching your temple, you make a spirited attempt to slot the pieces of this madman’s puzzle together -
-Calling upon your occupation experience, you carefully mull over what you have learnt -

=Intellect Test=
=DC 15 & 21 & 42 vs 3d6+(Def/2)+Astronomy+Ap =
= 15 & 21 & 42 vs 13+2+2+2 =
= Success, Failure, Failure =

- You start with the basics, the morphing spirograph above Serenade seems to be the instigating force behind of these otherworldly happenings -

=Def: “Well, first off spirograph technically isn’t the name of the actual shape. It’s the name of the instrument used to render the shape. =
=Dep: “Which has a history of being sold as a novel, but somewhat unpopular, widget-toy. However, kids weren’t terribly interested in giving themselves carpel tunnel drawing funny patterns when they could be playing videogames instead, and the adult markets for such gadgets are limited to say the least.” =
=Def: Fascinating, but unless the CEO of Big Spirograph has gone full supervillian and is finally enacting his revenge plot on the world, also probably not relevant.”=

-Something pings in your memory -
-Many of your less academically credible contemporaries would always rave about the beauty of sacred geometry-
-The idea that God could manifest through, or existed within, certain shapes and mathematical models to an extent -
- Among the list of esoteric examples provided, some form of spirograph pattern would always be present -
-You’d always dismissed it as eccentric mysticism, but it might turn out to be significant -
- Unfortunately, you never delved deep into this particular subject matter and to your growing exasperation you haven’t the foggiest idea of how to link it back to your current situation-
- With a sigh, you file the revelation away for the moment -
- Your father, turning from his spot by the window and springing over to you, addresses you -
- There’s an rising edge of excitement in his tone -

Sebastian: “Hey, I’m just going to pop downstairs for a few minutes. Just to check on the car and get a fuller bearing of the, uh… sky situation. Be back in a tick okay?”

=PETE=
Rolled: 1, 4, 5, 3, 4, 1, 3, 3, 1, 5, 5, 4
>2AP: Brace for another round of pain and select The Prize of Burdens.

-Once more you find comprehension being beamed into your thoughts regardless of your readiness -
-Thankfully you were ready for it this time, but it still feels as though someone relaying a dream to you.. via megaphone… while standing directly next to you-

=BEFORE ALL THAT IS, THERE WAS THE VAST TIDELESS SEA=
=PURE AND SINGULAR, BOUNDLESS AND PEERLESSLY ABYSSAL=
=ALL THAT EXISTED WAS SEA, EXISTENCE WAS THE SEA, AND ALL WAS WELL=
=YET WITHIN THAT DEEP AND LOVELY DARK SOMETHING ELSE WAS CONCIEVED=
=SOMETHING THAT WOULD DESPOIL THE TIDELESS SEA’S VIRGINAL FORM FOREVER=
=AN ABOMINATION THAT HERALDED DESOLATION FOR THE SEA’S ETERNAL PEACE=
=POCKETS OF PRESSURE, WHICH WENT ON TO CULMINATE IN SCREECHING HEAT=
=SHORTLIVED PINPRICKS OF UNSTABLE RADIATION SUSPENDED WITHIN THE SEA =
=DISFIGURING THE VOID’S SIMPLICITY WITH UNCEASING PHOTONIC DISCHARGES =
=THE PRIMORDIAL FOREBEARERS OF THE EMPYREAN=

-Deep discomfort pulses from behind your eyes as something is briefly overlain across your vision-

(Gain 25 [AUTHORITY])
(Gain 1 ‘Fragment of Antediluvian History’)
-Diminutive motes of light, which you initially mistook for errant particles of dust caught strangely in the light, flit through the air towards you -
- Thinner than hair, insubstantial, and shedding faint light, the motes restlessly jitter and reorientate as they hover -
- You swat at one but it simply passes through your hand, the brief instant of contact producing a subdued buzzing sensation that sends goosepimples down your arm -
- The specks of gleaming thread congregate into tight curved ranks above your brow, where they remain, inert as they slowly orbit your cranium -

>2AP If he doesn't get knocked out again, search the downstairs and garage for a bag.
-Stepping into the garage, you immediately gag on a citrus miasma, built-up to a nauseating degree due to a lack of proper ventilation-

[Perception Test]
[DC 8 & 16 vs 3d6+(Def/2)+Ap]
[8 & 16 vs 7+2+1]
[Success, Failure]

(1/2)

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>>5545847
-The garage kept is freakishly tidy – cement disinfected and pressure washed bimonthly, shelving units organized impeccably with their contents clearly labelled, a comprehensive display of tools safely contained by a plexiglass covering affixed to the wall above a disused but impeccably maintained work shelf-
-You’re pretty sure a car has actually never been in this garage, with this being the family’s away-home visitation is usually only transitory-

=Def: “I still don’t comprehend the logic behind building an affluent manor smack-bang in the middle of one of the sketchiest parts of Serenade.” =
=Dep: “There are plenty of things about our dear parents that defy explanation. Maybe we just don’t have enough zeros in our checking account to parse the eldritch reasoning of old money.=

- Getting at the tools is an impossibility, unless you find a way to break the tough plexiglass shells -
- The cases weren’t installed with a means to access the contents once in place -
- They’re exclusively vanity pieces; objects of prestige, intended to be admired not used -
- The shelving units are extremely well stocked with all sorts of essentials, to be used in the event of an emergency - dehydrated food, bottled, batteries, flashlights, tents, disposable rain coats. -
- Enough to last for a week, perhaps longer if rationed competently -

=Def: “Well, I guess father’s prepper phase did pay off in the end.”=
=Dep: “Let’s hope he didn’t mouth off about it too much. Last thing we need are desperate people swarming the estate.” =
=Sub: “Bah, let them come. If we can’t defend our property, then we don’t have any right to it.”=

- Finally, your eyes settle on a large tray, filled with dense clumps of plastic -
- Plastic bags, not the cheap disposable ones you occasionally see caught in updrafts from your window, these bags are rather durable and double-lined to prevent linkage -
- The quantity of bags neatly packed into the tray has to be brushing up against the triple digits, predictably excessive -
- You settle on taking one for now, if only to get a gauge on how much one of these badboys can hold -

(You gain x1 ‘Heavyduty Plastic Bag’)

=ANISE=
Rolled: 4, 6, 3, 3, 1, 1, 3, 1, 1, 5, 6, 1
>1 AP: Adapt a 'social stealth' stance. Look like I belong, peer into open apartments, find empty one, go in undetected.

-As casually as a girl caked in cremated building (and possibly human) can, you stroll down the corridor -
- The doors to several rooms hang open, apparently vacated in a hurry -

=Stealth Test=
=DC 11 vs 3d6+(Sha/2)+Stealth=
=10 vs 13+4+1=
=Success=

-You glance sideway into each as you pass and then pass again, only one is visibly occupied -
- A preteen girl curled up on a couch, evidently teetering on the edge of sleep -
- She doesn’t notice you, and you double back slipping into one of the other rooms and carefully pulling the door almost-closed behind you -
- You want some privacy and you’re pretty sure apartments don’t lock from the inside, but you aren’t taking any chances -
-The room is pretty bare, containing little more than the fundamentals: Fridge, Bed, Microwave, and a door that presumably led to a bathroom-
-The only concessions made to personalization is a guitar leaning against the bed and a small stereo system with attached headphones on the bedside table-
-You scamper over to the bathroom and quietly sequester yourself inside -

(1/2)

>>5545854
>1 AP: Plug sink. Pour water. Wash off the ash. Ignore sudden interruptions if I misjudged and am not alone.
-You urgently examine the bathroom sink, aware that every second that passes is likely another second closer to the occupant returning to the room -
- You mentally catalogue everything before you: cologne, shaving products, toothbrush and paste, washcloth, a mirror containing a teenage girl staring back at you -
-No drain plug -
- You don’t waste time looking for it and just substitute the washcloth, It’ll work well enough -
- As you turn the water valve, you curse vitriolically as a horribly noisy rattling comes from the sink -
- Only a scant pittance of water is produced, soaking the washcloth and accumulating in a shallow pool on its skin-
- Employing what little you have been given by the capricious whims of wider universe, you use the washcloth to scrub your body down -
- While hardly pristine, you at least don’t look like you climbed down a chimney -
- Hopefully you look civilized enough to avoid attracting undue attention -
- Before leaving, you crack open the bathroom door and peek out -
- No stern homeowner waiting to apprehend you, great -
- With as much haste as is socially excusable, you streak out of the apartment and recommence you inconspicuous civilian charade -
- The speed at which you shift between these two states would be quite impressive if anyone was there to see it -
- As far as you can tell, most people are still congregated at the front: either engaged in a yelling match or watching the proverbial fireworks -


>2 AP: Go outside. Look for very isolated person who my intuition tells me is the right person to decide my fate.
- As you stride confidently out into the lobby, keeping close to the wall and out of the way, you catch a snippet of the ongoing conversation. -

Security Officer: “-echician staff are looking into the utility problem as we speak. I understand this is a troubling situation but I ask that you remain calm in the interim.”
Dog faced woman: “Be at ease good people! As a responsible landlady, I’ve seen to the installation of a backup generator and an array of roof-collection water tanks as a contingency for disaster scenarios, however our supply is limited and must be appropriately rationed unt-“
Barrel-chested man: “Fuck off ya miserly skank, I’m missing the big game! There’s serious money riding on this shit! Cut the bullshit and turn the power back on or so help I’m gonn-“

(2/3)

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=Dep: “Well, that was unpleasant. Feeling real vindicated in our decision to keep these people at arm’s length.”=
=Sub: “Fuck yeah! Feel that electricity in the air! A brawl’s on the edge of breaking loose! Maybe we’ll see a dead body soon. Maybe we’ll even get to make one!”=
=Sha: “Cut the running commentary and let me focus.”=

- You slip by most until you are but a few paces from the door, then a stunted mole of a man lingering by the door meekly confronts you -

“ Uh-h, ex-cuse me miss. W-ere not allowed to go-go outside ri-ight now. There’s a d-distater going on and Mr Haw-awthorne sai-“

-You ignore the nasally objections of the man -
- You *pointedly* ignore the stained, cartoon-decorated t-shirt he’s clothed in. -
-Not missing a beat, you sweep past the homely man, and exit out into the cool night air -
-For his part the man holds up his hand feebly, overbit mouth trying to form words but failing, eventually giving up in resignation-

=Dep: “He’s used to receiving this response from the fairer sex. Has fully internalized it.” =
=Sub: “And that’s the most disgusting thing about him. How can someone let themselves become so shamefully pathetic?”

- Surveying the street, you notice a woman nearby -
- She’s slightly older than and is you taking a long drag from a cigarette -
- She’s clearly aware of you, but is making a point of minding her own business-

=Perception test=
=DC 7 & 13 vs 3d6+(Def/2)+Ap=
=7& 10 vs 5+2+1=
=Success, Failure=

-You catch a flicker of movement on the rooftops across the street, but when you direct your focus up there you cannot locate the source.-
-Your eyes drift along the rooftops before, stopping upon a familiar object poking up from the obstruction roof’s edge -
-Another obelisk, almost identical to the one which you woke up beside-

File: PeteVisionT2.png (43 KB, 1818x1824)

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>>5545847
> -Deep discomfort pulses from behind your eyes as something is briefly overlain across your vision-

>>5544788
>>5544586
>>5544344
>>5544033
> # First Act, Third Turn: Commence #

Rolled 3, 6, 1 = 10 (3d6)

>>5545838
>4 AP stealthily follow the creature and observe it

Rolled 3, 1, 6, 6, 3, 5 = 24 (6d6)

>>5545865
>3 AP: Track the smoke going from the nearby building fire; does it reach the sky? (Maybe use a flashlight or laser)
I’m attempting to test if the abnormal night sky is actually a change of the stars, or if something has been arrayed above the city, like a dome or projection by seeing if the smoke interacts with a “ceiling”, or perhaps goes straight through a projection.
>1 AP: Father said the phone lines were inoperable earlier, try out other electronics and see what is working.

Rolled 6, 2, 5, 4, 3, 3, 5, 3, 1, 2, 5, 3 = 42 (12d6)

>>5545865
I considered rushing into the building across the street, hunting down whoever it was I saw. It couldn't be a coincidence that just after I resolved myself to choose between committing to violence and just living my life as originally intended based off the kind of person I ran into that I'd spot another obelisk and presumably another person who went through what I did. It would seem like an obvious thing for most people to prioritize the obelisk and the mystery person, but I was not most people.

I came out here to talk to whoever I saw, so that is what I was gonna do. Still, it felt kinda bad to bother someone who obviously just wanted to be alone and mind their own business, and mere seconds after brushing off someone who didn't know how to do just that thing. Ah, who was I kidding? I didn't really care what she wanted. It would be good for me to talk to someone around my own age, even better that they were slightly older.

Argh, but I hate smokers. What a thing to get caught up on. I wanted to be a hedonist for what remained of my life, but I couldn't tolerate a little paper wrapped sin, funny I guess.

Enough hesitating. I walked over.

>4 AP: Talk to the woman. Discuss "current events", shoot the shit. Eventually reveal I'm considering murder. Trauma dump. Ask for help.

lol "Anise" fails a spot check and assumes a random bystander is the fated person who can help her decide between being a killer motivated by a talking light show offering promises of heaven or just living her life. Instead of the person lurking near the obelisk literally across the street from hers.

>>5545865
Good news, that wasn't nearly as painful as expected. Bad news, that didn't look like something immediately useful, at least not in the self-defense category. Oh well.
Pete goes for a little tour of the garage turned perfumed paternal prepping paradise, and is met with limited success.
You would think Dad would have bought actual backpacks, but no, guess his idea of surviving the apocalypse was having a hundred people carrying stuff in bags for him. And it could maybe have worked, even. Not so much here, but the sturdy-looking plastic bag will have to do. At least he can drop it quickly if he gets in trouble!
Normally his next step would have been to get some food and water, but that strange half vision he had, like a weirder and more painful version of black spots, calls for a change of plans. Pete isn't sure how he knows, but he feels pretty certain that the pink thing in the center is the obelisk he touched. Pink, heart, there's a connection there. Chances are, whatever is overseeing this is showing him nearby obelisks. Chances are, they're white because they're unclaimed. Chances are, the only reason these obelisks are there is because someone went through the same stuff he did. Chances are, they heard that creepy message and are now armed, dangerous, and on a murderous warpath.
And there's on right next to him...great.
Okay, so weapons. Pete has no clue how to use a gun, knives could be an option, but a risky one. Maybe a piece of rubble? A metal bar or a wooden board would at least give him some range, and it's like a bat, or a spear, right? Just whack them or stick them with the pointy end?
Gloves would also probably help, Pete decides as he takes the bag with him. He could probably go for two, but he'll come back to that idea later, depending on what he can find to defend himself. Maybe there's a pair of yard-work gloves laying about somewhere? They'd almost certainly be too big for him, but they would help him not injure himself with his weapon, or if he has to search through more rubble or punch someone. He'll have to get dirty, might as well try and prepare for it.

>2AP Locate weapon. Preference for long pieces of wood or metal (long for him, anyway). Kitchen knife otherwise.
>2AP. Search for gloves. Gardening gloves, If none turn up, then a pair of mittens would do in a pinch.

Rolled 1, 4, 2, 3, 2, 2 = 14 (6d6)

>>5546919

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=PS=
>4 AP stealthily follow the creature and observe it
-You drop into a low crouch-
-Peeking out from behind a semi-sundered section of drywall, you attempt to covertly track the creature’s movements-

=Stealth Contest=
= DC 4+(Def/2), 7+(Def/2), 9+(Def/2), 11+(Def/2), 14+(Def/2) vs 3d6+(Sha/2)+AP=
= 4+1, 7+1, 9+1, 11+1, 14+1 vs 10+2+3
=Success=

-In a very short period of time you start detecting motion converging on the desolation-lashed post office from multiple directions -
-To the north east, there is a loud crunching bang, then silence-

=Def: “A singular impact. Sounded something dropping onto wood. Curious.”=

-To your east you hear the scraping rattle of the door being dragged aside, shortly after you hear several feet pattering across the charred wooden flooring of the Post Office lobby -
-The sound is muffled by the prodigious amounts of ash spread everywhere, but you are certain about what you heard-
-Thinking fast, you reposition to the space behind the scrapped sorting machine being very careful to avoid bumping the toolbox-
-You are very nearly spotted as another group of imps as they scramble through the window which you originally entered through, the imp you were observing is a part of this group-
-As you begin to mentally catalogue these potential threats, one oddity captures your attention-
-The creature immediately north of your current position appears to be encased in a sleek silver shell, as in its skin looks like burnished silver-
-The rest are unremarkable, one specimen is clutching a small glass vial but otherwise you can barely distinguish each member from the rest of the rabble-
-Fortunately these monsters don’t seem particularly interested in securing the area, instead they are largely fixated on the monolith-
-Presently the congregation are unintelligibly hooting and gibbering while clumsily jumping around, celebrating perhaps or worshipping the ominous monument-
-There’s a highset window directly to the west, by your reckoning it’s the only avenue to the street that doesn’t require you to fight through the inhuman assemblage-

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=ASTER=
>3 AP: Track the smoke going from the nearby building fire; does it reach the sky? (Maybe use a flashlight or laser)

-Returning to the window, you peer upwards into the rising column of smoke, minutes pass as you patiently wait-
-You’re scanning for signs of physical obstruction, if the Theatre Drapes were indeed tangible then that fact should become unmistakable as the trapped smoke collects around the Spotlight -

=Perception Test=
=DC 18 vs 3d6+(Def/2)+Ap=
=18 vs 10+2+2=
=Failure=

- Your eyes track the mushrooming peak of the smoke cloud as it approaches what you hypothesize is the pinnacle of the bell-shape dome ensnaring your little corner of Serenade-
-With the Spotlight’s glare rippling through and across the smoke, you notice something peculiar-

=Def: The smoke is… arcing off course?=

-Upon crossing an invisible threshold, the smoke stack comes under the influence of an invisible force, dragged inexorably along a spiralling path towards the Spotlight’s epicentre -
Whereupon it vanishes from sight, consumed in the blinding folds of the shifting spirographic pattern, like water circling a drain-

=Def: “Well, that’s certainly an interesting development, but not what we were testing for.=
=Sub: “This was stupid. In the time it took for that to unfold we could have just walked to the boundary and broke it down.”=
=Def: “As ever, your contributions are as dull as a hammer. While I’ll admit that this wasn’t the result we had desired, it still provided us with useful data. With that said though… perhaps a little scientific rock-throwing is warranted.”=


>1 AP: Father said the phone lines were inoperable earlier, try out other electronics and see what is working.
-Checking each electronic appliance within the Observatory, you swiftly deduce that most devices are still in working order but are simply deprived of power-

=Def: “With everything going on its not a huge cognitive leap to conclude that whatever is going on knocked out one or two critical pieces of electrical infrastructure.”=

-Anything exclusively connected to the local grid is dead, however anything running off batteries (such as a wall clock or a cell phone) or fed by the building’s private generator(such as the facility’s main server hub) still functions normally-
-You recall that there is a utility service room on the first floor-
-You’ve never had reason to enter there before, but perhaps there’s a way to divert some power into the facility’s non-essential systems-

=ANISE=
>4 AP: Talk to the woman. Discuss "current events", shoot the shit. Eventually reveal I'm considering murder. Trauma dump. Ask for help.

=Social Test=
=18 vs 3d6+(Def/2)+Ap=
=18 vs 13+1+3=
=Failure=

-After a couple false starts, you approach the smoker and introduce yourself. -
-She doesn’t turn and face you, continuing to lean against the corner of the building-
-She voices a curt grunt of acknowledgement, but doesn’t deign to offer her name in exchange-
-An awkward silence hangs in the air for a couple moment, your mind racing to concoct something else to say-
-The girl takes a puff of his cigarette, tapping the heel of her combat boot against the mottled masonry of the apartment complex’s exterior-

=Dep: “Sure, we’re a little rusty at this whole socialization thing but that still seemed a bit rude.”=

-Reinitiating the conversation, you offer some small talk remarking on the bizarre situation-
-The extremely one-sided dialog proceeds along these lines for a while until the girl finally speaks, an minor edge of vexation in her voice-

Smoking girl: “You can’t bum a smoke. This is my last one and I ain’t sharing”

-Holding a cigarette carton over her shoulder, she flips open the lid with a practiced motion-
-The cardboard container is indeed empty, the older girl critically side-eyes you -

Smoking girl: “Besides aren’t you a little young to be indulging in these sorts of things.”

=Sub: “How fucking dare she… We’ll see how well she can suckle that cancerstick through a mouth of broken teet-“=
=Dep: “Hold on now. Let’s not do anything hasty just yet.”
=Def: “Yes, we can still get information out of her, and unconscious bodies are notoriously stingy info-brokers.”=
=Dep: “Right, that too.”=
=Def: “Huh, what do mea-“

-You quickly state that you were going to ask and also aren’t interested in smoking in general, eliciting a palpably unconvinced sound from the girl-
-Internally fumbling over how to proceed you clam up, the pair of you stay quiet for several long minutes-
-Pressure builds in your chest, steadily approaching a breaking point-
-Cheeks faintly flushed with pre-emptive embarrassment, you grit your teeth… then a torrent of words explode forth from your mouth-
-With a level of energy similar to a balloon uncontrollably deflating, you confide your innermost thoughts to the smoker-
-With your eyes very firmly pointed at your feet, you couldn’t appreciate the series of emotional flashes that crossed the girl’s face as your diatribe continued-
-From cynical indifference, to irritated confusion, to bemused concern, to actual concern-
-By the time you reached the point of the presentation where you were expounding upon the gritty minutia of the homicidal fantasies you’ve been experiencing the girl had adopted a thousand yard stare-

(1/3)

>>5549538
=Def: “The sort of expression one might wear if a total stranger walked up to them on the street and began talking about how badly they want to murder someone.”=
=Dep: “Uh, we may have gone a little far in some places.”=
=Def: “Excuse me? What do you mean ‘We’?”=
=Sha: “If this goes on much longer I’ll force us to cringe until we collapse into a singularity, if only to escape this awful self-imposed torture.”

-Distracted as you are you barely register as the girl swiftly spins to face you, pulling herself up to her full height-
-She stares down at you, her expression hard and a little contemptuous-

Smoker girl: “That’s enough. I have no idea what you’re playing at with this lameass posturing, but I strongly suggest you bother someone else befor-”

-The smoker’s voice catches in her throat, her expression faltering as they settle around you-
-The woman’s eye bulging slightly and she takes a reflexive step back, her mouth begins to move as though preparing to call out-

=Sub: “Finally, some due respect. Let’s fuck her up!”=

=Insight Test=
=10 vs 3d6+(Dep/2)=
= 10 vs 10+1=
=Success=

=Def: “Wait, she’s not reacting to us. She’s looking past u-“
=Dep: “Message received.”=

-Time seems to falter as adrenaline floods your system-

(2/3)

>>5549541
=Perception Contest=
=8+(Sha/2) & 10+(Sha/2)+Stealth vs 3d6+(Def/2) =
=8+1 & 10+1+1 vs 9+2 =
= Success, Failure=

-Over the rising rhythm of your heartbeat, and muffled discourse from within the nearby apartment, you pick out one set of light rapid footfalls pattering against the pavement-

=Def: “Something approaching from behind, right-side. Coming fast.”=
=Sha: “Not nearly fast enough.”=

-Your musculature tenses in anticipation, tiny arcs of lightning flicker between anxious nerve endings-

=Agility Contest=
=9+(Sha/2) & 11+((Sha/2)*Surprise) vs 3d6+(Sha/2)=
=9+1 & 11+(1*2)vs 10+4=
=Success, Success=

- Spurning unnecessary movement, you efficiently weave your lithe form around your oncoming assailant at the last possible moment in a truly artful display of grace -
- The small figure barrels through the air past you, seeming having elected to attempt a flying tackle -
- As you observe the tumbling follow-through of the ill-fated maneuver, something causes your blood to run cold -

= Sha: “All is not well. Move.” =

-With a spinal contortion you twist your body into a low stance, spinning on your heel as you kick hard off the cement underfoot-
- You skid backwards a couple meters, skipping off the ground a couple times as your shoes attempt to regain traction only to be rebuffed by inertia -
- Dropping into a guarded stance, take stock of your situation -
- Apparently your attackers were a pair of hideous gremlin-like creatures, they snarl and hiss as they attempt to get their feet back beneath them -
-They are very short humanoids, standing at about knee-height -
-The specifics of forms are vague and their behavior exaggerated to the extreme, like manic figments from a half recalled feverdream -
- Their skin is like tar, depthlessly black but occasionally gleaming with rainbow shimmers when the Spotlight’s radiance hits at the right angle -
- The one closest to you is wildly waving a simple shiv around, stlll attempting to menace despite the lack of all finesse or even an exact idea of where you are -

(3/4)

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>>5549544
=Dep: “Desperate. Undisciplined. Panicking.”=
=Def: “Whatever these things are, they clearly weren’t smart enough to plan this far ahead.”=

-Currently, these antagonistic imps are positioned between you and the Smoking Girl -
-Before you can act, the Smoking girl snaps out of her shock-fueled reverie-
- With a fluid roll of her wrist, she flicks her still lit cigarette into the face of the sneakier of the two gremlins-
-Upon contact the creature screeches in alarm flapping ineffectually at the air long after the discarded cigarette had bounced off its forehead -
-With the creature’s focus disrupted the Smoking girl takes a half step forward then lashes out with her following leg, catching the diminutive monster in the chest with a booted low-kick-
-The gremlin is sent hurtling across the street, the shallow parabola of its arc terminating in the sidewalk with a crunching thud-
- The crumpled form of the antagonist rapidly loses cohesion, something in the shivering corpse’s core momentarily flashes a dull orange-
-Immediately afterwards the remains unceremoniously collapse into a puddle of vile smoking ichor -

=PETE=
>2AP Locate weapon. Preference for long pieces of wood or metal (long for him, anyway). Kitchen knife otherwise.

-Stepping into the dim kitchen you instinctively flick the wall switch, receiving an immediate remember of the blackout-
-There are no windows in the kitchen, or anywhere on the lower floor as a matter-of-fact-
-A uncharacteristically sensible choice on your parents part, but one you appreciate under the current circumstances-
-The obvious downside is that designing the room to be so self-contained the lone source of illumination for the room is the overhead light fixture, which poses a slight issue for you-
-You pass by the fridge causing the sleeves of notes pinned to its face to rustle faintly, they aren’t of interest to you and you couldn’t read them in this light
-As far as you can remember they are chiefly comprised of outlines for the responsibilities for the on-duty housekeeper presented in condescendingly meticulous detail -

=Perception Test=
=DC 6+LowLight & 8+LowLight & 14+LowLight vs 3d6+(Def/2)+Ap=
=6+2 & 8+2 & 14+2 vs 7+2+1=
=Success, Success, Failure=

(1/3)

>>5549548
-You slide open a cutlery drawer and begin rummaging through it, eliciting an outcry of metallic jingling and chinking from the drawer’s contents-
-Eventually you find what you were searching for, briefly admiring the teeth running along the edge of small stainless steel blade before dropping it into your inventory -

=Def: “No real reason not to take at least one. Besides knives are just generally useful tools.”=

(Gain x1 ‘Serrated Steak Knife’)

-As you scrutinize the rest of the kitchen for viable weapons you notice something pinned between the fridge and countertop, almost invisible in the lurking gloom-
-Extracting the broom from its hiding place, you test its weight and balance by experimentally twirling its length through the air-

=Def: As abstractly amusing as the concept of battering back hoards of rioters with the business end of a $5 cleaning instrument is, I have a better idea.=

-Inverting the broom so that the bristles are off the floor, you unscrew the brush attachment then pry it off the broomshaft-
-You daintily perch the detached broomhead on the kitchen counter, lavishing it with a couple encouraging pats before you move on-

(Gain x1‘Wooden Staff’)

>2AP. Search for gloves. Gardening gloves, If none turn up, then a pair of mittens would do in a pinch.

-Next you move onto the next item on your itinerary, locating a pair of gloves-
- ‘a needless waste of time?’ you retort to hypothetical strawman that lives in the cavernously deep recesses of your brainfolds, ‘definitely not’ -
- Who knows when you’ll need to commit a lawfully dubious action in the heat of the moment-
-You’ve seen plenty of cop dramas in your time, you’re not foolish enough to believe you’ll be immune from recourse when civilization reasserts itself after this crisis-
-Which is where the gloves come in, providing the invaluable service of keeping your fingerprints off any potential murder weapons and also providing a little bit of extra grip -
-Now, back to the glove hunt-

=Perception Test=
=DC 9+LowLight & 13+LowLight vs 3d6+(Def/2)+Ap=
=9+2 & 13+2 vs 7+2+1=
=Failure, Failure=

(2/3)

>>5549549
-You’re pretty sure most gloves would have been stored in the atrium garden upstairs, you estimate your chances of finding a set laying around up there is fairly low-
-However there should be some rubber dish gloves stored beneath the kitchen sink, those might be a suitable replacement-
-Upon investigation of the musty darkness under the sink you unfortunately find a handful of cleaning products, a few rolls of bin-liners, and an empty box of gloves, your plans tragically thwarted you slam the cabinet shut-
- As you shuffle out of the kitchen, you brighten with realization and beeline for the storage cupboard at the end of the hall -
-Before you can take more than a couple steps loud noises abruptly reverberate through the quiet halls of the manor-
- A barrage of weak blows striking wood and corrugated metal, undoubtedly inflicted by multiple assailants -

=Def: “Someone’s making a spirited attempt to break in. Judging from the impacts, approximately three or four individuals trying to breach from two points: the front entrance and the garage roller door”=
=Sub: “An intrusion of our territory. A direct challenge.”=

- Hurrying your pace without outright running, you turn the corner then stop dead in your tracks -

=Def: “Correction, three points.”=
=Dep: “THE LOOTERS ARE ALREADY IN THE HOUSE AND… they’re midgets?”

(3/4)

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>>5549553
-The caustically bright glare of the Spotlight filters down the stairs, exposing a squat humanoid brandishing an improvised shield skittering towards you-
-You can’t make out many details under this level of light, you’re basically working with backlit silhouettes here-
- The creature skids to a stop at the intersection between the hall you are currently in and the one leading to the front door and braces its shield, jabbering in a language you don’t understand -
- Apprehensively lingering just beyond the edge of the light spilling down the stairs, the creature peers into the deeper recesses intently -

=Dep: “It hasn’t pinned down our location, but it does seem to know that someone is here.”=
=Sha: Why’s it just standing there?=
=Sub: “Feh, probably just too cowardly to face the unknown.” =

-Behind the shieldbearer a second small-statured figure clambers down the stairs before turning at the intersection and vanishing down the entranceway hall -
- A moment passes, then you hear it -
- Below the frenzied din of the intruders outside, a frantic metallic rattling -

=Def: Wait. It’s fiddling with the doorknob, trying to disengage the locks and security latches. =
=Dep: “It wants to let the others inside...”=
=Sub: “So, this indecisive lollygagger was a diversion. It changes little. Charge forth and tear paint the walls with their blood! If you’re quick enough you can stop the others from prematurely getting in.”
=Def: “Simultaneously fighting multiple enemies on our own is an inadvisable prospect, even if we get them in a choke point. It only takes one mistake for us to get swarmed.
=Sha: We’re trapped in a dead end, I recommend shoving past the guard and getting outside. Visibility and mobility options are far superior up there.”=

>>5546919
>>5546245
>>5546049
>>5546014
> # First Act, Fourth Turn: Commence #
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sWu4SGUZCbc

Rolled 2, 5, 4, 3, 5, 6, 5, 6, 4, 2, 3, 6 = 51 (12d6)

>>5549556
The broom turned staff was a boon, and does help lessen the sting of the search for gloves turning up nothing greatly. Truth be told, Pete was less worried about the legal consequences in an eventual aftermath and more about cutting up his hands every time he took a swing with his weapon, since he had expected to only turn up a splinter-filled piece of wood or a tetanus-ridden piece of metal from the remains of the top half of the manor. The broom, at least for the time being, makes this a non-issue. Pete would still like to procure gloves to keep his hands safe from harm, bet it rubble he has to navigate through or bites from a dog. Pete...doesn't like dogs very much. At all, in fact.
Still, the search for gloves and other protection against threats both canine and otherwise must wait.
Intruder Alert!
Looters? They were quick, but some people are like that, and Serenade does attract such types. Or perhaps staff, who would know of the almost empty house and are hoping for a smash and grab, or perhaps so good old kidnapping. Pete sees his worst fears about the situation coming true...and then sees the opposition.
Frankly, he has to stop himself from laughing in both amusement and relief.
These...tar goblin-looking things aren't the most intimidating, especially the shield one. Even better, they are obviously...other. Linked to that thing in the sky. Chances are, the obelisk calls to them. To Pete, that is a good thing. Perhaps Aspirants, as the messages called him, and presumably others, must not seek out and kill each other, but only these things? Is it a competition to see which group of Aspirants dispatches the most? Pete belongs to the Prince of Hearts group, would these things have hearts as well? Is the obelisk both a beacon and a sacrificial stone? Could he get power that way?
A hopeful interpretation, but it tracks well enough.
Unfortunately, Pete's theory-crafting has to be cut short. Whatever the why of the situation, these things are in his home, and about to invite more friends in. His mind switches into fight or flight mode. Pete freezes, but only for a moment, his brain working overdrive. The house is defensible, provided no more entry-points are made. Taking a fight against several of these things would be foolish, but right now there's only two. The math is easy. The shield one should be a literal pushover, and is not the real danger. No real weapon, and skittish too! Pete must get to and hold that door closed. Whacking the goblin trying to get it open would be best, but giving it something else to think about will accomplish the same goal.

>2AP: Charge towards 3-1-1-2(aka Scared Shield Goblin) and push/shoulder-check it out of the way.
>2AP: Charge down the hall towards 3-1-1-7 (aka Doorman Goblin) and whack it with the broom. Priority is getting it away from the door. Permission to scream like a maniac to distract it if it looks like it's about to get it open: granted!

Rolled 2, 4, 6 = 12 (3d6)

>>5549525
>3 AP: Sneak away from the imps
>1 AP: Look for a building that might have something that can open the toolbox, a locksmith or maybe a garage.

Rolled 5, 1, 4, 5, 5, 3 = 23 (6d6)

>>5549557
>1 AP: Take another look outside at that burning building. I wonder why the fire department hasn't arrived yet?
>3 AP: Head downstairs and try to get the power working for the observatory.

>>5549538
Um...shouldn't I have succeeded on that social test roll? For my AP you put me as having +3 instead of +4 for me using all my AP. I should've met the DC, I think. Great write up either way, I laughed. I'll get around to writing my post soon...ish. I'm just dead tired and a bit sick.

Rolled 2, 3, 2 = 7 (3d6)

>>5549557
I dodged these pitiful creatures with contemptuous ease, they should know better than to sneak attack a sneak-attacker! I practically invented that, it was one of the only things I am good at! Flicking off the retention strap, I awkwardly pulled out my newly acquired knife from my old, now imperfectly sized sheath and observed my assailants.

Looking at them made my mind rebel and lose focus, as if looking into a endlessly deep pond of murky water. You could tell there was more more beneath the surface but looking too long would make you lose yourself in them, if anything the Spotlight shining over them helped alleviate that for me.

I started forwar-

PMPH!

-And one's dead already...

...So cool.

Wait, these were obviously here for me. If anything I was being robbed from my rightful participation in the Trial I was being put through. The thought made a hysterical, irrational, confused anger course through me.

"Y-y-y-y-you," I stammered out, my words made incoherent by the complex feelings strangling them, I struggled to croak out the last bit, "I-I'll kill you!" It wasn't clear even to me who I actually meant.

I rushed forward at the remaining imp, not wanting all my thunder to be stolen. As the distance closed, I lunged. Thrusting my left hand out as a distraction to blind his vision and occupy my opponents attention, I simultaneously pulled back my knife to impale the little invader.

>4 AP: Lunge at the remaining imp. Lead with my left hand, distract, blind, tie up his hands. Stab the imp.

I can't work out a good post. I keep ruining it by unironically face rolling my keyboard by accident as I fall asleep. This will have to do. The middle bit was originally more comedic, but I thought it wasn't appropriate coming off the prior story post with "Anise" being pretty serious in a life or death situation.

=Pete=
>2AP: Charge towards 3-1-1-2(aka Scared Shield Goblin) and push/shoulder-check it out of the way.
-Pouncing forth from the gloom you barrel into the puny goblin’s shield, placing your full weight behind the tackle-
-Your target freezes up, shrinking behind the mutilated bookbinding it has repurposed as a shield-

=Strength Contest=
=3d6+(Sub/2) vs 3d6+(Sub/2)+Ap+ChargeBuildUp=
=8+1 vs 11+2+1+0=
=Success=

=Damage Calculation=
=Sub vs 1d1+(Sub/2)-ShieldQuality=
=2 vs 1+2-1=
=Adversary 3-1-1-2 has been slain=

-The force of your shoulder check flings the unfortunate creature towards the stairs, ultimately pinwheeling painfully against a corner -

=Sha: “Time is of the essence. Keep moving.”=

-You don’t pause to admire your handiwork, redirecting your momentum you drift into the corridor leading to the manor’s main entrance.-

(Gain +1 AUTHORITY)

>2AP: Charge down the hall towards 3-1-1-7 (aka Doorman Goblin) and whack it with the broom. Priority is getting it away from the door. Permission to scream like a maniac to distract it if it looks like it's about to get it open: granted!
-As your thundering pace closes in, the miniature intruder redoubles its efforts to disarm the impressively diverse array of locking mechanisms securing the front door-
-Two left-
-One left-
-Fumble-
-Fumble-
-The imp isn’t tall enough to reach the final lock unassisted -
-Frustration gives way to mindless desperation, the goblinoid creature starts violently batting at the locking mechanism a the brick-thick tome-
-One of the clumsy bludgeons trigger the house alarm, startling the intruder as a continuous ear-piercing drone floods its senses-
-Beneath the multilayered clamor of the besieging strangers and the building’s vocal rebuke, the whistle of wood slicing through the air goes almost entirely unnoticed-
-The battle cry that bellow forth from your throat on the other hand, most certainly did get noticed-

=Agility Contest=
=3d6+(Sha/2) vs 3d6+(Sha/2)+Ap=
=10+1vs 15+2+1=
=Success=

=Damage Calculation=
=Sub vs 1d2+(Sub/2)=
=2 vs 1+2=
=Adversary 3-1-1-7 has been slain=

-The creature fiddling with the door attempts to wheel away, only to find its back against a wall-
-You strike true, a ferocious swing connecting with the impish intruder’s misshapen skull with a meaty twack-
-The intruder’s surprisingly light frame is swept along by the blow, resulting in a second impact as the small figure rebounds off the door next to it -
-The twitching figure slides down of heavy mahogany of the door, its unmoving form growing difficult to discern in the dim conditions as it sinks to the floor-
- As you hurriedly step forward to reengage the locks your foot lands on the intruder’s body, which crumbles apart like wet paper-mache on contact -

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>>5556748
- You detect a shuddering fizzle at your feet which you mistake for a wheezing breath, instinctively you shuffle back and rise your guard-
- There’s a blink of pale moon-kissed light where the intruder fell, briefly illuminating a crumpled, severely decomposed form -
- A singular fleck of ghost light, similar to the ones currently lazily orbiting your head, bursts forth from the vanquished invader -
- In a burst of motion which your yes cannot follow It flits to eye level, then incorporates itself into the regal band of light hovering above your brow -

(Gain +1 AUTHORITY]

- You spend a moment reflecting on what this might signify, but are swiftly brought back to reality by the realization of something concerning-
- The racket outside has subsided, whatever’s out there no longer seems to be trying to force their way inside -

=Def: “I’m not certain of when they stopped precisely. We were a little preoccupied at the time. However, I’m pretty certain they’re still out there.”=
=Sub: “This was a pretty crummy break-in attempt. As far as I can tell, they barely even left a dent in the door.=
=Def: “Technically, the break-in was successful. But, yes the structural integrity of this entrance seems undaunted by their assault.=”
=Dep: “Hm. Perhaps the alarm scared them off?”

-Staining your ears against the blaring security alarm you struggle to discern anything, only catching a snippet of a hushed sniggering conversation-
- As you lean forward intending to try pressing an ear up against the door, a flash of dazzlingly bright light bursts through the cracks of the doorframe -
-An accompanying wave of stomach-turning pressure pulses down the hall, you easily shake off the disorientating effect and reaffix your focus on the door before you-
-Several tense moments crawl by, you can hear nothing except the cycling screech of the intrusion alarm and your own panting breaths-
-The alarm’s interface console frantically flashes promises of a police response that will probably never arrive in a deep red, you suppose the alarm has some self-contained power supply-
-At least whatever deific shenanigans are transpiring hasn’t fried all electronics, you file that nugget of information away for later.
-Your eyes flick to the door, only a single lock remains in position-
-You could reset the disengaged locks, while the door itself might be too sturdy for the intruders to bust through the single remaining lock currently holding that door shut is only affixed to the doorframe by screws -

=Def: “Please deactivate the alarm. It’s making it quite hard to concentrate.”=
=Dep: It is quite loud. While it did seem to drive off the home invaders, it could just as easily draw other to us. =
=Def: Wait, hang on. We need to establish how those two infiltrators got inside.=
=Mot: They came down the stairs. The entire second floor has basically been sheared away. They likely vaulted over from the roof of an adjacent building.=

=ANISE=
>1 AP Lunge at the remaining imp. Move W1.
>3 AP: Lead with my left hand, distract, blind, tie up his hands. Stab the imp.
-Diving into the imp’s blind spot, you shift your centre of mass then zero in on the stubby rag-wrapped blade clutched in its left hand-

=Agility Contest=
=3d6+(Sha/2) vs 3d6+(Sha/2)+CQC+Ap=
=9+1 vs 7+4+1+2=
=Success=

=Damage Calculation=
=Sub vs 1d4+(Sub/2)=
=2 vs 4+1=
=Adversary 1-1-1-3 has been slain=

-In a serpentine motion your free hand lashes out seizing hold of the imp’s leading arm, wrapping your body around the creature as leverage you deliver a cruel twist dislocating the limb at the elbow
- Emitting a high-pitched noise that might have been a yelp, the rudimentary shiv drops from the goblinoid horror’s gnarled hand -
-The gremlin petulantly writhes under the constraint of your body hold, struggling to obtain enough leverage to turn towards you-
-Glimpsing you from the corner of its vision its beady coal-black eyes widen, witnessing your carving knife reflecting the caustic glare of the Spotlight as you plunge it downwards into the monster’s exposed neck-
-You drive the blade into imp repeatedly, until at last your adversary stops gurgling and goes slack.-
- Rivulets of foul ichor stains your arms, it stinks of century-old mothballs and putrefying meat -
-You feel the monster grow increasingly insubstantial, its flesh shedding curling wisps of acrid black smoke which stings your nose-

(Gain +1 AUTHORITY)

(1/2)

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>>5556766
-Drifting out from the sizzling cadaver beneath you with a fey grace, a delicate thread of light sways and waves under a non-existent breeze-
-At once and without a whisper of warning, the starspun gossamer accelerates towards your head at an appreciable fraction of light-
-Your instincts command you to duck, but given the punishingly tight timeframe you are working under your nervous system fails to react in time -
-Fortunately the mysterious object doesn’t seem to have penetrated through your skull like the railgun-propelled fletchette which it briefly resembled, at least you don’t believe it has and unless provided some pretty compelling evidence to the contrary you are perfectly content in that belief -
-Running a hand across your forehead, you abruptly jolt as a foreign sensation shoots down your arm-
-Not pain, rather it feels like the cross between a dialtone and that uncomfortable ache when you bump your elbow on something -
-Further investigation of strange phenomena is interrupted by a choked shout from nearby-
-Another spindly imp-thing has joined the fray, having leapt upon the Smoking girl while you were preoccupied -
-The creature is now tightly grappling her head and screeching horribly as it tries its level best to pummel her into submission, whilst your newest acquaintance is producing a string of truly sulphurous curses and savagely rending away chunks of the wretch’s back with her fingernails -
-The pair flail around in war of attrition and mutual animosity, neither managing to inflict substantial harm upon the other in spite of their best efforts-
- A familiar face pokes out into the street, mouth hanging agape as he stares at the inexplicable brawl unfolding before him-

=Sub: “Oh, that guy's back… Huh, with that facial expression he honestly looks like a muppet made of meat.”=
=Mot: Let’s not judge him based on something as vapid as appearance. Instead, why not judge him based on the fact that he’s just standing there instead of intervening.”=
=Dep: “To be fair, we’re closer and also haven’t moved to help… uh, her.”=
=Mot: “Exactly. Why don’t we *do* something to amend that then?”=
=Dep: “We really should have asked her what her name was. Mentally cataloguing her as ‘Smoking Girl’ seems inappropriate.”=
=Def: “If you’ll remember, we actually did ask. She blew off our attempts at niceties. You explicitly remarked about how rude it was.”=
=Mot: “Stop. Stop thinking. Act. Do.”=

- Other silhouetted forms approach the frosted glass of the apartment lobby’s exterior windows, evidently drawn by the spectacle of vitriol and profanity taking place outside -
-Simultaneous to this, you see an intense flare of light briefly emanate from the base of a monolith skewering through a rooftop to the south-
- Milliseconds after this event you sense two gusts wash over you, one comes from the monolith in your line of sight but the second stronger gust rushes in from the North -

=ASTER=
>1 AP: Take another look outside at that burning building. I wonder why the fire department hasn't arrived yet?
-Driven by a sense of morbid curiosity, you peek through the eastern bay window-

=Perception Test=
=7& 13 & 25 vs 3d6+(Def/2)=
=7 & 13 & 25 vs 10+2=
=Success, Failure, Failure=

- As you expected the fire has begun to spread to the adjoining structures, the crowd hanging by the fringes has grown too -
-From your distant viewpoint you can see restlessness spreading through the bystanders, several members seem to be especially irate or despondent -
- Sweeping gusts of searing wind rush in and out of the immolating buildings like the hyperventilating wheezes of a tantruming child -

=Dep: “Except the child in question is architectonically huge and also engulfed in fire.”=

- At this point the blaze is threatening to hop to other blocks, even the observatory might not be safe -

=Def: “It’s been about ten minutes. We may need to confront the possibility that emergency services simply aren’t functional state.”=
=Mot: “We cannot wait for others to save us. We must take action.”=
=Def: “Indeed. While fighting that fire is somewhat outside of our skillset, we should definitely start thinking about our next move. Perhaps hunker down in a safe place to wait this whole mess out? Alternatively, we could strike out into the unknown and try to find answers?”=

>3 AP: Head downstairs and try to get the power working for the observatory.
-Descending the stairs you reach the second floor main corridor, to your left is a glass wall which runs the length of the building behind which are a set of computer laboratories-
-Midway down the corridor is an intersection that leads to the stairwell to the first floor and the site-director’s office-
-You recall seeing some graduates still toiling away in the labs when you arrived, but they aren’t here now-
- Light pours into the corridor from a window behind you, the half-drawn blinds casting streaky patterns across the walls and floor-
-You proceed with the uneventful trip to the first floor, whereupon you finally encounter your first sign of life that isn’t viewed through a window-

(1/2)

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>>5556770
-Lounging back in his chair and snoring lightly is the security guard, he is currently sitting at his station in the foyer-
-The collage-aged boy is very obviously sleeping, but seems to have donned a pair of sunglasses in an attempt to obfuscate that fact-

=Mot: “Did he really sleep through all the explosions, quakes, and psychic screaming? Or did he go to sleep after experiencing all of that?”=
=Def: “Both scenarios are equally baffling.”
=Sub: “Must be one hell of a heavy sleeper, or either that or he’s extraordinarily tired.”=

-Leaning over to see behind the guard station you notice that the computer used to monitor the building’s various security feeds is deactivated, likely deprived of electricity-
-There’s also a half-eaten box of dusted donuts tucked away in an open drawer, you are tempted but refrain from taking one-
- There are two doors leading out from the lobby, one leads to the staff carpark and the other leads out to the street -
-The door leading outside is currently unlocked, Sebastian probably left that way and must be nearby if he didn’t lock it behind him-
-The maintenance area can be accessed through the north-west corner of the carpark, you leave the slumbering guard to his dreams and enter the carpark-
-Natural light cannot enter this enclosed space and with the overhead lights dead the empty space is crammed with an oppressive darkness, you are forced to trace a path along the concrete wall-
-Soon your fingers brush against the wire fence separating the maintenance room from the wider parking area, groping your way along the barrier you eventually find a gate-
-A padlocked gate, drat-
-If anyone knows where the key is then the safest bet would be the security guard, you might need to awaken him after all-

=PS=
Rolled 2, 4, 6 = 12 (3d6)
>3 AP: Sneak away from the imps

-Spotlight beating down upon your back, you keep your head down and wait for an opening -
-You heard the crunch of displaced glass as new imps scampered to bask beneath the towering grandeur of the Monolith -
-Gradually the jabbering squawking of the congregated mass petered out, replaced with an almost reverential silence-
-Risking a peek, you observe several of the hunch-back wretches pair off as the others prostrated themselves before the barren monument-
-A low throaty hum suffuses the atmosphere sending a shiver through you, the spotlight flicking reformations subtly accelerate-
-Abruptly the paired off imps begin brutally tearing each other apart, through the nature of their savagery strikes you as peculiar, very unlike the bestially rowdy impression your brief encounter with them had left on you -
-Serenely glass-eyed despite the carnival of violence rapidly engulfing them, the imps quite devolve into a intertwining mass of rending limbs and disfigurement -
- A dense wave of heat pours off the spectacle and the space around and within the amalgamate cacoons ruptured with coronal flares, within these bloated undulating vessels an abominable metamorphosis was underway
-Having had your fill of lunacy, you take this opportunity to escape -

=Stealth Contest=
=8x (3d6+(Def/2)) vs 3d6+(Sha/2)+Ap=
=6+1, 8+1, 9+1, 11+1, 11+1, 11+1, 11+1, 14+1 vs 12+2+2=
=Success=

-As deft as a feline, you cut a curving path to the window, trading a couple seconds of travel to bypass several bulbous piles of ash concealing who knows what-
- The window ledge is about two meters off the ground, the window was some sort of long awning window -
- Fortunately the glass and a good portion of the frame has been blow apart, reducing the necessity for contortionist acrobatics
- Poising yourself, you take a breath and prepare to make the jump-

=Strength Test=
=14 vs 3d6+(Sub/2)=
=14 vs 13+2=
=Success=

-With a heave, you haul your torso up and over the windowsill in a smooth motion then tilt over the edge-
-The gravity-assisted descent to the street was less calculated, but you still managed to hit the pavement in a roll-
-Your ears prickle, hunting the bleak urban soundscape for a sign that you had been spotted -
- A telltale cry of alarm or a rumble of pursuing steps or the covert shuffling of a shrewder pursuer, but nothing suspicious rose to your attention -

=Sha: “Flawless. Clean break.”=
=Sub: “Seems like a wasted opportunity. All those unbroken skulls in there.”=
=Def: “Speaking of which are we going to acknowledge any of that? Those things practically peeled each other apart and fashioned a sleeping bag out of the collected skin! What did any of that mean?”=
=Sha: “Process that later, we shouldn’t linger.”=

(1/2)

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-The street you’ve stepped out onto is empty, the harsh lighting of the Spotlight paints the well-illuminated streets in stark contrast with the surrounding buildings and their shadow clogged interiors -
- Numerous cars clogs the streets, some have been left abandoned haphazardly creating obstructions across various lanes however most have been parked and locked in a more civil manner -
- Across the street you observe a series of municipally issued garbage cans which have been overturned by some rascal or varmint, there is also the standalone postbox stationed at the street corner -
-It looks a little worse for wear, extensive denting and scratched graffiti tarnish its once unspoiled exterior-

=Dep: “What manner of villain would perpetrate such a heinous crime? What is there to gain? It’s inconceivable!”=
=Def: “Probably those tar-skinned gremlins, or maybe a small-time gang out for some fun? Does this really matter?”=
=Dep: “IT ABSOLUTELY MATTERS! This humble postbox lent a steadying shoulder when we were at our lowest, supporting us when we could barely stand! We’re obligated to avenge this slight!=
=Def: “What? No. No, we really don-”=
=Sub: “An excellent suggestion! Tonight we shall sup upon the sweet nectar of vigilante justice and administer righteous trauma with our massive, powerful fists!”=

-Peeking around the corner, you witness yet another glob of celestial sludge plummet from the twisted heavens above
- Moments after impacting the roadside the mass begins bubbling and spasming, the goop congealing into a familiar impish outline -


>1 AP: Look for a building that might have something that can open the toolbox, a locksmith or maybe a garage.
- Slinking back behind the corner, you scan the buildings opposite to you for a mechanic or a factory or even a hardware store -

=Perception Test=
=10 vs 3d6+(Def/2)+Investigation=
=10 vs 6+2+2=
=Success=

-None of the buildings in your immediate surroundings hold much promise, a carelessly zoned mish-mash of office buildings and apartment complexes -
-Unlikely to find anything for sundering apart a cast-iron toolbox in there-
-However you are aware that there are several stores occupying the less developed plots of the block you currently are on -
- They’re mostly just brand stores of varying renown and descriptions, nothing locally or privately owned of course -
- All structured in accordance with the inoffensive, interchangeable veneer of modern marketing philosophy, glass and plastic draped with ostentatious designs focus-tested for mass appeal-
- You’ve never really paid much attention to what wares they deal in, in truth you don’t often have occasion to travel so close to the factory piers of Serenade -

=Sub: “What we do know is that there is a decent bar several blocks to the north.”=
=Def: “Hm. I vaguely recall that there was a mall just across the street from that particular watering hole.”=

File: T1.jpg (189 KB, 768x768)

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=First Trumpet=
-Miles above the city of Serenade semi-obscured by an expanding shroud of smoke, the mesmeric dance of the Spotlight comes to an abrupt halt-
-Along the cursive linework of the spirographic shape which the Spotlight had settled upon tiny sanguine beads seep and drip from the ether, only to be greedily imbibed by the creased star-smeared Curtains-
-Spreading readily across the provided medium like a drop of ink on wet cloth, the dripfeed of pigmentation asserted itself in eruptions of branching crimson veins across the Curtains leaving the smudged depictions of cosmic enormity slightly red-shifted-
- As this occurs, the inert starscape scenery begins to erratically shudder across the Curtain’s face, travelling at a glacial pace with an flickering inconsistency that suggests a video bereft of half of its frames-
-The indistinct stars transforms into something akin to atmosphere-burnt meteorites, all loosely revolving around at single point: the Spotlight, a unhinged carousel of stolen starlight -
- Heralded by the tortured sound of a titanic clockwork thundercrack, the Spotlight resumes its endless spasm of arcane reconfigurations with redoubled haste -
-Amidst the radiance pouring upon Serenade miniscule hypotrapoids drift towards the city below, they are structurally static and wherever their shimmering forms pass the light shed from the Spotlight is briefly stained slaughterhouse red-
-Upon touching the ground the morbid snowflakes shatter disgorging a fizzle of energy which blossom into dragging fields of roiling temporal blisters, a small, short-lived bank of distorted space that exists grossly -and lethally - out of pace with the rest of reality-

File: 1stTrumpet.png (255 KB, 6031x6031)

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> # First Act, Fifth Scene: Commence #
(Apologies for the delay. It has been an uncommonly busy workweek.)

>>5556766
I thought we didn't have to use AP to move unless we were spending an AP to dash an extra space. Don't we get our {Sha} spaces as free movement each turn? Also, what counts as a space? Each one of those squares on the map? Glad to see this isn't dead though.

>>5556799
(Your understanding is correct. This was a processing error. The silver lining is that the misplaced Ap didn't alter the outcome.)

Rolled 4, 6, 3, 6, 3, 2 = 24 (6d6)

>>5556782
>1 AP: Awaken the guard and ask him for the key to unlock the maintenance area, or to unlock it himself.
>3 AP: Enter the maintenance area and get the power working for the observatory.

btw, what is this "Mot" voice that appeared with my other "Stat" voices?

>>5556782
Pete should be questionning what that flash of light was, but he's too busy at the moment. That felt...right. The invaders felled by his hands, his domain protected. The sensation of wood puncturing a weak skull...ahem, time to focus. This means both good and maybe bad news. The floating lights are the same as the ones he got from the obelisk, but just one for killing one of those things. A point system? Good at first glance, but it does mean he could be targeted for his point. Would they draw others to him? How about more of these things? Should he keep to his plan of moving? No, not right now. His preparations aren't ready, and the house is likely still surrounded.
That noise could mask his movement, but would also mask theirs. Too risky, and distracting besides. And push comes to shove, maybe he could just turn it back on later? Pete would like to got check on the other intruder, but he's fairly confident that it hit the ground hard enough to be wounded given how fragile the other one was. He'll just peek on the way, and if another light moves in next to his head, he can consider that particular problem dealt with. Very nifty, that.

>2AP Re-lock the door and take the opportunity to look through the peephole for whatever just happened.
>2AP Find the security system and figure out the off-switch.

Rolled 1, 2, 2, 3, 1, 6 = 15 (6d6)

>>5556782
>3 AP: Kill the imp attacking 'Smoking Girl'. Grab it and stab it to death.
>1 AP: Help 'Smoking Girl' up, usher her into the building to the north, away from onlookers, to talk. Ask her name.

Sorry for being late and not adding a write up. Had things to do and forgot about this for a couple days.

Rolled 2, 1, 6 = 9 (3d6)

>>5557897

Rolled 1, 4, 2, 1, 6, 2 = 16 (6d6)

>>5556782
>3 AP: Search the bar
>1 AP: Search the mall

=ANISE=
>3 AP: Kill the imp attacking 'Smoking Girl'. Grab it and stab it to death.
-Streaking forward, you dip beneath the arc of one of the smoker’s thrashing arms-
-Positioning yourself behind the Imp, you clench your grasp around its throat and wrench it back-
-Instinctively tightening its grip upon the smoker’s medium hair the creature struggles against your attempts to line up a clean strike-
-The smoker vocalizes a muffled scream, handfuls of hair pulled painfully taut as you swipe at the panicking gremlin with your knife-

=Agility Contest=
=3d6+(Sha/2) vs 3d6+(Sha/2)+CQC+Ap=
=13+1 vs 5+4+1+2=
=Failure=

-The imp precariously jostles in your grip, a lock of hair separates bloodily from scalp, then jerks itself free -
- Your knife missies the imp as it scrambles back onto smoker, the singing steel coming bare millimeters from biting into the disorientated woman’s shoulder-
-Prompted by a newcomer joining the fray the imp changes its tactics -
-Deftly the creature assumes a spider-like gait, scrambling back and forth across the smoker’s head and upper body, constantly repositioning and risking quick jabs whenever it feels sufficiently safe-
-With a choked shot the Nerd surges forward to intervene-
- Withdrawing a graphic novel from his shoulderbag the man hurls it towards the imp-
-The book covers half the distance before the pages flutter open increasing aerodynamic drag to unsustainable levels causing the book’s arc to slump anticlimactically -
-The scuffle pauses as all parties present watch the vibrantly coloured comic limply tumble to the asphalt-
-Taking the opportunity the smoking girl seizes a firm hold of the imps dangling legs causing the creature of produce a gagging yowl and scramble to reinforce its grip-
-With an aggravation-laden snarl crawling up her throat, the smoker pulls with every ounce of strength and burgeoning murderous intent in her slender frame-
-Slick knobbly fingers clawing for purchase, the Imp desperately fights a losing battle to maintain its perch-
Clothes are ripped and flesh is bruised but eventually through sheer bloody-minded determination the clinging wretch is yanked loose-
-For a brief instant the imp’s world is without gravity as its flung above the Smoker’s head, then it feels an anchoring resistance, a pair of golden brown hands manacling its ankles with white-knuckled pressure-

(1/3)

>>5564366
-Abruptly the forces acting upon the imp under a drastic reversal, as the Arabic woman viciously whips the wiry creature’s upper body back towards the hard earth-
-The cataclysmic force of the impact ruptures the creature’s carapace-like at several points, spraying a splatter of oily, black ichor across the smoker’s face -
-The destroyed form of the imp, leaking and partially split open, begins slowly evaporating in gouts black smog-
-Within the creature’s exposed midsection, you briefly see another strand of light materialize before flashing orange and vanishing in a flicker of pixelization-
-Groggily wiping at her face, the smoker topples back a step, aching panting and utterly exhausted-

>1 AP: Help 'Smoking Girl' up, usher her into the building to the north, away from onlookers, to talk. Ask her name.
-Closing the distance with a light jog, you lend the collapsing girl a shoulder to lean on-
-Hefting her properly to her feet, the pair of you swiftly hobble across the street and after a few false starts you locate an unlocked entrance -
-As you duck inside, narrowly evading scrutiny from the cluster of curious rubberneckers gathering at the apartment entrance, the dorky guy throws an anxious backwards glance at the apartment, then snatches up his comic book and lumbers after the pair of you before anyone can tell him otherwise.
- Only after setting the smoker down on the glossy plastic textile of a booth do you have the presence of mind to notice that you’ve entered some kind of sandwich shop or deli -
- The store is deserted, but evidently it hasn’t been that way for very long -
- Partially eaten food lay abandoned on serval tables, your nostrils bristle as they are assaulted by the fragrant odor of fresh breads -
- You can hear the chattering chime of a phone ringing from deeper within the store, emanating from somewhere in the employees-only area-

-Turning your attention back to the Arabic woman, who has taken the liberty of wedging herself into the corner of the booth while you were distracted, you take a moment to consider what would be appropriate to say in this situation-

=Social test=
=DC 1 & 9 vs 3d6+(Dep/2)=
=1 & 9 vs 10+1=
=Success, Success=

-As delicately as you are able, you ask the girl whether she is seriously injured-
Smoking Girl: “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Worst thing the little bastard did was pull some hair out.”
-The girl gingerly explores her scalp with lightly probing fingers, flinching back slightly upon brushing against a tender spot-
Smoking Girl: “Fuck…”
-Tactfully, you ask whether she needs something, phrasing the question in such a way that prompts her to offer her name -
Smoking Girl: “An icepack thanks, or just anything cold if you can’t find one…”
-After a moment of hesitation, during which you had begun to turn away, she continues-
Smoking Girl: “… and the name’s Yasmine.”
???: “And I’m S-stanford!”

(2/3)

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>>5564369

=Dep: “Okay, but nobody asked…”=
=Def: “ … Wait, whatthefuck?!”=

- Jolting in your skin, you sharply pivot towards the entrance, bringing you almost noise-to-noise with unfortunate visage of the nerdy guy, an experience which causes you to startle for a second time in as many seconds -
-His skin is thoroughly pocked with blackheads and other blemishes, sweat beads densely at his temples and runs in thin rivulets down to his poorly trimmed facial hair-

=Sub: “Territorial bubble violated! Back up, back up!”
=Def: “I am deeply ashamed. How did this chubby marshmallow homunculi managed to sneak up on us? We must be losing our edge.”=
=Sha: “No, *you* must be losing your edge. Don’t drag the rest us of down wi-”=
=Sub: “BACK UP NOW OR I’M DECKING THIS MAN IN THE JAW!”=

-You take an involuntary step backwards, if Stanford notices he doesn’t react-
Yasmine: “What. Anise, who is that?”
Stanford: “Uh… I’m-m St-ta-“
Yasmine: “Yeah, I got that. I mean, what are you doing here?”

-The man visibly gulps-

Stanford: “Um well, I saw th-that animal u-uh that thing att-ac-attack you and tried to help buc-bu-but coul-ddn’t really do- uh-um, so I thought t-that I’d follow and s-see if you g-g-guys nee-eded-e-”
Yasmine: “Okay stop, I’ve just realized that I don’t actually care.”
Stanford: “S-so, you’ll let me stay?”
Yasmine: “Again, I don’t care. It’s a free country.”

-With enduring caution, Yasmine lays her head on the cheap crumb-speckled tablecloth laid out before her-
-Unsure what to do with himself, Stanford shuffles over to a set of tables a respectable distance away and proceeds to radiate awkwardness-

(Gain Association, Yasmine: 0)
(Gain Association, Stanford: 0)

-With a quiet sigh, you glance around the dining space estimating where the freezer for such an establishment might be located, assuming one exists at all-
-As your gaze idly sweeps over a section of the ceiling in the far left corner of the room, you zero in on a peculiarity-
-A small square of the pre-fab plaster ceiling just moved, rapidly rotating in place like a segment of a puzzlebox impossibly shuffling itself into a novel new state of being-
-You note that sections the ceiling are patently incongruous with the rest of the store’s décor, blotted chunks of gormlessly disparate materials and segments of geometry that jut from or sink into the roof without rhyme or reason-
This chaotic aesthetic seems to be propagating randomly across the ceiling, silently asserting itself across the kitschy modern architecture like some kind of gruesome necrotic virus-

=Def: "Oh, what fun. More panic-attacks waiting to happen. Good thing too, my heart-rate almost dipped below 180 bpm for a second there." =

=ASTER=
>1 AP: Awaken the guard and ask him for the key to unlock the maintenance area, or to unlock it himself.
-Retracing your steps, you waltz back into the lobby and stand before the security desk-
-You clear your throat-
-The desk’s sleeping occupant stirs slightly, a snore hitching momentarily before resuming-
-In a gentle voice, you call to the guard in an attempt to rouse him from slumber-
-After several, incrementally louder attempts, the man blearily opens his eyes and stifles a yawn -
-Upon registering someone standing in front of him the guard snaps to complete wakefulness, his wheelie-chair squeaking an objection as his spine goes rigid and he struggles to choose a natural position for his arms -

Security Guard: “Ah-ahem, Good evening miss. How may I be of assistance?

=Social test=
=DC 6 vs 3d6+(Dep/2)=
=6 vs 13+4=
=Success=

-Politely ignoring his lapse in composure, you inquire whether he could lend you the key to the padlock sealing the maintenance room-
-With an uncertain sound, the man rebukes you with a shake of his head-

Security Guard: “I’m sorry miss, but I am afraid I cannot allow that. The maintenance area is strictly restricted to qualified personnel for safety reasons. If your experiment requires surplus power then you’ll need to get it cleared with the site director.”

-You patiently inform the gentleman that the city seems to be suffering a widescale black-out, which means that until the auxiliary battery arrays are toggled the laboratories will have no power what-so-ever -
- The man visibly pauses when you mention this, cogs turning in his head as he notices the dead light fixtures and surveillance console -

Security Guard: “Ah, I see. When that’s a different matter.”

- Rising to his feet, the man rummages through his jacket pockets for a few moments before withdrawing a ring of keys -
- You reach out to accept them, receiving a critical arch of an eyebrow from the mildly disheveled man in response -

Security Guard: “Uhh-hah, no. No, you definitely cannot have my keys. The Director would have my ass if I misplaced a second set… Uh, apologies, nevermind that. Anyway, please wait here while I go hook up the backup power.”

-The slightly overweight guard swaggers off towards the carpark with all the mall-cop-ly authority his position affords him, you get the impression that you don’t have much of a say in this-

=Dep: “Guess he’s trying to compensate for his irresponsible conduct with decisive professionalism.”=
=Sha: “Should we fill him in on everything else going on?”=
=Def: “Maybe later. Who know how’ll he’d react to that information, better to let him be useful first.”=

(1/2)

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>>5564377
>3 AP: Enter the maintenance area and get the power working for the observatory.
-Deciding to give the man a fair chance, you restlessly loiter in the darkened lobby-
-Even now, the outlines of esoteric numerals circumnavigate the periphery of your vision-
-Outside, a fair distance away, you hear the tell-tale sound of a glass bottle exploding against pavement-
-Several minutes are spent watching a squiggly block of formula dreamily drift across your retina like some demented algebra-themed eye floater and listening to the indecipherably bellowing of a faraway argument-
-Just as you are beginning to entertain thoughts of checking on the guard, the fluorescent lights hanging above you crackle and flare to life-
-The nearby terminal chirps a boot-up jingle which, after several seconds of computational consternation, is replaced by a steady, static buzz swaddling the heavily distorted sound of somebody speaking-

=Dep: “The exact words are indecipherable, but the tone behind them is still coherent. It’s an announcer’s voice; strong, calm, and well-enunciated.”=
=Def: “Whatever is being said, its on repeat. Looping every 63 seconds.”=
=Sub: “Try giving the machine a firm smack, that ought to clear it up.”=
=Def: "Perhaps we should attempt a more delicate approach before liberally applying procussive maintenance."=

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=PETE=
>2AP Re-lock the door and take the opportunity to look through the peephole for whatever just happened.
-Wasting no time, you adroitly snap each of the locking mechanisms back into place-
-You have no difficulty reengaging the series of deadbolts and locks, your hand confidently flicks through the motions even in near total darkness.
-Ever since you indulged in a little research of Serenade’s crime statistics, you’d adopted the procedure of checking the house locks into your nightly routine whenever you slept here-
-With the entrance safely secured you step back, slightly more at ease-
-The deafening wail of the alarm still drummed at your ears, you turn towards the alarm interface panel mounted in the wall by the front door-

>2AP Find the security system and figure out the off-switch.
-With a handful of jabs, you input the disarm code and the alarm falls silent-
-A phantasmal impression of the siren still rings in your ears, flexing the muscles of your jaw you pop your eardrums lessening the effect marginally-
-As you navigate back towards the corridor junction, you hear a crunch of glass underfoot-
-You crouch down to get a better look -
-A picture frame has fallen off the wall, presumably you accidently knocked it down while fighting-
-The glass has shattered, the frame has broken-
-Flipping the with your toe, you extract the image set eschew within the frame and closely inspect it-
-It’s a family portrait, looks to have been taken around the time you started elementary school-
-Your parents are smiling comfortably, you haven’t seen them look this at ease in a long time -
-Your place in the picture has been scuffed, in particular the depiction of your youthful face has badly marred -

=Def: Note the abrasion. A blunt round point with a diameter of approximately 3mm, tapering off in a short curving streak. Whatever brought the picture down must have directly struck the photo, shattering the glass pane in the process, then destabilized the frame enough to knock it from the hook.=
=Sha: Maybe our broomstick?=
=Def: That hypothesis fits.=

-There is a creak above you, the sound of light footsteps on timber floorboards-
-Outside, in the direction the carpool roller door, you pick out a dry fluttering noise and a soft scraping rasp-

=Intellect Test=
=DC 10 vs 3d6+(Dep/2)=
=10 vs 9+2=
=Success=

=Dep: “Echoes of slain forests. The language of shaved wood.”=
=Def: “Pages of a book being fanned through. Sheets of paper being dragged across an abrasive surface. Odd.”=

- Affixing your eyes on the corridor junction behind you in case of a secondary ambush, something catches your attention -
-The light filtering down from the staircase, previously clean and white now has a slight salmon tint to it-
-Perhaps your eyes are just playing tricks on you, you’ve been wandering around in the dark for a while after all-

=Dep: “Then again, perhaps not.”=

=PS=
>3 AP: Search the bar
-Proceeding up 19th street for several minutes you pause to catch your breath, stopping in the angular needle shadow of another monolith-
-This one has landed on a real estate office, puncturing the roof dynamically enough to shower the road with small chunks of rubble-
-The short trip here was uneventful and devoid of life, with nothing transpiring more remarkable than circumnavigating an upturned taxi.-
-At the intersection ahead you spy a manned barricade, stern well-postured men dressed in patchwork uniforms blue and fluorescent yellow patrol the cordoned area: Police officers-

=Perception Test=
=DC 10 vs 3d6+(Def/2)=
=13 & 18 vs 7+2=
=Failure, Failure=

- The pub you’re looking for is just a short jaunt west from the intersection before you, however from this angle you cannot see it-
-Assuming that this police cordon covers the entire mall and all adjourning streets then the pub should definitely lie within the safeguarded area-

>1 AP: Search the mall
-The block immediately to the northwest of this intersection is the site of the mall, as in the shopping centre encompasses the entirety of the block-
-The familiar landmark provides a small comfort, a bizarrely lopsided superstructure that at a glance stokes the imagination with visions of a gigantic lightswitch conspicuously jutting from the urban sprawl-

=Perception Test=
=DC 8 vs 3d6+(Def/2)=
=8 vs 9+2=
=Success=

-From your position you can see numerous citizens of Serenade milling around the mall’s perimeter, perhaps taking shelter here -
- If some manner of evacuation is underway that would definitely explain why the streets are so deserted-
-Back at the intersection, you notice that one of the constables monitoring the street waving you over-

(1/2)

>>5564386
=Dep: “It’s not a threatening gesture or an authoritative one. The energy of the action is reminiscent of a forest ranger discovering a hiker who had been lost in the wilderness for a week. You aren’t obligated to comply, unless you wanted to get past them, in which case you’ll probably need to engage in some limited diplomacy.”=
=Def: Well, everything looks properly under control here. I’m impressed. With those freakish ape-like creatures running amok, I half expected the rule of law to have totally collapsed.=

-It is at that very moment that a clump of star-sludge is shaken loose from somewhere far above, culminating in the inky semi-solid crashing into the middle of the intersection with a sundering impact-
-With the twitching reconstituting goop narrowly having missed a now shell-shocked pedestrian, all present at the intersection have had their attention firmly fixed upon the writhing anomaly -
-In violation of several laws of common sense, several officers slowly approach the nascent imp with only one exhibiting the foresight to reach for his sidearm before investigating the eldritch mass-
-Before you can decide on how to proceed you notice a smattering of blood-red flakes descending into the road between you and the intersection-
-As they collide with the pavement the crimson shapes silently shatter, releasing a sparse wispy mist that shifts with warping temporal fractals-
-Gazing into the shallow vaporous banks is an disconcerting experience, light is accelerated and delayed at inconsistent rates throughout the phenomena resulting in your senses receiving a fractured myriad of desynchronized perspectives on whatever you’re observing all at once
-You boggle as the chassis of a vehicle within the fog wrinkles and warps, colours growing dull, exterior accumulating a layer of dust, and tires pressure visibly decreasing beneath the unnatural passage of time-
- Nearby you see a moist piece of paper trash subsumed by the creeping cloud flake apart and dissipate within a matter of moments, dismantled and disseminated like daffodil seeds in the breeze-

(2/3)

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>>5564389
-Even the sturdy bitumen beneath your feet is not exempt from the deteriorating effect, tiny cracks and blemishes ripple out across the road’s surface where the gaseous effect is most dense and the road markings grow fainter by the moment-

=Def: “I probably don’t need to say this explicitly, but wading through that would be medically inadvisable.”=
=Sub: “Just watching this magical pixie bullshit go to work is making my bones ache.”
=Def: What now? Just wait around for the road to clear? Shouldn’t we at least try to warn the officers about what they’re dealing with over there?=
=Sha: “Inaction is death. We could try cutting through the buildings around us. Pathfinding through a ratnest of side-alleys and locked doors may prove time-consuming though.”=
=Def: “We could always circle back and approach from a different direction.”=
=Sub: “No. I hate backtracking. It always ends in misfortune.”
=Def: “Come now. Don’t be irrational, it’s the most straight-forward path that doesn’t involve getting lost in an apartment building.”=
=Sub: “No, if we turn back we’ll almost definitely trip directly into a massive melee and at least two of you will end up dying horrifically.”=
=Dep: "Huh?"=
=Def: “… and what exactly are you are basing any of this on?”=
=Sub: “The sharply-homed instincts of an apex homo sapien.”=
=Def: “Right. Of course.”=
=Sha: “I cannot attest to the rest of your babbling but you are undoubtedly an ‘apex homo’”

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-Looming over all and framed by the exhalation of desolation, hung the Spotlight-
- Spinning, contracting, flaring out into increasing-elaborate designs, weaving a sepulchral web of capriciously less-than-entirely-circumstantial coincidence-
-Scattered among the works of man, hallowed pillars consecrated by the hues of unearthly souls thrum to life-
-Burning invisibly with redundant dimensionality, the monolithic towers impress themselves upon the world, a corrupting inculcation to herald the genesis of the next act-

># Second Act, First Scene: Commence #

Rolled 2, 5, 2, 6, 6, 3 = 24 (6d6)

>>5564406
>1 AP: Go check outside, father's taking a while and that sound was disconcerting
>3 AP: React to whatever is seen (assist father / hide / flee / go back inside and try to (delicately) fix the terminal)

Rolled 6, 3, 5, 4, 2, 3, 1, 3, 5, 3, 6, 4 = 45 (12d6)

>>5564406
Whatever is playing with books outside can wait. Books shouldn't open a garage door, and if it's more of those things trying to make a pile, Pete intends to meet them on the second floor, broom handle at the ready. But first, that glow...either that thing in the sky is acting up, or it's the obelisk...come to think of it, that flash earlier with the colors had white square, but also a pink square at the center, so maybe it's all related? Is the obelisk calling out to those things, or is one of them already up there fiddling with it? Either way, Pete isn't going to let them have it. It is on his family's property after all. Best be ready.

>1AP Sneak up the stairs, keeping an eye out for a wounded or dead Shield intruder, or the mote coming from its corpse.
>3AP. "Deal" with the situation upstairs, whether it be by bashing more skulls or touching the obelisk again.

Rolled 4, 2, 3, 1, 2, 5, 2, 2, 2, 1, 5, 6 = 35 (12d6)

>>5564390
>4AP: Navigate through the buildings around the gas

Rolled 1, 6, 5, 4, 5, 6 = 27 (6d6)

>>5564406
What the fuck.

It was like a fascinating combination of a geometric optical illusion and a year old mold. Like a grotesque piece of art by Escher or someone mom would like. Garishly bright candy coloured tiles in a too-deep synthetic pastel kaleidoscopic explosion of chunky mycelium clumps mixed with random blobs of cheap padded laminate, linoleum, and cardboard that bubbled to the surface like a shark fin poking through oil slick all made for a sickening hypnosis. Every inch offered a new nuance of filth complimenting the rather offensively vulgar tongue in cheek 1950s sentimentality offered by the deli's interior design. The minimalist modernity of the front counter somehow felt at home with the warmer nostalgia of the booths, both complementing the architectural rainbow horror of the ceiling. After all, wasn't all post-modern art a horror that dwarfs even the present circumstances such that an alien anomaly seems right at home alongside it, if not even a little mundane in comparison?

I could get lost in it. I was losing myself in it. How couldn't I lose myself in it. Why was I losing time in it. I am lost in it.

I blinked.

The open conscious repetition of what I was doing brought awareness to my unconscious mutterings and my sudden, silent borderline crazy rant upon seeing the ceiling. Weird.

I looked back up at the ceiling and blinked again. The anomaly was still there, vaguely still appropriately described by my internal rant, but the details were entirely off. I must also have been hallucinating, because while the deli was garishly bright and kitschy sorta like the mold I'd struggled to put words to internally, it wasn't exactly what I would call a post-modern nightmare. Did I have a flashback or something, I don't think that has happened before. Am I schizophrenic or something? This is a bad time to spontaneously develop a mental illness. Mom was a schizo though, was it hereditary? Moving on...

...A quick check of my watch confirmed I'd only lost a little more than a minute of time staring at the ceiling like a weirdo. Looking back it seemed Yasmine was still faceplanting on the table like she wanted to merge with it. Whatshisface-I didn't care about whatshisface.

I hopped the counter. Well, that was weird, but I had shit to do. I made a new friend and somehow caught a simp in the process. I had a mission from god - well, maybe - and while the ceiling was probably related to that and I intended to investigate, at the end of the day the goal was still to kill people, or aliens, or whatever to get into heaven. That meant getting my mean friend to be more friendly with me and get on board with killing people. Icepack, icepack, where art thou...

>2 AP: Check employees-only area for a icepack and/or medkit, fast. Ward off employees with a explanation. This isn't negotiable.
>2 AP: Inform associates about the ceiling anomaly. Assess/examine it. We need to know whether to run or benefit from it.

>1 AP: Go check outside, father's taking a while and that sound was disconcerting
-You step out into the street, the Laboratory is the only building on the street with its lights on-
-A piece of plastic trash topples past, caught in a current of air snaking its way towards the raging fire to the far East-
-To your south you notice that a nearby garage warehouse, one ‘Sam’s Secura Storage’, seems to be more time ravaged than you remember-
-The large sign emblazoned with the business’s name and logo is peeling at its edges and appears slightly sub-bleached.-
- The tasteful arrangements of low shrubbery and broad-leafed trees which framed the perimeter of the property have mostly wilted-
-To your east, you see a middle aged man and young woman, beating and shouting at someone on the ground-
-Tiny fragments of glass coat the ground near the confrontation, lit by the radiance of the Spotlight one could mistake them for droplets of water-

=Dep: “The fallen individual appears to be intoxicated, or beaten to a state of punch-drunkenness.”=

-Glancing around, you considering whether to intervene or if you should find someone else to intervene, when you spot the familiar silhouette to the west -
-Leaning on a cane which he evidently does not need, your father loiters near the corner of the block, rocking slowly on his heel as he regards the immense bulk of the Curtain to the west-
-Several dozen meters further westward the otherworldly phenomena quite literally has sliced into the urban landscape, vanishing beneath the concrete skin of Serenade and thrusting downwards an unknown distance-
-The effect is seamless, at a certain point the road ends in a black-violet wall dotted with redshifted stars which lazily spiral upwards through the material towards the Spotlight suspended kilometers above-

=Def: “A surreal sight, the magnitude of this structure boggles the mind. Perhaps we'd be able to learn more from a closer inspection.”=
=Dep: “The interior curvature of a polished bell jar reflected in compound fractal of its captive’s eye.”=

(1/?)

>>5575533
=Aster=

-Responding to your approach, Sebastian turns and, visibly brightening, eagerly waves you over with the curved haft of the cane-

Sebastian: “Ah Aster. Sorry for not returning sooner. I guess the awe of all… this, side-tracked me a little.”

-He sheepishly shrugs a shoulder in the general direction of the Curtain.

Sebastian: “I had intended to fetch this cane to help you safely descend the stairs, but it seems as though you didn’t need it either. Like father, like daughter eh?”

-You had gifted the cane clutched in your father’s hand as a joke for his 55th birthday, a goodnatured jab at his bellyaching about getting grey hairs. It was a stereotypical geriatric’s cane, a veined polished shaft of hard timber terminating in a curved grip.-
Youthful enthusiasm creeps into the man’s voice as he continues-

Sebastian: “ Anyway, I’ve actually taken a quick jaunt around the block, and we seem to be right on the perimeter of whatever this is. It’s changed a little since I came down here too! Started… swirling, frankly I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

-Snorting semi-incredulously, he levels his gaze back to you.-

Sebastian: “Got any ideas kiddo?”

-Responding with uncertainty hum, you glace back towards the immensity of the curtain, sweeping your gaze across its lethargically ruffling surface-
-Searching for something: an overlooked detail, a hint to its function or nature, anything substantial at all really-

=Perception Test=
=DC: 4 & 14 & 20 vs 3d6+(Def/2)=
=4 & 14 & 20 vs 9+2=
=Success Failure, Failure=

-As you concentrate upon the Curtain, the esoteric fuzz clouding the peripheries of your sight begins to pulsate where they the unnatural veil intersects your cone of vision, resonating in tune with some invisible signal-
-Gradually, the random drifting paths of each fragment of rogue data begin following a discernible pattern, flowing in loose concentric arcs before consolidating into searing threads which collapse and expand in nested circles-
-An impression of accord washes through you, an invitation for communion which pings consciousness with a feverish insistence from a source that you cannot quite pin down-
-Skincrawling vibrations take up residence within the jelly of your eyes as you hold your focus on the beckoning static ballet, the intensity compounding until you are forced to blink, immediately dispelling the effect-

=Dep: The splinter ghosts of information trapped behind our mind’s eye call to the Curtain and are in turn called by it=

(2/3)

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>>5575536
>3 AP: React to whatever is seen (assist father / hide / flee / go back inside and try to (delicately) fix the terminal)
-Breathlessly, you attempt to articulate what you just experienced to your father-
-For his part, he endeavors to maintain a neutral expression, though the news that the visual hallucinations dogging you persist etch minor creases of concern into his face-
-Sebastian shakes his head, dispelling the traces of worry fermenting upon his expression.-
Stepping out into the street in front of you, the old man flashes a trusting smile, then asks-

Sebastian: “I-I see. Well, what do you suppose that this indicates? That the seizure you suffered earlier and this star-spangled aberration are linked somehow?”

-As you begin to digest that query and internally postulate upon possibilities, something rattles the edge of your awareness-
-Several engines sparking to life nearby, revving with irrepressible anticipation of motion -
-With a discordant motorized roar and the squeal of rubber on tarmac, several blurs whizz around the corner to the north and bear down upon Sebastian.

=Agility Test=
=DC: 16 vs 3d6+(Sha/2)+Ap=
=16 vs 15+2+2=
=Success=

-With bare milliseconds to spare, you lunge forward and drag Sebastian back onto the curb, narrowly evading a collision as a gang of motorbike-mounted hoodlums streak past at dangerously reckless speeds-
-As they vanish down 17th street, they flash obscene gestures, hoot, and rowdily jeer at the pair of you-

=PETE=

>1AP Sneak up the stairs, keeping an eye out for a wounded or dead Shield intruder, or the mote coming from its corpse.
-Partially illuminated by the piercing light of the Spotlight you find what’s left of the Shield intruder’s body-
-It’s unmistakably dead and is largely disintegrated, only a scant handful of gently fizzling chunks remain-
-You aren’t able to locate where the creature’s improvised shield had fallen, and so turn towards the stairs-
-Exercising caution, you ascend slowly, measuring the weight distribution of each step to avoid causing the staircase to creak underfoot-

=Stealth Contest=
=3x(3d6+(Def/2)) vs 3d6+(Sha/2)=
=6+1, 14+2, 14+1 vs 18+2=
=Success, Success, Failure=

-You manage to maintain silence as reach the head of the stairs, tentatively you peek out from the stairwell to gauge the situation-

>3AP. "Deal" with the situation upstairs, whether it be by bashing more skulls or touching the obelisk again.
-Peering around the shattered bannister and sundered architecture, you do a double-take-
- A sizable section of the second floor had been converted, and yet more is still being converted-
-The architecture of the house was being replaced piecemeal, where once there was charred carpet and crumbling timber there now existed patchy layers of ablative tilework wrought from iridescent pink ceramic impossibly mounted upon coathanger-thin scaffolds of blue and red metal-
-Each tile is adorned with unique scrape-like pattern of curving lines, there doesn’t seem to be any regularity or pattern to the tile placements that you can discern-
-A shuffle of motion nearby catches your attention, and you carefully sweep your gaze over the bizarre environment -
-There are two short figures in the ruin smeared space where the atrium once stood, once the room hosted a small indoor garden and sitting space, though now barely any indications remain that the room existed-
-From this distance, and with the obstructions littering this ruined floor breaking your line of sight, you struggle clearly discerning them-
-Whatever they are, there is something uncannily abnormal about them-
-One is currently leveraging its twig-like limbs to help the other scramble over the crumbling hurdle of window frame while jittering in an excited manner-

(1/?)

>>5575542
-A large quantity of viscous gunk is dripping from the knotting material of the Curtains where it converges around the Spotlight, seeming being twisted like a towel being wrung out -
-From your vantage point, you spot 12 droplets plummet into the surrounding streets: 2 to the north, 3 to the east, 6 to the south, 1 to the west-
-To your south, a building sags conspicuously, seemingly savaged by the march of time to a much greater extent than the structures surrounding it-
-Your bedroom window faces that building, you’ve glimpsed it many times during you stay here, though admittedly you never really focused on it-
-It’s current state of minor decrepitly does not match your memory of it-
-A steady gust of warm wind blows from the west, you can make out a vast plume of smoke rising from that direction-
-You hear a faint rustle beneath the rush of wind, and glance around to confirm the imps hadn’t detected you: they remain oblivious-
-The sound comes again, dry and rasping, like dead leaves caught in an updraft -

=Perception Contest=
=3d6+(Sha/2) vs 3d6+(Def/2)=
=14+2 vs 9+2=
=Failure=

-All is quiet for a moment, then a harsh flapping flutter whispers in your ear-
- The sound is louder, disconcerting close, mere steps behind you-
-Your stomach sinks as you belatedly realize what you had been hearing-

=Def: “Paper.”=
=Dep: “Dead leaves of a sort.”=

-Dropping all pretense of stealth you kick off away from the stairwell, surprising the imps who had finally managed to clamor onto the roof-
-From the corner of your eye you catch sight of a sequence of paper sheets wave out from the stairwell, a sharp sting blossoming as it swipes across one of your forearm-
-While not sharp precisely, the hair-breath segments of parchment still exhibit a degree of penetration as they drag across your exposed flesh, opening incredibly fine incisions that wept blood surprisingly readily despite their shallowness-

(You have sustained 1 Bleed.)

=Sub: “Looks worse than it is. After we’re done flattening these scumbags, stop for a few moments and I’ll patch us up.”=
=Def: “Physical exertion will aggravate the bleeding, consider fleeing for now.”=
=Sub: “Such a small wound won't burden us for a while. Focus on the fight.’

(2/?)

>>5575546
-On the stairs, your assailant slithers into full view-
-It’s definitely not human-
-You’d half expected that, what with the inexplicably immediate decomposition and the ridiculous stature of the invaders, but having it confirmed before your eyes provokes a feeling you have difficulty articulating in the moment-
-Before you is a bipedal humanoid, its exterior is pale leathery and layered in black scrawl, a disheveled mane of literal book pages obscures much of its head and upperbody-
- It’s limbs and torso unnaturally distend in restless undulating motions, their anatomy periodically parting in paper-like sheets before shuffling back together into a cohesive form.
-This creature is distinctly larger than the beings you had encountered thus far, where they only reached your knees you estimate that this monstrosity would stand waist high if not for its slumped wobbling posture-
-It also boasts greater thickness of its torso and extremities, as well as a noticeably more confident demeanor-
-The papercraft horror lifts one of its ape-like limbs, unfurling them into layers, then thinner smaller layers, then spraying them in parallel to each other exposing rivulets of blood soaking into its parchment flesh-
-Your blood-
-A faint shockwave ripples outwards from the taunting creature, the air bristles with tension-
-Where your blood stains the creature’s pageflesh the maroon pigment swarms and shifts, consolidating into words and sentences that themselves are contorted into pictures-
-Most are fragmentary, of those that are sufficiently complete to be comprehensible: most depict scenes but some are simpler-
-The largest is a grotesque caricature of your face rendered in intimidating detail, twisted in visceral terror and brutalized to the point of exposing the bone and musculature beneath-
-The creature cackles in malicious delight-

=Sanity Check=
=DC 12 vs 3d6+(Dep/2)=
= 12 vs 9+2=
=Failure=

(You have sustained 1 Trauma)
(Dep reduced to 3/4)

(3/4)

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>>5575549
-Mind reeling, you lurch towards the obelisk and slap a sweaty palm onto its surface-
-Instead of the expected glow and inviting ingress, the monolith rumbles with discontent-
-The resonance conveys meaning to you as clearly as spoken words, you bite into the side of your mouth in frustration-

=ADVERSARY PRESENSE EXCEEDS STELLAR NETWORK SANCTITY=
=SANTUARY ACCESS IS PROHIBITED WHILE ALTAR IS CONTESTED=

-Tightening your grip on your broomstaff, you swerve on the spot wildly lashing out at the shambling mass of predatory parchment-

=Agility Contest=
=3d6+(Sha/2) vs 3d6+(Sha/2)+Ap=
=7+2 vs 13+2+2=
=Success=

=Damage Calculation=
=Sub vs 1d2+(Sub/2)=
=4 vs 1+2=
=Adversary 3-1-2-1 has sustained 3 Wounds=
=Adversary 3-1-2-1 remains alive=

-The modest polearm lances out, landing solidly in the cleft of the creature’s shoulder-
-The swing’s carry through shoves the monster back a couple steps and gouges a chunk from its upper arm, scattering a clump of paper to the wind-
-The abomination shutters with a furious buzz, its left arm hanging limply by its side and barely attached to its torso-

=PS=

>4AP: Navigate through the buildings around the gas
-Breaking away from the main road, you begin checking the doors of each building within view, searching for an unsecured entry point-
-After several moments you come to a pair of glass automatic doors barring access to an rather generic looking office building-
-Sans a power supply the entrance motion sensor does not register your presence, however after jostling the mechanism you notice that the lock hasn’t been engaged-
-Wedging your fingers into the crack between the doors, you easily pry them apart and slip inside-
-The building’s lobby is much as you’d expect from such an establishment, stone-tile floors, a well-organized front desk, drytack walls left blank save for a series of framed magazine frontpages, a sitting area containing several uncomfortable plastic chairs and a watercooler-

=Def: Those framed magazines ae published by a moderately popular lifestyle company. You’ve never read them personally, but you’ve seen them in passing in newsagents and newspaper stands. Based on the front covers, they broadly cover topics of new-age health, mental wellbeing and miscellaneous lifehacks=
=Def: These particular magazines are dated exactly one year apart, taken collectively we can infer that this business has been running for at least seven years.=

-Your quiet contemplation is broken by a hoarse cry of pain and the sound of a firearm discharging -
-A muffled cacophony of human panic filters in from outside, apparently things are not going well -

=Sha: There’s no reason to linger. Let’s move on.=

(1/?)

>>5575557
-After a brief investigation of the building’s ground floor you confirm that no human activity has occurred recently-
-All that lingers in the sterile halls is the overpowering scent of discount air fresher along with a faint undercurrent of printing ink-
-Searching the floor further you find an non-functional elevator, a staircase leading to the second floor, a sturdy - and unfortunately locked - side-door, and a set of restrooms-

=Perception Test=
=DC: 8 & 17 vs 3d6+(Def/2)+3AP=
=8 & 14 vs 9+2+3=
=Success, Failure=

-Just as you felt your prospects for finding an easy path through this building were souring, you notice that one of the windows in the woman’s bathroom is open a crack-
-The window in question stretches along an entire wall, running from above the sink, over four stalls and stopping above some form of tampon and toiletry dispenser wedged into the corner of the room-
-Standing on the sink, you stretch up and manage to yank the window open about half a meter before it clatters to a stop, stubbornly jamming -
-Even factoring the sink as a footstool, accessing the opening you’ve created will necessitate some awkwardly precise acrobatics as it is situated in an awkward midpoint between the sinks and the first stall-
-Even if you got up there, the aperture has barely 30cm of clearance vertically, a very tight squeeze -
-However, being bereft of any better options beyond searching the second floor, you roll your shoulders decide to try your luck-

=Agility Test=
=DC: 10 vs 3d6+(Def/2)=
=10 vs 8+2=
=Success=

-The thin strip of metal which keeps the sliding window securely on its rails offers little traction and even fewer comfortable handholds, all the same you shimmy towards the opening as gravity drives your poor digits down upon the metallic edge-
-This biting ache pales in comparison to the torrent of anguish which you endured earlier however, and emboldened by this realization you soon push past the welling discomfort and reach your goal-
-Straining against your own bodyweight, you heave your head and an arm through the gap, roughly bracing yourself on the outside wall and undoubtedly bruising your chest in the process-
-For a few minutes, your upperbody becomes stuck in the tight passage and spend some time contorting your body into a more favorable position-
-By the time you had wiggled halfway through, something above you gave way-
-The window coughed a cracking rattle, followed by a distinct snap as the pressure folded on of the railguards and sent the shitty plastaglass frame clattering to the bathroom tiles-
- No longer snagged and with more than enough clearance you find that gravity abruptly reasserts itself from the opposite direction, setting you on an involuntary course to shouldercheck the planet-

(2/?)

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>>5575559
-You land hard on a pair of disconcertingly squelchy garbage bags, one ruptures, dispensing its vile, wriggling contents-
-You roll away and stumble to your feet, brushing off loose gravel and several damningly sticky pieces of what you hope is chewing gum, rasping for breath you glance around-
-You are in a side alley, running between the magazine office and a three story apartment complex-
The alley is quite dank and grimy, seemingly it is primarily used for storing the dumpsters used by the local businesses-
- To your right the alley opens out into the street you were in previously, that path is still mostly obstructed by time-warping haze.-
-To your left the alley continues for a while before turning sharply north and south-
-Technically it’s not a T-intersection but a crossroads, however the alley westward is blocked by a tall chainlink fence-
-Your eyes snap over to a nearby dumpster, noting the wheels installed on its base for ease of movement-
-The fence isn’t an insurmountable obstacle, you mentally catalogue it as a mild inconvenience and move further down the filth-encrusted passage-
-Shouts from the street reverberate down the alley towards you, following the noise you turn right at the fence-
-The alley extends for a couple dozen meters, containing nothing more stimulating than a toppled garbage can, before being somewhat ineffectively obstructed by the bulky frame of a police van-
-Over the roof of the vehicle, the angled sprawl of shopping complex looms-

=Def: “The placement of isn’t coincidental. This van was driven onto the sidewalk and purposely parked as close to the building as possible.”=
=Sha: “This blockade is even less of an obstacle than the chainlink fence. It’d be trivial to crawl under or over it.”=
=Def: “It logically follows that such a meagre vehicular barricade would be guarded, maybe somebody is keeping watch from the other side.”=

-Another chorus of shouting ring out from the supposed ‘safe’ zone, a feminine shriek of alarm overshadows the din momentarily-

=Dep: “They’re probably preoccupied.”=

-Testing the door's handle, you confirm that the police van has been locked, then take a step back to peruse your options-
-You can either crawl under the van or climb over it, neither approach will be very taxing but it will be fairly conspicuous for anyone that happens to be looking your way-
-Alternatively, you could double back and seek a different way in-

=ANISE=
>2 AP: Check employees-only area for an icepack and/or medkit, fast. Ward off employees with a explanation. This isn't negotiable.
-You lose little momentum as you vault over the service counter and confidently push into the kitchen beyond-
-A small part of you hopes that the maneuver looked as slick as it felt-
-Your attention is snapped back to practical affairs upon taking stock of your surroundings-
-There are no workers back here, however that bizarre muddling curse has asserted itself much more strongly in the room-
-As you draw closer to the architectural anomaly the materials composing it promptly react -
-The headache-inducing omni-coloured collage of clashing textures and colours immediately undergo another puzzlebox transition, synchronously settling on a coherent state and seamlessly blending together -
-The resulting decor is timelessly antediluvian: sedan-proportioned blocks of sunset-crimson sandstone, and flake-cracked lead comprise the walls and floor, each piece carved and fitted into the greater whole with such unerring perfection that the only allusion to the gaps between each rock slab are whisker-thin wrinkles in the wall’s surface-
-Periodically the walls are decorated with bas-reliefs of glass and brass, indented with hieratic glyphs and dramatic depictions of sun-scraping towers wreathed with lightning, cyclopean cogs grinding up millions of humans as they are fall into the depths of the earth, and grand fortress-metropoles under sieged by endless hailstorms of devils-
-Some of the affected stoves have transmuted into grate-lidded braziers embedded into granite slabs-
-Annoyingly, small piles of blue-white sand seems to manifest in the corners of rooms and beneath furniture apropos of nothing-
-In the most severely infected section of the kitchen is what you presume to be a freezer, though it more closely resembles a vault of lead and rusted iron now-

=Def: “We might be able to find something cold in there, but it looks to be solid lead…”=
=Sub: “Even with the other two’s aid, it’s doubtful that we could shift such prodigious weight.”=

(1/WayWayTooMuch)

>>5575562
-Opposite to the door you entered through is a set of fogged heat-shielding plastic flaps, partially transmuted into veils of mothgnawed fabric woven from heavy roughspun fibers-
-Carefully elbowing through the barrier, you enter into what once may have served the duel purpose of a break room and a stock room-
-The room resembled the inside of a kaleidoscope, having been almost completely subsumed by the anomaly-
-Upon your approach the crawling chaos shuddered warping to resemble the austere Neolithic aesthetic of the previous room-
-The budget set of table and chairs in the center of the room, dissolve into a circular plinth of granite, hosting earmarked sheets of papyrus and rudimentary eating utensils, all coated with a fingernail-thick layer of greasy dust -
-The mounds of packages and boxes shoved into the corners of the room are replaced with crude earthenware vessels and rotted reed baskets-
-The various storage racks sink into unravelling walls, creating depressions in their wake that solidify into shelf alcoves carved out from the ancient rock and occupied by scatterings of brittle clay jars, esoteric glassware instruments and heavily decomposed trinkets-
-Beside the table, sprawled on the floor with a gleaming puddle of blood beneath this head, lay the pale body of an old man-
-The man is dressed in an unmistakably modern service uniform emblazoned with the Diner’s name in looping cursive: ‘Sammies’-

=Sub: There’s too much blood. He’s not breathing, or moving at all. =
=Def: Entire swathes of the room have been wildly rewritten. It’d be practically impossible to infer what happened from his surroundings given these circumstances.=
=Dep: The juxtaposition between this modern man slowly decaying within this sepulchered husk of fossilized civilization is jarring to say the least.=
=Def: “We could inspect the condition of the corpse, but we’re no physician. Expect any insights gained to be elementary at best.”=
=Sha: ”There may be something valuable to pilfer from his corpse. He won’t be needing it anymore.”=

=Perception Test=
=DC: 6 & 11 & 16 vs 3d6+(Def/2)+Ap =
=6 & 11 & 14 vs 12+2+1=
=Success, Success, Success=

-Behind a toppled stack of wire-frame cuboids half buried beneath a bone-blanched hill of sand you spy a first aid-station is mounted between a set of lockers stand and an aluminum-reinforced wooden side-door-
-The trio seemingly sit on the periphery of the antiquating corruption retaining their contemporary state, though you doubt that this will remain the case for much longer-

(2/???)

>>5575563
-Immediately plundering the firstaid-station, you take swiftly take a mental inventory of its contents: paracetamol, bandaid plasters of varying sorts, disinfectant cream, and a disposable coldpack -
-Triumphantly you snatch up the rubbery coldpack and skim through the instructions printed on the back-
- The incredibly dense block of text advises the user to firmly fold the spongey square in a specific manner then gently hold the inflating cushion against the inflamed area, emphasizes that the pack will quickly become ineffective 30 minutes after activation, and issues a spectacularly lengthy list of dire warnings about the repercussions of consuming the package’s contents-

(Obtain x1 Hypacool Instant Coldpack)

-Shifting your focus to the lockers, you observe that none of them seem to be secured, with a few even blatantly hang ajar, the sleeve of woolen jumper dangles limply from one such compartment-
-One compartment vibrates tinnily with the whirring chime of a phone’s ringtone-
-The nearby side entrance appears to have been forced open, the handle latch and mortise plate have been catastrophically crumpled and bent out of alignment of the doorframe-
-Down a cramped corridor lined with slot-like storage hollows, stands a threshold that opens into a closet sized room-
-Little of interest exists within this chamber besides a series of indents within the wall leading up to a rustclogged pipework mechanism laden with hieroglyphics integrated into a stone hatch set into the ceiling-

-With you loot securely in hand, you hurry out of the gloomy analogue of pyramidal ruin and back into the front-end of the diner-
-Stanford jumps slightly are you barge out of the kitchen, apparently he had become aware of the structural mutation while you were away-
-As you navigate the countertop, his eyes briefly linger on the kitchen behind you-
-The young man alternates between stealing glances at you and wearily monitoring it as it converts the male restroom plaque into a sheet of opaque glass and purple-green plastic featuring a weeping jumble of incomprehensible letters-
-He lightly clears his throat, and looks like he wants to say something, but falters when you meet his gaze.-
-Yasmine’s response to your reappearance is more subdued, fractionally rolling her head to the side to bring you into her field of view-

Yasmine: “How goes the hunt?”

-You waggle the coldpack in the air, and hopping up and over the counter once more, briskly walk over to the booth she has appropriated-
-Following the instructions of the pack, a crinkling sound is emitted by floppy plastic square as it inflates and gradually grows colder to the touch-

=Def: I wonder how that works. Perhaps some sort of protracted chemical reaction.=
=Sha: The important thing is that it worked at all.=
=Dep: “Let’s not be too presumptuous with our altruism, we’re still virtually strangers. Just hand it over to her.”

(3/???)

>>5575565
-You extend the coldpack towards Yasmin, finding your fingertips starting to tingle under the chill-
- With a small sound of discomfort, the woman lifts herself into a sitting position and accepts the offered item with a small smile slightly diffused by the thumping aches battering her skull-

=Yasmine: Ahh, thanks.=

(Affinity, Yasmine: 1)

-Tentatively, she softly rubs the coldpack against her scalp, intermittently eliciting winces or relieved sighs-

>2 AP: Inform associates about the ceiling anomaly. Assess/examine it. We need to know whether to run or benefit from it.
-Yasmine is preoccupied applying the coldpack to her head, but at your urging she demotes the task’s priority in favor of examining the transmutative corruption slowly propagating through the building towards her-

Yasmine: “Uh-huh… that’s a little freaky. Do you reckon its dangerous?”

-Shuffling over to the booth the pair of you are seat at, Stanford uncertainly posits an answer.-

=Sha: “He’s moving stiffly and his body language is rigid with tension. He’s being careful not to fully turn his back towards us.”=
=Def: “He’s not so subtly keeping us at arm’s length. Closely observing us whenever he thinks we won’t notice.”=

Stanford: “Prob-bably not? Anise seems fine, and she just strolled into the t-thick of it.”
Yasmine: “Eh? Thick of it?”
Stanford: “Ye-yeah. When Anise went to search the restaurant’s kitchen, I got a p-peak at its interior. The layout was pretty… I’m not sure how to-to phrase it, scrambled? Way more than out here.”

-You express interest in investigating the phenomena, and possibly isolating the cause.-
-Stanford blanches at the idea, discomfort and fright plainly playing across his face, however he doesn’t voice an objection.-
-Yasmine is less withdrawn, and interrogates your motivation and reasoning with unapologetic nonchalance-

Yasmine: “Why? No really. Off-the-wall batshit of every sort has been popping up left-right-and-center since that thing in the sky showed up. What’s our incentive to play detective, when we could just hunker down and wait for this disaster to blow over?”

(4/???)

>>5575568
-This comment causes a momentary hitch in your train of thought.-

=Def: Hold on, our incentive was quite literally given to us. That unspoken voice made it transparently clear that we were meant to do something, even if it wasn’t tremendously forthcoming with the details. Did Yasmine not receive that message? Were we the only one? =
=Dep: “Perhaps, or it could be a deception to get information from us. Bait to trick us into an admission that we heard the voice too.”=

-Choosing your words carefully, you state that the current situation is unprecedented and that you’ll need to have a semi-functional understanding of what’s going on if you want to survive. Expounding on that point, you explain that some risks will need to be accepted to make headway towards this goal -
-You wind-up your explanation with an assurance you aren’t demanding help, rather you’re just telling them what you plan on doing-
-Yasmine seems to accept this reasoning for the most part, crossing her arms she offers her assistance with a huff-

=Yasmine: Alright, alright, fine. You did do me a solid, so I’ll stick around for your science experiment. Just don’t except me to amputate your hand when it inevitably gets Dr-Moreau-ed into a fish head, or a bundle of telephone wires or something.=

-Stanford nervously fidgets, it’s evident that he isn’t fully comfortable with this situation but doesn’t make any indication that he’s about to leave-

=Perception Test=
=DC: 5 & 14 & 21 vs (3x) 3d6+(Def/2)+Ap=
=5 & 14 & 21 vs 15+2+1 & 10+2+1 & 7+5+3=
=Success, Success, Failure=

-As you move within a certain proximity of a smeared blotch of structural corruption - a protruding patchwork of lustrous metal rubrics, swirled with veins of chalky mineral and fibrous splinters - asserting itself through a beige wall panel like a slime mold, a shiver runs across the formation promptly reforming it into a stately buttress hewn from ageless sandstone embossed with abstract designs that no doubt hold significance to some long-dead culture you’ve never heard of-
-Stanford comes to an immediate halt as this transpires, before piping up in a voice too small for trepidation-

=Stanford: Anise. What was that. =

-It wasn’t a question but a demand, a very meek quiet demand, in-so-far as Stanford was capable of issuing such a thing-
-Head raised in an attempt to project an air of authority the man tried to stare you down, a gesture undercut by his slightly hunched posture, steadily accumulating flopsweat, and the fact that you were flatly ignoring his leering-

(5/ahhhhhhhhhhh)

>>5575571
-Impatiently, you state that the anomaly seemed to change whenever somebody drew near to it-

=Yasmine: “Why does it look the like something pulled out of an ancient temple? Are you a history buff or something?=

-Stanford interjects with uncharacteristic adversativity before you can construct a reply-

=Stanford: “No! I-I mean, that’s not true! Th-the material g-glitches, or distortions, or w-wha-hatever, don’t react to me o-or for Yasmine either! It’s you! Ther-there’s something wrong w-with you!”=
=Yasmine: “Oi, what the hell’s your problem dude?”=
=Stanford: “You don’t find this strange that-t… Anise wanders off and whe-when she returns she suddenly starts exe-rting influence over-.”=
=Yasmine: “No, not really. It’s been a thoroughly screwed-up day, so I’ve pretty much discarded my metric of normality at this point. What are you getting at?”=
=Stanford: “Wh-what if Anise was attacked and replaced by some sort of body-snatcher or doppelganger or-”=

-This remark actually causes Yasmine to choke back a chuckle-

=Yasmine: “Are you fucking serious?”
=Stanford: “Um, w-well. You’ve seen ho-ow this stuff alters the physical properties of the building, maybe if it touches a person…”=
=Yasmine: “Hypothetically, why would an evil bodysnatcher bring me a coldpack for my head, instead of just, ya’know, attacking us?”=
=Stanford: “Mmmh, maybe it’s plotting to catch us off guard by building up trust… or, or tricki-ng us into touching tha-at ‘anomaly’ to steal our identities too! Its almost exactly like when the nullborn fleshsmith managed to devour several parties of novice ad-a-adventurers by building up goodwill in the th-three rooks guild then isolating members one by o-=
=Yasmine: “Okay stop. What are you babbling about? Fleshsmith? Adventurers? Guilds?”=

-Producing his phone from a pocket, Stanford fiddles with the device momentarily before showing it to Yasmine-
-Squinting at the small screen for a moment, baffled astonishment briefly ripples across Yasmine’s expression-
-Dour expression boring into Stanford, Anise enunciates her next words very slowly-

=Yasmine: “Stanford. This is a webcomic. Fantasy entertainment for kids.”=
=Stanford: “Bu-but, its written very realistically and-d the strategies used by the pro-p-protagonist are very logical a-and can be applied to a wide variet-“=

(6/?)

>>5575575

-Stanford stammers and splutters through an increasingly incoherent string of justifications before running out of steam and sagging beneath the combined scrutiny of the two women before him-

=Dep: “Wow…”
=Def: “I cannot believe what I’ve just witnessed. Quite literally, it defies comprehension”=
=Sub: “Fucking NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERD!”=

-Judgmental silence hangs heavy in the diner-
-Striding over to the downcast man in a smooth motion, Yasmine plants a hard punch into his arm-

=Stanford: H-hey!=
=Yasmine: Don’t worry mister ~Hero~, I’m sure you’ll find I’m plenty capable of flattening any monster that gets too close. So relax!”=

-Terminally mortified, Stanford sidles away from the snickering woman in an effort to escape the relentless onslaught of teasing he had invited onto himself-

=Dep: Huh, I wasn’t aware that the human face could turn that shade of red.=
=Sha: “We’re supposed to be investigating why reality is breaking down around us, not indirectly killing people through embarrassment. Let’s get back on track.”

-Extending an olive-branch of mercy, you try to distract Yasmine from tormenting the man further, recentering everyone’s focus back on the architectural corruption fermenting in the diner-

(7/7.5)

File: Anise_t6.png (21 KB, 364x400)

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>>5575577
-It is quickly established that only your presence induces changes in the hideous structural disturbance propagating throughout the diner-
-After a few demonstrations where you lay your bare hand upon some corruption, you theorize that the corruption cannot assert a mutating influence on, or on objects immediately near, living material-
-This pronouncement triggers another interjection from Stanford-

=Stanford: Well, that d-doesn’t prove anything. It’s j-just one data point and like I said before th-ere’s plenty of r-reasons to doubt its veracity. If we want r-reliable results we need a proper, unbiased t-te-est bed, but I have misgivings about the Eth-thical ramifications of using living p-people as lab rats for such a potentially dda-angero-=

-Weary of being constantly undermined, you cut Stanford off and begin exchanging barbs with the stuttering fool -
-The following quagmire of namecalling, circular argumentation, and accusations of shapeshifting lasted for longer than it had any right to, nobody won and all participants came out the other end looking like connoisseurs of the finest industrial-grade glues-
-Brow knotting in exasperation, Yasmin flashes out towards Stanford, causing a half-formed argument to die in his throat-
-Snatching one of his hands, the Arabic woman slams it down upon a section of corrupted counter-top-
-Eyes widening into saucers the ham-faced man’s squawks in alarm, and after roughly a minute of embarrassingly futile struggle, Yasmin releases his pudgy wrist which he hurriedly retrieves with a whimper-
-Wearing a vulpine smirk, Yasmin casually answers the man’s glare of wounded betrayal-

=Yasmin: Well look at that, your hand is totally fine. Guess Anise’s theory holds water.=

-The dorky man fumes and splutters indignantly, practically hissing back-

=Stanford: “Yo-y-you couldn’t have k-no-known that would be safe!”=
=Yasmin: “You’re right! But thanks to your noble sacrifice now we do!”=

-The gesture very concisely defused the situation and refocused Stanford’s animosity at Yasmin, who seems to derive a measure of gleeful delight in getting a rise out of the young man-
-Simultaneously, Yasmin’s action provided a reasonable degree of assurance that people would not be capriciously twisted into an organic pastiches of cubism upon contact with the phenomena -

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(Several notes)
(Firstly: I've taken the time to streamline my back-end processes a little. Hopefully it makes an appreciable difference in update speed.)
(Secondly: I'm going to try making these text-sections more concise. 7000+ characters per player is not very sustainable long term. Besides the bulk of what I've written here is just empty fat which can, and should, be cut back.)
(Thirdly: Thanks for sticking around. One update/wk is admittedly a pretty abysmal rate, but rest assured that I will bring this to completion, eventually. In any case, I'll link to a new thread before this one inevitably falls into the archive.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wt39VFW1gyM [Embed]
># Second Act, Second Scene: Commence #

Rolled 3, 1, 4, 5, 5, 3, 4, 4, 3 = 32 (9d6)

>>5575601
>1 AP: It's clear that it isn't safe outside. Urge Father to come back in, we have power to observe this phenomenon.
>2 AP: Try to play around with the terminal to try to discern what message is being broadcast.
>1 AP: Head back upstairs and get to work with the powered instruments that we can use to investigate these odd happenings.

>>5575601
Firstly, ow, papercut.
Secondly, you dare? You Dare!?

The rational part of Pete's brain wants to draw attention to what feels like another game-like element. Of course they can't access the thing, there are monsters nearby.
Unfortunately, the rest of Pete's brain is back into full flight mode, raging at both the intrusion and the continued destruction of his home, so the rational part files a note for later,a long with one for apparently not receiving a mote from the last shield tar-goblin, and gets on with tactical planning.
The opposition is limited, the two goblins have been shown to have low morale. Dealing with...hmm...paper....gorilla/vampire thing? Paper gorilla sounds good...right, the paper gorilla should dissuade them from attacking long enough for him to deal with them after catching his breath. There may also be something on the other side of the obelisk? It's hard to tell in all the chaos, and Pete's mind is still reeling from that thing's drawing of him. Well, as they say replacing fear with anger is a crucial part of becoming a functional adult, as Pete heard...somewhere, he's not sure. Anyway, the best cure for that awful image is to finish what he's started. Beat down the gorilla, then mangle it's corpse, preferably while keeping eye contact with the two tar-goblins. Now, how to proceed about that...

Large arms, one shoulder weakened. Advantage at long range, need to close so it resorts to melee. Ripping out arm unfeasible without gloves...damn it.
>1 AP: Charge the weakened side of the gorilla, keep it facing us so it can't use the other one easily, maybe get a hit in.
>1 AP: It'll attempt a strike with the other arm. It should be sloppy and give us plenty of time. Dodge.
>2 AP:. Use the opening and hit it with the broom in the head, preferably the back. Discombobulate.

After that, assuming the plan survives second contact with the enemy, or before if it crumples like badly folded paper from the charge, priority should be scaring off the goblins, possibly by using the body, maybe by mangling its ugly portrait of Pete, and then getting that bleed under control. Low chance of finding anything in what's left of the bathroom, so it'll be back down in the kitchen for a towel most likely. Then back up for a full sweep and then a proper look at just what's going on outside...was that another obelisk in the street down below?

>>5578397
well, *fight mode, obviously!

And yeah, processing skirms and having an update spiral out of control are things that can ruin a schedule. I'm sticking with this though.
I'd like to see if Pete can survive this time at least!

Rolled 5, 1, 3, 1, 3, 6, 6, 6, 4 = 35 (9d6)

>>5578397

=ASTER=

>1 AP: It's clear that it isn't safe outside. Urge Father to come back in, we have power to observe this phenomenon.

=Social Contest=
=3d6+(Dep/2) vs 3d6+(Dep/2)+Affinity=
=13+2 vs 8+4+8=
=Success=

-Unsettled by Serenade’s rapid descent into anarchy and violence, you implore your father to return inside-
Dep: “Cold intensity glints behind father’s furrowed brow, he’s calculating his options. Judging from his dark muttering he seems more bothered by the insults the hoodlums flung your way rather than the evaded vehicular manslaughter.-
-Your words eventually reach him through his fuming anger, and the allure of employing the sophisticated electronic equipment to dissect the mysterious phenomena hijacking the skies begins to sway him-
-Any misgivings about withdrawing to the observatory are banished upon glimpsing earnest concern haunting your expression, huffing, the man pulls you into a one armed hug and together you retreat to the relative safety of the lobby -


>2 AP: Try to play around with the terminal to try to discern what message is being broadcast.
-You arrive inside the observatory’s security checkpoint in time to see the guard batting at the speakers connected to his terminal with visible discontent-
-After expressing your appreciation to him for restarting the power, you inquire what seems to be the matter-

Security Guard: “Oh it’s nothing miss. Just the digital radio acting up, or maybe the blackout damaged the terminal somehow… ah, I dunno. Whatever the case, every channel contains the same looping static.”

-You extend the offer to help diagnosing the problem, the man seems reluctant but eventually relents on the condition that you don’t touch anything too sensitive-

=Intellect Test=
=DC: 12 vs 3d6+(Def/2)=
=12 vs 11+2=
=Success=

=Def: “Mechanically, the computer is fine. All the channels on the terminal’s radio application do return heavy interference however – though you can still make out the message beneath the static. After poking around through a labyrinth of settings tabs, you locate a means of tuning the receiving frequencies and after several minutes manage to hone in on the sweet spot”=

(1/2)

File: Aster-T7.png (7 KB, 330x323)

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>>5581552
=???: Attention. This critical message is being delivered courtesy of the Serenade Emergency Alert System. This is not a test. A major meteorological event posing a credible threat to public safety has manifested. All civilians are urged to remain indoors, or if not possible, to proceed to one of the following disaster shelters in a calm and orderly manner. [48th&19th, Heinford Shopping Plaza], [42nd&29th, CSPD Headquarters], [54th&23th, Thornson Reef Cannery and Distribution Plant] =

-At this point, the message repeats-


>1 AP: Head back upstairs and get to work with the powered instruments that we can use to investigate these odd happenings.

=Intellect Test=
=DC: 18 & 26 & 31 vs (2x) (3d6+(Def/2)+Astronomy)*AdvTechSupport=
=18 & 26 & 31 vs (11+2+2)*3 & (10+4+3)*3=
=18 & 26 & 31 vs 45 & 51=
=Success, Success, Success=

-Sensors do not register the Spotlight’s shape, only depicting it as a solid glowing circle-
-However, the visual static afflicting you compensates for this absence as disparate shards of junk data organize themselves into flawed imitations of spirographic designs which cacophonously layer atop each other-
-A mild headache rumbles beneath your skull-

-Filtering out background luminosity, you are able to view a band of deep darkness ringing the Spotlight dissimilar to the surrounding Curtains-
-The band contains 156 beads of incredibly faint light, tightly arranged in sets of 12, forming lines that orderly encircle the spirographic celestial formation-
-Referencing the outputs from the optical spectrometer, Sebastian makes a tentative observation-

Sebastian: “Hm. Definitely not typical celestial objects. I doubt they’re objects at all actually.”

=Def: “He’s right. Those specks may look like distant stars at a glance, but on closer examination they have more in common with a light transference pattern.”=
=Dep: “Like rays of light beautifully scattered as it strikes the folded dimensions of a crystal prism, or the myriad ridged contours at the base of a glass tankard.”=

-Over the course of monitoring this stellar arrangement you notice one of the faux-stars blink out of existence, a minute later its neighbour follows suit-
-In the span of 12 minutes, you observe an entire band of 12 vanish-
-There are now only 12 bands left-

File: Pete-T7.png (9 KB, 309x322)

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=PETE=

>1 AP: Charge the weakened side of the gorilla, keep it facing us so it can't use the other one easily, maybe get a hit in.

=Agility Test=
=DC: 10 vs 3d6+(Sha/2)=
=10 vs 9+2=
=Success=

-Surging forward deftly, you pressure the hulking ape’s flank while teasingly maneuvering to keep yourself out of its grasp-

>1 AP: It'll attempt a strike with the other arm. It should be sloppy and give us plenty of time. Dodge.

=Agility Contest=
=3d6+(Sha/2) vs 3d6+(Sha/2)+Dodging+Positioning=
=15+2 vs 7+2+1+2=
=Failure=

-Misled by a pawing feint-swing, you are caught flatfooted by an abrupt lurching tackle which roughly slams you against the hardened shell of the Monolith, your breath has been knocked out of you-
-Emboldened by the apparent turning tides, the goblinoid wretches close to engagement range -

(You sustain 1 wound)
(Sub reduced to 3/4)

>2 AP: Use the opening and hit it with the broom in the head, preferably the back. Discombobulate.

=Dexterity Contest=
=3d6+(Sha/2) vs 3d6+(Sha/2)=
=10+2 vs 16+2=
=Success=

=Damage Calculation=
=Sub vs 1d2+(Sub/2)=
=1 vs 1+1.5(round-up)=
=1 vs 1+2=
=Adversary 3-1-2-1 sustained 3 wounds=
=Adversary 3-1-2-1 has been slain=

(You gain 3 Authority)

-Sending your staff flickering out in an upward arc, you catch the mistakenly triumphant paper simian under its chin-
-Astonishingly the blow breaks through the front of the monster’s bushy cranium with a ghastly rasp of paper - and something more moist - tearing-
- Several ichor-stained sheets sail off the roof’s edge as the papercraft monstrosity’s body deflates into a messy stack of smoking paper-

-Goblins waver as they reach the periphery of the battle, the higher form’s messy demise chilling whatever enthusiasm had possessed them-
-A loud slamming can be heard from downstairs -
-Ten more dark shapes fall nearby, the distribution clustering in the North and South-
-Your heart pounds in your chest, warm blood seeps from the cuts upon your arm -
-Behind you, the obelisk’s surface flushes and wavers with shimmering patterns of light-

=ADVERSARY CONCENTRATION REDUCED TO TOLERABLE LEVELS=
=SANCTUARY RESTRICTIONS RELEASED=

File: Anise_T7.png (20 KB, 313x307)

20 KB PNG

=ANISE=

-As the social jousting between Yasmine and Stanford winds down and tempers cool, you take the opportunity to withdraw into your thoughts: to process and decompress-
-Above, the warbling creak of something stepping upon aluminum sheeting reaches your ears-
-Across the street, you spy figures climbing through the desolated second story of the apartment building, congregating around the obelisk embedded there-
-Focusing upon the obelisk, you notice a familiar compositional corruption slowly rippling out from the monument’s base into the surrounding architecture-
-Breaking from your reverie, you confirm that the transmutive disorder propagating through the diner has crept forward another meter-
-The reverberating trill of the ringing phone ceases, leaving a cloying silence lingering within the subtly-shifting innards of the diner-

File: Ps-T7.png (5 KB, 323x403)

5 KB PNG

=PS=

-You pause, judging from a distance while the situation to plays out further-
-Auditory disarray thrums through the street ahead of you, reverberating with disjointed notes alarm, fear and authoritative fury -
-The shuffle of footfalls, hurried and panicked, seep into the alleyway as a muddled broth of low noise.-
-Nearby, a bellowing male voice is directing bystanders to seek shelter inside-
-Some distance to the North-East, ringing peels of despaired shrieking cuts through the air-
-In the approximate direction of the easternly roadblock, the crack of a second gunshot momentary drowns out all sound-
-The front windows of the police van before you are mirrored, however through the cracks where its frame imperfectly plugs the alley permit a degree of sight, you can occasionally make out flickers of motion as figures run past-

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zts54fT7w0U
> # Second Act, Third Scene: Commence #

Rolled 5, 5, 3, 1, 2, 1 = 17 (6d6)

>>5575601
That's a lot of posts...I appreciate the effort but wtf.

I bristled at Stanford's accusations of being a secret reptile body snatcher or...whatever it was he as accusing me of. Moreover his stiffness around me made me paranoid, - more so than usual, that is - what if he was like me? It crossed my mind that there were others like me compelled towards a computer like a puppet on strings, a chosen people meant to slaughter the herd beneath us as it were. Or perhaps I had misinterpreted my instructions, maybe we were supposed to kill each other and not random people or the sudden infestation of murderous knife humpers.

...

Perhaps I ought kill Stanford and see what colour his insides were, he could be like me, disgusting as that may sound. I don't actually recall seeing the eldritch sludge not react to - ah, never mind, well that's that put to rest.

...

Anyways, moving on.

>1 AP: Ask Stanford to investigate the hieratic glyphs and illustrations in the transformed room. Ask him to copy them down.
>3 AP: Take Yasmine and try and get into the stone hatch in the other room.

>>5581575
Whoops, missed a new batch of posts...somehow...

>>5581575
The rational part of Pete's brain quietly files away another game like element with the adversary concentration and notes the increased rewards before trying to structure the current hierarchy of needs. Was it three times more "difficult" as an enemy, or was it just three times tougher to kill? The number being linked to how much Pete struggled isn't very game-like, but it could be that?
Being ambushed after exiting the obelisk (assuming it isn't just making him see things and leaving him sprawled out on the ground, which is entirely possible given what has happened tonight) is a very likely possibility, so long as the two goblins can see him enter. But if he takes care of them, chances are, when Pete comes out, whatever could be waiting on the other side should be just quite surprised, assuming they can't feel the obelisk is occupied by someone.
Intimidation is an option, but direct force is as well, and has been rewarded by whatever is overseeing this mess.
That cut on his arm should be seen to sooner than later. Pete's earlier plan of grabbing towels from the kitchen is being jeopardized by the crash downstairs, and he is faintly aware that blood doesn't come back too quick... it's why they give sandwiches to people at blood drives, right? Pete isn't sure there are sandwiches downstairs...
Pete's body hurts all over from the impact against the obelisk. It's a dull pain, the kind of ache that would be entirely familiar if he was but a few years older. As it is, it's pretty annoying and new. He could probably walk or sleep it off, but again, that is time he doesn't have.
So many problems, so little time...

Well, a bad decision made now beats a good decision made too late. He needs a plan before the tar-goblins choose for him.
Screaming, incoherent violence it is.

>1AP: Charge one of the goblins and whack it with the broomstick. No weapons listed, so pick whichever works best. This'll be noisy, so might as well scream a little.
>1AP If the second goblin hasn't fled, whack it too. If it has, defile the paper-gorilla's corpse a bit, especially the part with our face on it.
>1AP Search for something to stop the bleeding.
>1AP Access the obelisk once more.

Trying for diplomacy via threatening hand gestures would have been fun, but it isn't the best thing to do here, since I am worried about an ambush on the way out. The defiling and stopping the bleeding used to be switched around, but I don't want to risk cancelling getting rid of the bleed stack, even if it would make more sense narratively to get patched up and mangle the bloody paperstack on the way to the obelisk. Not sure it'll even help with the trauma, but Pete seems annoyed enough by how much it hurt him to be a little mean.

kidsarecrueljack.mgr

Honestly surprised this combat heavy stuff has worked out so well so far, but then again, I seem to be lucking out with rolls.

Rolled 6, 4, 1, 1, 1, 5, 3, 5, 1 = 27 (9d6)

>>5581575
>1AP: Record the patterns, bands, and other observations, ideally on paper.
>1 AP: Attempt to connect to the internet, or failing that, see if any other computer connection exists within the city.
>2 AP: Using available resources and findings, brainstorm / experiment ways to communicate with whoever ensnared the city, or people outside it.

Rolled 4, 5, 4, 5, 4, 1, 1, 6, 2, 2, 5, 5 = 44 (12d6)

>>5581713