It wasn't supposed to happen like this. You even checked the university library, and the few...
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Spitfire Quest (Worm x D&D) - Quest Thread 1
- Thread starter evildice
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Statistics (7 threadmarks, 10k words)
User Total evildice 7
Intro & vote results collection
evildice
(emotionally stable clown posse)
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It wasn't supposed to happen like this. You even checked the university library, and the few papers you could find about trigger events didn't say anything about weird dreams of being a giant man-eating flying lizard.
Whatever. You have powers. This is your ticket out of mediocrity, and the weird dreams won't get in your way. Nothing will.
It is March 1st, 2011. Your name is Emily, and you can spit fire.
Character sheet here: https://forum.questionablequesting....character-creation-mechanics-discussion.1439/
(from https://forum.questionablequesting....character-creation-mechanics-discussion.1439/ background thread):
You are [x] A wilting wallflower at Winslow (age 15). "Oh-em-gee, did you hear what Emma did?"
Your home is [x] An orphanage, and you think of the other kids as your little brothers & sisters. The caretakers and workers are really nice, too.
See Threadmarks for votes and decisions.
Whatever. You have powers. This is your ticket out of mediocrity, and the weird dreams won't get in your way. Nothing will.
It is March 1st, 2011. Your name is Emily, and you can spit fire.
Character sheet here: https://forum.questionablequesting....character-creation-mechanics-discussion.1439/
~ Spitfire Quest (Worm x D&D) ~
Quest Decisions
(from https://forum.questionablequesting....character-creation-mechanics-discussion.1439/ background thread):
You are [x] A wilting wallflower at Winslow (age 15). "Oh-em-gee, did you hear what Emma did?"
Your home is [x] An orphanage, and you think of the other kids as your little brothers & sisters. The caretakers and workers are really nice, too.
See Threadmarks for votes and decisions.
Persons of Interest
evildice
(emotionally stable clown posse)
- Joined
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- Likes received
- 350,715
Dramatis Personae
Chapel Hill Orphanage
Albert Hines - "Big Al" - Technically just an accountant who spends one day a week at the orphanage, and rotates between other jobs the rest of the week, Big Al had previously spent a couple of evenings a week helping out with the kids on his own time. He moved into a room at the orphanage when his house burned down. It was supposed to be temporary, until his home insurance came through, but his insurance only paid out half of what his house cost, and he found that he likes living with all the kids too much. He's a beefy 33-year-old bald black man who dislikes wearing his glasses. His recreational interests are baseball (watching and playing), and jazz music (listening but not playing himself).
April Pratt - This 8-year-old girl joined the orphanage 4 years ago. She claims to not remember her parents, but sometimes she cries while whimpering "mommy" in her sleep. She's got a few freckles across her nose, and her hair is an unruly tangle of rusty brown loose curls; in the summer, she has faint red highlights. She's a strong, sporty girl, but she wishes she were elegant instead ("like a ballerina"). Her school record is decent, though she's been reprimanded for fighting twice. She likes Disney movies, and Aleph movie imports in general.
Yuu Akiyama - 18 years old and proud of it. He got his GED last year, and is inordinately proud to have put one over on the system. He delights the kids with tales of his exciting get-rich-quick schemes, but Emily is perceptive enough to realize that if he were actually getting rich quick, he wouldn't still be sleeping at the orphanage. Yuu is lively and funny, and often brings home treats for the kids. When he or a kid is threatened, Yuu is quick to fight back, hard and dirty.
Winslow High
Do we have even one friend?
The Neighborhood at Large
Mika Wu - "Ugly Mike" is the local ABB enforcer. He handles local problems and collects protection money. At Christmas, he brings gifts for the younger kids, but you've all been warned to stay away from him. You've heard the grown-ups say that if someone needs him, he's usually upstairs at Napoli Romano (an Italian restaurant).
Chapter 1: First Lunchtime
evildice
(emotionally stable clown posse)
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Tuesday, March 1, 2011
You are [x] A wilting wallflower at Winslow (age 15). "Oh-em-gee, did you hear what Emma did?"
Your home is [x] An orphanage, and you think of the other kids as your little brothers & sisters. The caretakers and workers are really nice, too.
It's dark when you awaken. The wind huffs outside, and a cold draft trips its way down your exposed arm and leg, rudely ignoring your worn flannel pajamas.
The cold wind of reality is depressingly not at all like the joyous rush of air you felt in your dream. The icy tendrils of winter down here on Earth are nothing like rarified atmosphere through which you soared, swiftly banking around thunderheads, lazily spiraling up a warm updraft.
You jerk your arm under the blanket, try to throw the blanket over your chilly leg, but the effort only draws the cold air into your covers, wrecking what remained of your warmth. Fuck. And your fingers killed. Double fuck.
You roll out of bed. Even though you had weird dreams, you feel pretty good this morning. Your body feels light as you walk to your dresser. But your hand really hurts.
Did something bite y— woah. Something glitters in your left hand.
You uncurl your left hand. You were holding onto something so hard, it cut into your palm. Your fingers were numb from gripping it. As you open your hand, and circulation resumes, the pins and needles start. Ouch. You recognize the pain, you feel it, but it doesn't matter. The glittery thing in your hand distracts your attention immediately.
It's beautiful: a perfect golden coin. In the pre-dawn darkness, you can barely see that it's etched with the majestic image of a true dragon. Even though you can barely see it, you're certain that it's much nicer looking than any stupid heraldry. Even the dark line of blood (your blood) crusted across the top edge of the quarter-sized coin can't ruin its golden purity.
The chilly wind gusts again, spilling across the uncarpeted floor and your uncomfortably bare feet, and you realize you've been standing in front of your dresser for like thirty seconds, just staring at the coin. Which is beautiful. But still, you should get moving.
You're awake early enough that you are certain to get a hot shower, maybe even a long hot shower if you're quiet about getting down to the stalls.
You put the coin do— no, no you do not put the coin down. It's precious, and it's yours, and you are keeping it right where you can fucking see it. You tiptoe to the drying rack by the radiator and pull your bath towel and washcloth off. On your way out of the bunk room, you look at the other kids: all asleep. Good. April isn't even crying in her sleep.
You quietly make your way downstairs. Very quietly. It's almost eerie, the stairs don't even creek. If you couldn't clearly hear the wind whistle outside and the big clock tick in the front room and the faucet drip in the kitchen, you'd worry about your hearing.
Half the fluorescent lights are always on downstairs. You take a second to look out the big window as you pass the front desk. The ground is still covered in snow, just as deep as yesterday. Why can't the stupid wind just blow it all away?
You head to the girl's bathroom. Your toiletries are right where you left them, in your cubby, in a little plastic mesh bag like everyone uses.
I bet some Quests only bother to put in images of plot-relevant things. Hah! Not this one.
You pull out your toiletry bag and hang it from your left wrist, replacing it with— fuck. You forgot to bring down a change of clothes. Whatever, you'll finish fast enough that you can dry your hair and use your towel to cover your body on the way back up. Or just wear your PJs. Yeah. You'll be fine.
Fine. You strip down, and put your pajamas in the cubby, and proceed to the showers. It takes a minute for the water to heat up enough, as usual. You pass the time brushing your teeth, and then examining your face very carefully for potential zits.
No zits today. Whew. You smear some face wash on, and to rinse it off, you cup your hands and— okay, right, the coin. You are very reluctant to let such a precious thing out of your grasp, but you need your hand. Squinting, trying not to let any soap get in your eye, you manage to put the coin in your toiletry bag, allowing you to rinse as normal.
Steam is starting to fog the top of the mirror just as you finish rinsing. Perfect. You carefully walk across the thick wooden planks and into the white tile stall, where hot water mercifully melts the chill from your body.
All clean.
You're not sure if it's okay to use the hot-air hand dryer to dry your hair, but the plug-in dryer broke last week, and there's no way you're going out there with wet hair. As the whine of the fan starts to wind down, you hit the big metal button to start it up again.
It's so nice to feel warm.
Satisfied that your hair wouldn't freeze solid, you let the hand dryer rattle to a stop. The jet-engine noise must have woke people up upstairs, or maybe the sun came out while you were down here, or maybe it was just time. You hear movement, thumps and clomps, and an occasional word. They'll be here soon.
You look at your left hand. The cut must not have been deep, it's stopped bleeding all on its own. You decide not to bandage it — any bandage would have to go all the way around, and that would just attract attention.
You remember the coin, and pull it out of your mesh bag. You put the bag back in your cubby. You pull on your pajamas, clasping the coin with your pinky and ring finger while your other fingers work buttons, lift pants.
You finish just as a couple of bleary younger girls enter the cubby-room.
"Goo' morning."
"Good morning!"
You make your way upstairs: your damp towels in one hand, your precious golden coin in the other.
Your coin is safely tucked into the front pocket of your jeans. These are your good jeans, and they're almost new, and there are no holes in the pockets. Your coin feels safe.
You make no particular effort to stay quiet as you get dressed. Most of your bunkmates have already gone down to shower or at least freshen up, but one kid remained fast asleep. Hmm.
You make some extra noise closing drawers, and stomp the floor a bit harder than necessary. Still no reaction. Yep, she's obviously faking it.
You poke April's cheek. Her eyes squint shut even tighter. She's such an obvious fake.
"Good moooooooorning, dimple face."
"Don't call me that!"
"Sorry. But they're ultra cute."
No answer.
"And it's time to get up."
"I'm awake." She shuts her eyes.
"Mmm, but you need to get up!" At the final word, you yank open her covers, exposing her to the bracing morning air.
"God damn it!"
"Language, April," the dorm mother's voice chides from the doorway.
"Sorry," April replies in a small voice.
"No, it's my fault. I was too rough," you intercede, giving April a kind look.
"Yeah! It's all Emily's fault!" April agrees, sitting up and pointing at you.
"I'll get you a treat tonight."
"Okay."
"As long as you've both calmed down. Chop chop, breakfast's almost ready." The dorm mother moves on, to check the other rooms.
You squat down, bringing your eyes level with April's own. "Are you okay?"
"It's nothing."
"Okay. If you want to talk…"
She doesn't answer, but she does crawl out of bed and, rubbing her eyes, make her way downstairs.
You pull your hair back into a pony tail and stretch a hair tie around it, twist and pull again, and done. Low-maintenance, you lamented, but at least it was still cute, in a plain and simple kind of way.
You put your wallet in your other front pocket, away from your coin. With the coin you put another two hair ties and your locker key. You hang your bus pass and rape whistle around your neck, and you're ready for breakfast.
Your thick wool socks make no noise as you pad out of your room and down the stairs.
Someone must already be watching TV. You hear a familiar commercial jingle, and a familiar announcer voice. "Clogged drain? Get it clear in no time! Use Clockblocker brand Drain-o."
You wonder how much he gets for these commercials. Must be nice.
You reach the front room, which is both the dorm's living room and the guest waiting area. In front of the TV are two boys. The older one is a few years younger than you. You must have been quiet: neither of them look over as you walk past the front desk.
The older boy is sitting cross-legged on the floor, closer to the TV than is advisable. The younger boy is wrapped up in one of the couch throw blankets. Maybe he's cold because he's still in his PJs.
The younger boy tries to rest his head on the older boy's leg. The older boy absently pushes away his head, which moves a little and then moves back. The older boy looks down and takes a moment to line up his finger, then flicks the younger boy's ear.
The younger boy flinches away, sobbing, and rolls to the other side, putting his head on the carpet instead. When the commercials end and the cartoon comes back on, you notice that he stops sobbing. Mostly.
You go into the kitchen and help with breakfast.
Almost a quarter of the class is late to first period, and four kids are absent.
"Eight inches of snow, and they won't even call a snow day."
"I know, right? The drive in was crazy."
"Dad was all like, back in my day…"
Julia and Madison apparently get driven to school by their parents. Must be nice.
Suddenly, there's a note of tension in the air. You look around, very careful to remain casual, normal, unnoticed.
It's Taylor, the victim girl. She stands up and hefts her heavy, full backpack onto one shoulder. The loud girls at the front of the class watch her go. She doesn't look anywhere but forward as she leaves the classroom.
"She's gone. Do it."
"Can't, she took her bag."
"Alright. But don't forget."
You're alert. It's lunchtime.
Shit goes down way too often at lunchtime. Maybe it's some gang thing, like they try to get their kids out early by causing a fight or whatever. Maybe it's just when the assholes wake up and decide to take their shit out on the rest of you.
You don't dawdle or hurry. You walk… briskly. Yeah. Good word. Brisk, like the wind. Still not as good as flying.
There's a gaggle of well-dressed popular girls standing in front of a locker, slowing traffic. You briskly move to the far side of the corridor, then start to carefully edge your way forward, making sure to not get in anyone's face, not step on anyone's toes.
Right at the most perilous point, when you were almost halfway through, a hush fell.
"Tay~lor, you're slouching." Several nasty giggles. "You should put your back up against the lockers—" bang, one of the girls kicked a locker "—for better posture."
Someone must have pushed through the gaggle at that point, because a guy's elbow ended up bruising your small but very important and sensitive bosom. Conversation started up again, people started moving. He didn't even look at you, let alone apologize.
You follow him with your gaze as he and two friends trot away, talking a bit too loud. They look tall and fit. Jocks.
You stand in line in the cafeteria. A sour old lady wearing a surgical mask and a green plastic hair net scoops something brown onto your tray.
Three dollars, for this crap?
Fucking ripoff.
You pay anyway. As you put your wallet back in your pocket, you feel the coin in your other pocket. Still there, still safe. Good.
You find an empty table near the trash cans. You do some homework while eating. Twice your attention is drawn by one asshole or another shouting and posturing, but nobody starts enough trouble today to close the school down.
You finish your homework and your lunch in half the time you expected.
A little bored, you look around the cafeteria. Actually, it's strangely quiet. You scan the crowd. One gaggle, two gaggles… ah. The popular girls from your grade are nowhere to be seen.
You bus your tray and walk back to your homeroom.
There are footsteps in the hall ahead. Shuffle, scrape, jingle. You listen.
Julia: "It's not gonna get grody, right?"
Sophia: "Nah, they cleaned it out."
Emma: "Okay, Mads and Jules, go play lookout."
Madison: "Fine, fine."
From around the corner, you hear them whispering as they walk towards you.
[_] Stealth. Try to observe what they're doing.
[_] Diplomacy. You feel confident you can get them to let you in on their plan.
[_] Apathy. Why would you even want to get involved with their drama? Skip this school crap and let's get to something interesting already.
[_] Breath Weapon. Set the entire building on fire. (This permanently ends the Quest.)
[_] Write-In.
You are [x] A wilting wallflower at Winslow (age 15). "Oh-em-gee, did you hear what Emma did?"
Your home is [x] An orphanage, and you think of the other kids as your little brothers & sisters. The caretakers and workers are really nice, too.
It's dark when you awaken. The wind huffs outside, and a cold draft trips its way down your exposed arm and leg, rudely ignoring your worn flannel pajamas.
The cold wind of reality is depressingly not at all like the joyous rush of air you felt in your dream. The icy tendrils of winter down here on Earth are nothing like rarified atmosphere through which you soared, swiftly banking around thunderheads, lazily spiraling up a warm updraft.
You jerk your arm under the blanket, try to throw the blanket over your chilly leg, but the effort only draws the cold air into your covers, wrecking what remained of your warmth. Fuck. And your fingers killed. Double fuck.
You roll out of bed. Even though you had weird dreams, you feel pretty good this morning. Your body feels light as you walk to your dresser. But your hand really hurts.
Did something bite y— woah. Something glitters in your left hand.
You uncurl your left hand. You were holding onto something so hard, it cut into your palm. Your fingers were numb from gripping it. As you open your hand, and circulation resumes, the pins and needles start. Ouch. You recognize the pain, you feel it, but it doesn't matter. The glittery thing in your hand distracts your attention immediately.
It's beautiful: a perfect golden coin. In the pre-dawn darkness, you can barely see that it's etched with the majestic image of a true dragon. Even though you can barely see it, you're certain that it's much nicer looking than any stupid heraldry. Even the dark line of blood (your blood) crusted across the top edge of the quarter-sized coin can't ruin its golden purity.
The chilly wind gusts again, spilling across the uncarpeted floor and your uncomfortably bare feet, and you realize you've been standing in front of your dresser for like thirty seconds, just staring at the coin. Which is beautiful. But still, you should get moving.
You're awake early enough that you are certain to get a hot shower, maybe even a long hot shower if you're quiet about getting down to the stalls.
You put the coin do— no, no you do not put the coin down. It's precious, and it's yours, and you are keeping it right where you can fucking see it. You tiptoe to the drying rack by the radiator and pull your bath towel and washcloth off. On your way out of the bunk room, you look at the other kids: all asleep. Good. April isn't even crying in her sleep.
You quietly make your way downstairs. Very quietly. It's almost eerie, the stairs don't even creek. If you couldn't clearly hear the wind whistle outside and the big clock tick in the front room and the faucet drip in the kitchen, you'd worry about your hearing.
Half the fluorescent lights are always on downstairs. You take a second to look out the big window as you pass the front desk. The ground is still covered in snow, just as deep as yesterday. Why can't the stupid wind just blow it all away?
You head to the girl's bathroom. Your toiletries are right where you left them, in your cubby, in a little plastic mesh bag like everyone uses.
I bet some Quests only bother to put in images of plot-relevant things. Hah! Not this one.
You pull out your toiletry bag and hang it from your left wrist, replacing it with— fuck. You forgot to bring down a change of clothes. Whatever, you'll finish fast enough that you can dry your hair and use your towel to cover your body on the way back up. Or just wear your PJs. Yeah. You'll be fine.
Fine. You strip down, and put your pajamas in the cubby, and proceed to the showers. It takes a minute for the water to heat up enough, as usual. You pass the time brushing your teeth, and then examining your face very carefully for potential zits.
No zits today. Whew. You smear some face wash on, and to rinse it off, you cup your hands and— okay, right, the coin. You are very reluctant to let such a precious thing out of your grasp, but you need your hand. Squinting, trying not to let any soap get in your eye, you manage to put the coin in your toiletry bag, allowing you to rinse as normal.
Steam is starting to fog the top of the mirror just as you finish rinsing. Perfect. You carefully walk across the thick wooden planks and into the white tile stall, where hot water mercifully melts the chill from your body.
^.=.^
All clean.
You're not sure if it's okay to use the hot-air hand dryer to dry your hair, but the plug-in dryer broke last week, and there's no way you're going out there with wet hair. As the whine of the fan starts to wind down, you hit the big metal button to start it up again.
It's so nice to feel warm.
Satisfied that your hair wouldn't freeze solid, you let the hand dryer rattle to a stop. The jet-engine noise must have woke people up upstairs, or maybe the sun came out while you were down here, or maybe it was just time. You hear movement, thumps and clomps, and an occasional word. They'll be here soon.
You look at your left hand. The cut must not have been deep, it's stopped bleeding all on its own. You decide not to bandage it — any bandage would have to go all the way around, and that would just attract attention.
You remember the coin, and pull it out of your mesh bag. You put the bag back in your cubby. You pull on your pajamas, clasping the coin with your pinky and ring finger while your other fingers work buttons, lift pants.
You finish just as a couple of bleary younger girls enter the cubby-room.
"Goo' morning."
"Good morning!"
You make your way upstairs: your damp towels in one hand, your precious golden coin in the other.
^.=.^
Your coin is safely tucked into the front pocket of your jeans. These are your good jeans, and they're almost new, and there are no holes in the pockets. Your coin feels safe.
You make no particular effort to stay quiet as you get dressed. Most of your bunkmates have already gone down to shower or at least freshen up, but one kid remained fast asleep. Hmm.
You make some extra noise closing drawers, and stomp the floor a bit harder than necessary. Still no reaction. Yep, she's obviously faking it.
You poke April's cheek. Her eyes squint shut even tighter. She's such an obvious fake.
"Good moooooooorning, dimple face."
"Don't call me that!"
"Sorry. But they're ultra cute."
No answer.
"And it's time to get up."
"I'm awake." She shuts her eyes.
"Mmm, but you need to get up!" At the final word, you yank open her covers, exposing her to the bracing morning air.
"God damn it!"
"Language, April," the dorm mother's voice chides from the doorway.
"Sorry," April replies in a small voice.
"No, it's my fault. I was too rough," you intercede, giving April a kind look.
"Yeah! It's all Emily's fault!" April agrees, sitting up and pointing at you.
"I'll get you a treat tonight."
"Okay."
"As long as you've both calmed down. Chop chop, breakfast's almost ready." The dorm mother moves on, to check the other rooms.
You squat down, bringing your eyes level with April's own. "Are you okay?"
"It's nothing."
"Okay. If you want to talk…"
She doesn't answer, but she does crawl out of bed and, rubbing her eyes, make her way downstairs.
You pull your hair back into a pony tail and stretch a hair tie around it, twist and pull again, and done. Low-maintenance, you lamented, but at least it was still cute, in a plain and simple kind of way.
You put your wallet in your other front pocket, away from your coin. With the coin you put another two hair ties and your locker key. You hang your bus pass and rape whistle around your neck, and you're ready for breakfast.
Your thick wool socks make no noise as you pad out of your room and down the stairs.
Someone must already be watching TV. You hear a familiar commercial jingle, and a familiar announcer voice. "Clogged drain? Get it clear in no time! Use Clockblocker brand Drain-o."
You wonder how much he gets for these commercials. Must be nice.
You reach the front room, which is both the dorm's living room and the guest waiting area. In front of the TV are two boys. The older one is a few years younger than you. You must have been quiet: neither of them look over as you walk past the front desk.
The older boy is sitting cross-legged on the floor, closer to the TV than is advisable. The younger boy is wrapped up in one of the couch throw blankets. Maybe he's cold because he's still in his PJs.
The younger boy tries to rest his head on the older boy's leg. The older boy absently pushes away his head, which moves a little and then moves back. The older boy looks down and takes a moment to line up his finger, then flicks the younger boy's ear.
The younger boy flinches away, sobbing, and rolls to the other side, putting his head on the carpet instead. When the commercials end and the cartoon comes back on, you notice that he stops sobbing. Mostly.
You go into the kitchen and help with breakfast.
^.=.^
Almost a quarter of the class is late to first period, and four kids are absent.
"Eight inches of snow, and they won't even call a snow day."
"I know, right? The drive in was crazy."
"Dad was all like, back in my day…"
Julia and Madison apparently get driven to school by their parents. Must be nice.
Suddenly, there's a note of tension in the air. You look around, very careful to remain casual, normal, unnoticed.
It's Taylor, the victim girl. She stands up and hefts her heavy, full backpack onto one shoulder. The loud girls at the front of the class watch her go. She doesn't look anywhere but forward as she leaves the classroom.
"She's gone. Do it."
"Can't, she took her bag."
"Alright. But don't forget."
^.=.^
You're alert. It's lunchtime.
Shit goes down way too often at lunchtime. Maybe it's some gang thing, like they try to get their kids out early by causing a fight or whatever. Maybe it's just when the assholes wake up and decide to take their shit out on the rest of you.
You don't dawdle or hurry. You walk… briskly. Yeah. Good word. Brisk, like the wind. Still not as good as flying.
There's a gaggle of well-dressed popular girls standing in front of a locker, slowing traffic. You briskly move to the far side of the corridor, then start to carefully edge your way forward, making sure to not get in anyone's face, not step on anyone's toes.
Right at the most perilous point, when you were almost halfway through, a hush fell.
"Tay~lor, you're slouching." Several nasty giggles. "You should put your back up against the lockers—" bang, one of the girls kicked a locker "—for better posture."
Someone must have pushed through the gaggle at that point, because a guy's elbow ended up bruising your small but very important and sensitive bosom. Conversation started up again, people started moving. He didn't even look at you, let alone apologize.
You follow him with your gaze as he and two friends trot away, talking a bit too loud. They look tall and fit. Jocks.
^.=.^
You stand in line in the cafeteria. A sour old lady wearing a surgical mask and a green plastic hair net scoops something brown onto your tray.
Three dollars, for this crap?
Fucking ripoff.
You pay anyway. As you put your wallet back in your pocket, you feel the coin in your other pocket. Still there, still safe. Good.
You find an empty table near the trash cans. You do some homework while eating. Twice your attention is drawn by one asshole or another shouting and posturing, but nobody starts enough trouble today to close the school down.
You finish your homework and your lunch in half the time you expected.
A little bored, you look around the cafeteria. Actually, it's strangely quiet. You scan the crowd. One gaggle, two gaggles… ah. The popular girls from your grade are nowhere to be seen.
You bus your tray and walk back to your homeroom.
There are footsteps in the hall ahead. Shuffle, scrape, jingle. You listen.
Julia: "It's not gonna get grody, right?"
Sophia: "Nah, they cleaned it out."
Emma: "Okay, Mads and Jules, go play lookout."
Madison: "Fine, fine."
From around the corner, you hear them whispering as they walk towards you.
First Lunchtime
VOTING CLOSED
VOTING CLOSED
[_] Stealth. Try to observe what they're doing.
[_] Diplomacy. You feel confident you can get them to let you in on their plan.
[_] Apathy. Why would you even want to get involved with their drama? Skip this school crap and let's get to something interesting already.
[_] Breath Weapon. Set the entire building on fire. (This permanently ends the Quest.)
[_] Write-In.
Last edited:
Vote #2: Taking Action
evildice
(emotionally stable clown posse)
- Joined
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- 21,404
- Likes received
- 350,715
[X] 4 Stealth. Try to observe what they're doing.: (The Shadowmind, redaeth, LordPanther14, Drak4806)
You backtrack a few steps and duck into a classroom: luckily, it's empty. Now the girls heading towards the hallway corner won't see you, but you also can't see whatever the other two are doing.
If you could get into the adjoining classroom, then you could see, but the doors between classrooms are supposed to be locked. Click. Unfortunately, this door is locked. You don't think you can pick the lock.
Instead, you try to work around the lock. Your rape-whistle is dangling from a shoelace necklace, and it's sufficiently thin that you are able to quickly push it around the door's latch. Pulling carefully, you're able to get the latch to retract a bit, just like it would if the door were pushed closed. When the latch is partially retracted, you stick in your laminated bus pass to hold the latch in place as you pull the door open. Open Locks +1; rolled 19 = 20 vs. DC 10 lock
You enter another classroom, also empty. Looks like an English class, judging by the bulletin board.
The doors to this classroom have glass panes installed, but they've been mostly papered over, probably to reduce distractions. You peek peel back the corner of one sheet of paper and peek out into the hall way. You barely make out what must be one of their shadows. The girls are closer to the other door.
You quietly move to the other door, squat down, and peek through a crumpled corner of the paper and masking tape camouflage. Stealth +6; rolled 16 = 22 vs. Emma's Perception check (secret)
Emma is facing down the hallway in your general direction. Her body is blocking the view of whatever Sophia is doing behind her, presumably something to do with the locker behind her, which is presumably victim girl's locker. One weird thing you notice is that the locker isn't open. You keep watching.
Emma's cheeks are showing a bit of blush. She's excited. Her eyes are darting around. Maybe fear? Maybe something else.
Sophia pokes Emma's elbow, and Emma puts her hands behind her back. She's holding a purse in one hand, and a large wallet in the other. Sophia does something behind her, and then Emma drops her empty hands to her sides.
Sophia gives the locker a kick, and Emma skips a step at the sharp noise. Emma barks a surprised giggle. You detect a faint hysterical edge at first, but she covers it over quickly with either a real or a well-rehearsed laugh.
You catch only a glimpse of Sophia's face as they depart. Unlike Emma's brittle levity, Sophia's face displays a sharp, calculating awareness. She's crouched forward a bit, her head down. Her elbows are bent, but her arms don't swing as she walks. Not the body language you associate with track jocks like her. Sense Motive 4; rolled 13 = 17
The two of them leave your field of view, walking towards their friends, both empty-handed.
Something's fishy here.
Half an hour later, you sit in your seat at the front of the class, waiting for Mr. G's class to start. You're idly reading ahead, tuning out the mild chatter around you. Victim girl wasn't in this class, so the popular kids acted fairly normal. Benign, almost.
"Psst. Emma." Sophia gestured to the front of the classroom with her head, a hard look in her eyes. Maybe not so benign.
Emma nodded and approached Mr. G. "Sir, I wanted to ask if anyone's turned in a wallet."
"Not to me. And call me Mr. G, Emma." He smiled and nodded encouragingly.
"Anyway, Mr. G, I think my wallet might be lost or stolen."
"I'll go with you to lost & found after class."
"Thanks, Mr. G."
Events fell into place.
You decide to wait until class had started before making a move.
You stand suddenly, your chair clattering. You feign unsteadiness, wobbling a bit before steadying yourself with a hand on your desk.
"I'm sorry, Mr. G. I think I need to go to the nurse's office." You lower your voice conspiratorially, and look at him with a bit of pleading in your eye: "Girl thing." Bluff 12; rolled 10 = 22 vs. DC 11 (16 -5 circumstance penalty)
"Go ahead, Emily. You can drop off your homework after class."
You shoulder up your backpack and hurry out, putting your homework on his desk as you pass by. "Thanks, Mr. G."
[_] Get the wallets and purses out of Taylor's locker: enlist Taylor, she can open it. You'll have to get her out of class and convince her to work with you.
[_] Get the wallets and purses out of Taylor's locker: steal the janitor's master key. You'll have to pick his pocket. He sometimes smells like weed after lunch, so it might not be difficult.
[_] Get the wallets and purses out of Taylor's locker: start a fire out back and break the locker door after everyone evacuates. You'll have to use stealth to avoid teachers looking for stragglers.
[_] Get the wallets and purses out of Taylor's locker: other. (Write in.)
[_] You don't care about Taylor's locker. Lie to the nurse and get excused from school early. You have better things to do.
[_] You don't care about Taylor's locker. Lie to the nurse and take a nap in the nurse's office.
[_] You don't care about Taylor's locker: other. (Write in.)
You backtrack a few steps and duck into a classroom: luckily, it's empty. Now the girls heading towards the hallway corner won't see you, but you also can't see whatever the other two are doing.
If you could get into the adjoining classroom, then you could see, but the doors between classrooms are supposed to be locked. Click. Unfortunately, this door is locked. You don't think you can pick the lock.
Instead, you try to work around the lock. Your rape-whistle is dangling from a shoelace necklace, and it's sufficiently thin that you are able to quickly push it around the door's latch. Pulling carefully, you're able to get the latch to retract a bit, just like it would if the door were pushed closed. When the latch is partially retracted, you stick in your laminated bus pass to hold the latch in place as you pull the door open. Open Locks +1; rolled 19 = 20 vs. DC 10 lock
You enter another classroom, also empty. Looks like an English class, judging by the bulletin board.
The doors to this classroom have glass panes installed, but they've been mostly papered over, probably to reduce distractions. You peek peel back the corner of one sheet of paper and peek out into the hall way. You barely make out what must be one of their shadows. The girls are closer to the other door.
You quietly move to the other door, squat down, and peek through a crumpled corner of the paper and masking tape camouflage. Stealth +6; rolled 16 = 22 vs. Emma's Perception check (secret)
Emma is facing down the hallway in your general direction. Her body is blocking the view of whatever Sophia is doing behind her, presumably something to do with the locker behind her, which is presumably victim girl's locker. One weird thing you notice is that the locker isn't open. You keep watching.
Emma's cheeks are showing a bit of blush. She's excited. Her eyes are darting around. Maybe fear? Maybe something else.
Sophia pokes Emma's elbow, and Emma puts her hands behind her back. She's holding a purse in one hand, and a large wallet in the other. Sophia does something behind her, and then Emma drops her empty hands to her sides.
Sophia gives the locker a kick, and Emma skips a step at the sharp noise. Emma barks a surprised giggle. You detect a faint hysterical edge at first, but she covers it over quickly with either a real or a well-rehearsed laugh.
You catch only a glimpse of Sophia's face as they depart. Unlike Emma's brittle levity, Sophia's face displays a sharp, calculating awareness. She's crouched forward a bit, her head down. Her elbows are bent, but her arms don't swing as she walks. Not the body language you associate with track jocks like her. Sense Motive 4; rolled 13 = 17
The two of them leave your field of view, walking towards their friends, both empty-handed.
Something's fishy here.
☲ ☲ ☲
Half an hour later, you sit in your seat at the front of the class, waiting for Mr. G's class to start. You're idly reading ahead, tuning out the mild chatter around you. Victim girl wasn't in this class, so the popular kids acted fairly normal. Benign, almost.
"Psst. Emma." Sophia gestured to the front of the classroom with her head, a hard look in her eyes. Maybe not so benign.
Emma nodded and approached Mr. G. "Sir, I wanted to ask if anyone's turned in a wallet."
"Not to me. And call me Mr. G, Emma." He smiled and nodded encouragingly.
"Anyway, Mr. G, I think my wallet might be lost or stolen."
"I'll go with you to lost & found after class."
"Thanks, Mr. G."
Events fell into place.
☲ ☲ ☲
You decide to wait until class had started before making a move.
You stand suddenly, your chair clattering. You feign unsteadiness, wobbling a bit before steadying yourself with a hand on your desk.
"I'm sorry, Mr. G. I think I need to go to the nurse's office." You lower your voice conspiratorially, and look at him with a bit of pleading in your eye: "Girl thing." Bluff 12; rolled 10 = 22 vs. DC 11 (16 -5 circumstance penalty)
"Go ahead, Emily. You can drop off your homework after class."
You shoulder up your backpack and hurry out, putting your homework on his desk as you pass by. "Thanks, Mr. G."
First Lunch Part Two - What is your plan?
VOTING CLOSED
VOTING CLOSED
[_] Get the wallets and purses out of Taylor's locker: enlist Taylor, she can open it. You'll have to get her out of class and convince her to work with you.
[_] Get the wallets and purses out of Taylor's locker: steal the janitor's master key. You'll have to pick his pocket. He sometimes smells like weed after lunch, so it might not be difficult.
[_] Get the wallets and purses out of Taylor's locker: start a fire out back and break the locker door after everyone evacuates. You'll have to use stealth to avoid teachers looking for stragglers.
[_] Get the wallets and purses out of Taylor's locker: other. (Write in.)
[_] You don't care about Taylor's locker. Lie to the nurse and get excused from school early. You have better things to do.
[_] You don't care about Taylor's locker. Lie to the nurse and take a nap in the nurse's office.
[_] You don't care about Taylor's locker: other. (Write in.)
Last edited:
Day 1, End of School
evildice
(emotionally stable clown posse)
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Well, I lied. I actually fell asleep and then didn't find time to write until last night.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011 - Afternoon
You leave Mr. Gladly's class, shut the door behind you, and walk to the closest stairwell. Instead of going down to the nurse's office, you go up to the 3rd floor, then walk to the rear stairwell to get to the roof.
You glance in the classrooms along the way, and by chance, you happen to see Taylor: she's sitting at the desk nearest the door.
You think about her for a moment, and compare her to yourself. In some ways, she's the same as you: you're both social outsiders, you both wear plain clothes, you're both a little nerdy. But in many other ways, you're opposites: your wardrobe is plain but neat, crisp, and fits you well; hers looks baggy, wrinkled, and oversized. You wear light colors; she wears dark grays and browns. You always tie your hair back; hers spills out, always down.
Both of you seem to leave school pretty quickly once classes end, but in her case, she's probably running away. You are usually hurrying home — well, back to the orphanage, which is home enough. Most days you have to pick up some of the younger kids on your way back, and then you have to help out with chores, entertaining the younger ones, homework, and dinner.
You're busy with your own responsibilities. It's not fair that you're the only one who cares about thwarting the injustice which is blatantly playing out among the girls in your grade.
But that's the way the world is. It's not fair, and if you want justice, you have to make it with your own claws. Er, hands. Which you're doing right now, right here in the 3rd floor girl's bathroom.
You begin your quest to make justice with your own hands by wrecking one of the toilets.
You jerk the flush handles back and forth until one of them jams. Something inside snaps, and water is flowing continuously. Then, you take two rolls of toilet paper and wedge them into the toilet's chute with a mop handle. The toilet bowl begins to fill with water, which will spill out onto the floor. Now you have an excuse to talk to the janitor. Disable Device +6; rolled 12 = 18 vs. DC 15
You reach the rear stairwell and ascend to the roof. The door is equipped with an alarm, presumably to prevent students from casually using the roof to smoke — but the alarm is only attached to an unused lock bolt, presumably because a functioning door alarm would have prevented teachers and staff from casually using the roof to smoke. Just press the door literally anywhere other than the alarm bar, and it opens without triggering an alarm.
Warm air rushes out as you open the door and step onto the snowy roof. Gray sky above, damp snow below, the black tar of the roof showing through like tarnish on a silver mirror. The trampled-down snow around the door shows the area where staff and students usually stand, but none of them are here now. Maybe the delinquents leave school entirely after lunch. Maybe it's too cold.
Frustrated, you sigh out a cloud of steam, and warm wispy flames lick the base of the cloud. Fuck. You look around guiltily, but see nobody. Whew.
You walk to the corner of the snowy roof. There are a couple hidden slippery patches of ice, but your balance is good and you don't fall. From this vantage, you can see behind the 10-foot high walls of snow where the plow pushed nature's most recent act of spite. You see a couple of students smoking.
You walk to another corner. You can't see into the alley behind the gym, but you can see occasional puffs of smoke rising from it. That's probably the janitor. Mr. Ross? Is that his name? You think so. Int check +2 rolled 3 = 5 vs. DC 10; his name is actually Ross Riviera.
A shiver runs through you. Right, you didn't wear your coat, because you're just supposed to be going to the nurse's office.
You go back inside and pull the door shut behind you. You rub your cheeks: your fingers feel cold, and slightly stiff. You can't afford stiff fingers. You run down the stairs in an effort to warm up before you head back outside.
Running down the stairs didn't warm you up much. You'll just have to be quick. You push open the back stairway's yard exit and hurry outside, then pull up short as you almost collide with a couple of guys. They're the students you saw from the roof, a taller skinny guy wearing a green wool cap, and a broader more solid guy wearing a puffy orange hunting vest. They're untidy, but they smell pleasantly of smoke.
"What there," the taller one says, "What's the rush?"
You take a step sideways, out of the doorway. "Nothing. Go ahead."
"Haven't seen you out in the yard before."
Well duh, you're not a smoker. You don't answer, you just want them to go away.
After a second or two of silence, he turns away. "See you around."
You start to walk quickly towards the back alley where you hope to find the janitor. When you hear the doors click shut behind you, you glance over your shoulder, and you're a bit relieved that you don't see the guys.
Not that you were worried or anything.
You could take them.
As distracted as you were, you don't even need to fake being clumsy as you bump into the janitor turning the corner. You bounce off him and fall backwards, catching yourself on your hands before your pants and shirt can get wet.
"Ow," you sputter, "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you."
"I ain't hurt, little lady," he replies, offering his hand, "Here."
"Thanks, Mr. Ross." His calloused hand is warm.
"Ross is my name, but you oughta call me Mr. Rivera."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rivera, I'm bad with names," you say, mentally kicking yourself. "I was actually out here looking for you. There's a leak in the upstairs bathroom, one of the toilets." As he helps you up, you slip on the frozen ground, and take a chance on nabbing his keychain. He doesn't seem to notice. Sleight of Hand +5; rolled 18 = 23 vs. DC 14 perception / DC 20 lift a small object
You make a show of brushing snow off your backpack and slip the key ring into a side pocket.
"Alright, I'll take a look." He sighs. "I was goin' inside anyway."
"Thanks, Mr. Rivera."
You go inside with him. He leaves you at the stairs, plodding up one slow step after the other. You wonder if he has arthritis or bronchitis or if walking slow is just his personality.
Ow, your hands hurt. You look at them. Some abrasions, plus cold water. You resist wiping them off on your jeans, and head to the first floor bathroom instead.
You pass the door to the gym. You hear the thunder of twenty basketballs bouncing. You're glad you don't have gym today: dribbling with raw hands would suck.
You reach the bathroom and warm up your hands under the hot water, then dab yourself dry with the paper towels. You look yourself over in the mirror, and realize you're procrastinating.
Alright. Enough dawdling. Time to commit theft in order to prevent injustice.
You sling your backpack under your arm, with the top unzipped and facing front. You'll want to get whatever's in the locker out of sight as quickly as possible.
You quietly walk to the lockers. Surprisingly, you encounter resistance: the campus security guard, Mike something, is walking the halls. You detour through the second floor to avoid him. When you come down at the other end of the hall, he's gone. Stealth 5 + rolled 9 = 14 vs. DC 10
You look from one end of the hall to the other. Nobody. Great.
Forcing yourself to look casual, you walk to Taylor's locker. You remember the general area from the incident in January, and from this morning, and once you're in the right area, it's easy to identify her locker by the dents and graffiti.
There are twenty keys on the chain. Three of them are around the right size for a locker. You try one at random; nope. The second one fits and the door opens. There on the floor of the locker are two nice handbags and two wallets, all in good condition. They obviously weren't shoved through the air vents.
Weird.
You crouch down and stuff them one after another into your backpack.
You stand, and are dizzy for a moment. Headrush. You try to close the door quietly, but it clatters and doesn't latch. Your hands are trembling. Fuck. You take a deep breath and try again; this time, you manage to shut the locker door without much noise. Stealth +5; rolled 1 = 6 vs. DC not telling
Perception +4; rolled 12 = 16 vs. DC not telling
You hurry away, toward the nurse's office. That was way more nerve-wracking than you'd expected.
The nurse is in, talking to someone on her cellphone. She asks the person on the other end to hold on, and looks at you impatiently. You tell her you're having bad cramps, and you slipped on the stairs. You show her your hands. She tells you you'll be fine, gives you an ibuprofen tablet and a fast-food ketchup bag of topical antiseptic to apply. She waves you towards the cots and resumes her conversation.
Your hands are sticky from the antiseptic, which is strongly colored, and claims to have iodine in it. You decide not to mess with the contents of your backpack while your hands are like this.
You lie back on the infirmary cot nearest the window and stare out, up at the dull gray sky. You force yourself to breathe slowly, to calm down.
Your eyelids feel heavy. You woke up pretty early this morning.
You watch the clock and try not to nap.
You wake up with a jerk and your eyes jump to the clock. Quarter past two. Barely ten minutes before the bell announces the end of class. Fuck. You have to deal with the contents of your backpack.
You get up, wipe your hands clean, and thank the nurse, who is still on the phone. She scribbles on an infirmary slip and hands it to you: she's written CRAMPS in large red letters, along with 3rd period and date. Well that's mortifying, but at least it's a solid alibi.
You fold the slip in half and stick it in your jeans pocket. You'll give it to Mr. Gladly later.
You enter a school bathroom for the third time today, pick the second to last stall, sit down, and get to work.
In all, they have $170 in cash. You're surprised at the amount. You put $20 in your pocket, and stuff the rest inside your thick wool socks, around your ankles.
Each of them has a credit card, though you suspect some are just prepaid or debit cards. You've never had one yourself, so you don't know much about them. Into the toilet they go.
Business cards, receipts, a bus pass: into the toilet.
Two health insurance cards. You hesitate for only a moment. Plop, plot.
Sophia's wallet has some kind of weird electronic card with some buttons, a finger-sized square on it and a small LCD panel. Maybe some kind of high-tech kidnaping tracking device? Or is it even more advanced — could it be Tinkertech? Was that how they got the "stolen" goods into the locker? Weird to think of someone using Tinkertech for pranks, but if you had a Tinker friend, surely you'd find some practical uses for her gifts. Anyway, whatever it is, it is not something you want to keep with you. Into the toilet.
Julia's bag has her cellphone. It's one of the midrange clamshell models. You pop out the battery and drop it into the toilet. Plop. You feel a little bad: cellphones are expensive.
You toss the smaller makeup items into the toilet, but you pause at an eyeliner kit with a mirror, and snap off the mirror half of the case. That looks useful for checking around corners.
The phone and everything that's too big to get flushed, including the wallets and handbags themselves, go in the dirty hand towel bin.
You're just finishing up when you hear the bell for class, and not ten seconds later the door flies open. Search +3; rolled 9 = 12 vs. DC 10
You pretend to do your business in a stall, and leave with the crowd.
It's 4:00 PM. Everybody wants to leave. Why aren't you being allowed to leave?
The hall is full, students shuffle forward slowly. You can barely make out the teachers at the other end.
"… chosen at random … please remain … next!"
A few people push past, but the crowd seems remarkably patient. You look around, thinking about who's here, who's not. Ah. The stoners and smokers must have gone out the side or back doors. The jocks have practice after school, and aren't here. So it's just the regular kids, the people like you.
You think about emulating the bad kids and heading for a side door, but when you glance back, there's something wrong. Something in the shadows moves. Your instincts warn you that there's someone hiding, but you can't see who or where exactly without looking way too obvious about it. Perception +5; rolled 9 = 14 vs. DC not telling
It takes a thief to catch a thief, maybe? You wonder if you're not the only unusually skilled person in the school. Something to keep in mind if you ever need to move around the school covertly again.
You hear Mr. Spenser's voice boom over the muttering of the crowd. "This is taking too long." Gym teacher: big guy, big voice.
"I have an idea," Emma says in the ensuing pause. "I'll call Julia's phone. If anyone hears a ring, that's the culprit."
It's kind of pretentious how she talks like she's a lawyer, but you guess that's just her mask.
"Alright. Everyone quiet. We'll try this once." The campus rent-a-cop sounds tired.
Emma holds the phone up triumphantly. For a couple of seconds, it's actually quiet enough to barely hear her the ringing from her ear speaker. There is no corresponding ring, of course, and you alone know why.
After that, the line starts to move a bit quicker. They must be letting more kids by with less scrutiny. Fine by me.
You get close to the exit. It looks like they have some of the long folding tables set up, and they've roped a few of the teachers into acting as impromptu security guards, for some reason. Mr. Spenser is bodily blocking the exit, looking each student over and deciding if they can go or if their bags will get searched. He nods at you and gestures at the door with his head. You nod back in thanks, and leave.
At last. That's fifteen minutes of your life which you won't get back. Oh well, mission accomplished at least, and now you've got a couple of hours to get something done.
Mission Accomplished: 300 xp
+ Theft of significant value: 100 xp
+ Punishment of injustice: 100 xp
Choose ONE or TWO of the following:
[_] Finances: Find a place to sell your gold coin.
[_] Shopping: A prepaid cell phone.
[_] Shopping: Sporting Goods: compound bow, some arrows, a hunting knife.
[_] Shopping: Self-Defense: metal baton, pepper spray.
[_] Shopping: Other (write in).
[_] Investigation: Take the bus to the PRT and ask about the Wards program.
[_] Investigation: Taylor probably left around the same time you did. Follow her home like a stalker with a crush.
[_] Investigation: Go to the library and research cape stuff. (Or research other stuff: write in.)
[_] Socialize: Track down Taylor and talk to her about the events of the day. Try to find out why she became "victim girl".
[_] Socialize: "Hey Julia, hey Madison. They said you got robbed? That sucks! What happened?"
[_] Territory: Walk around the Chapel Hill Orphanage neighborhood, saying hi to the shopkeepers, and look for signs of gang activity. Help locals if you can.
[_] Training: Yuu can probably help you find someone to train you in the skill you want: martial arts / firearms / driving a car / first aid / (or write in which skill).
[_] Larceny: Yuu can probably help you find a shady locksmith who will copy some of the janitor's keys, which are still in your pocket. This will cost a bunch, but you can probably afford it.
[_] Have A Party: It's your birthday! You don't care much, because you're 16 now and totally way too mature for that stuff, but the kids love cake and parties so you do your best to act un-embarrassed. (Note: If this option loses, then today is not your birthday.)
Choose ONE of the following:
[_] Subdermal Armor: Your level 2 scales are subtle, but all over. People who see your body from far away might not notice, but anyone looking at your hands or feet closely will see that there is something unusual about your mostly-human skin.
[_] Draconic Stigmata: Your level 2 scales are obvious, but localized. People who see your knees, elbows, belly or the back of your neck will immediately notice your inhuman skin. A long-sleeved shirt will cover you fine.
[_] Mask of Scales: Your level 2 scales are very obvious, but you can make them disappear at will. Your scales cover and distort your face, hands, neck, etc., but you can make them disappear with a Standard action. Hiding your scales also deprives you of their AC benefit. REQUIREMENT: It turns out this is just a very limited application of the Lesser invocation Humanoid Shape. You are required to take that Invocation as soon as it is available, and never trade it out.
☲ ☲ ☲
Tuesday, March 1, 2011 - Afternoon
You leave Mr. Gladly's class, shut the door behind you, and walk to the closest stairwell. Instead of going down to the nurse's office, you go up to the 3rd floor, then walk to the rear stairwell to get to the roof.
You glance in the classrooms along the way, and by chance, you happen to see Taylor: she's sitting at the desk nearest the door.
You think about her for a moment, and compare her to yourself. In some ways, she's the same as you: you're both social outsiders, you both wear plain clothes, you're both a little nerdy. But in many other ways, you're opposites: your wardrobe is plain but neat, crisp, and fits you well; hers looks baggy, wrinkled, and oversized. You wear light colors; she wears dark grays and browns. You always tie your hair back; hers spills out, always down.
Both of you seem to leave school pretty quickly once classes end, but in her case, she's probably running away. You are usually hurrying home — well, back to the orphanage, which is home enough. Most days you have to pick up some of the younger kids on your way back, and then you have to help out with chores, entertaining the younger ones, homework, and dinner.
You're busy with your own responsibilities. It's not fair that you're the only one who cares about thwarting the injustice which is blatantly playing out among the girls in your grade.
But that's the way the world is. It's not fair, and if you want justice, you have to make it with your own claws. Er, hands. Which you're doing right now, right here in the 3rd floor girl's bathroom.
You begin your quest to make justice with your own hands by wrecking one of the toilets.
You jerk the flush handles back and forth until one of them jams. Something inside snaps, and water is flowing continuously. Then, you take two rolls of toilet paper and wedge them into the toilet's chute with a mop handle. The toilet bowl begins to fill with water, which will spill out onto the floor. Now you have an excuse to talk to the janitor. Disable Device +6; rolled 12 = 18 vs. DC 15
You reach the rear stairwell and ascend to the roof. The door is equipped with an alarm, presumably to prevent students from casually using the roof to smoke — but the alarm is only attached to an unused lock bolt, presumably because a functioning door alarm would have prevented teachers and staff from casually using the roof to smoke. Just press the door literally anywhere other than the alarm bar, and it opens without triggering an alarm.
Warm air rushes out as you open the door and step onto the snowy roof. Gray sky above, damp snow below, the black tar of the roof showing through like tarnish on a silver mirror. The trampled-down snow around the door shows the area where staff and students usually stand, but none of them are here now. Maybe the delinquents leave school entirely after lunch. Maybe it's too cold.
Frustrated, you sigh out a cloud of steam, and warm wispy flames lick the base of the cloud. Fuck. You look around guiltily, but see nobody. Whew.
You walk to the corner of the snowy roof. There are a couple hidden slippery patches of ice, but your balance is good and you don't fall. From this vantage, you can see behind the 10-foot high walls of snow where the plow pushed nature's most recent act of spite. You see a couple of students smoking.
You walk to another corner. You can't see into the alley behind the gym, but you can see occasional puffs of smoke rising from it. That's probably the janitor. Mr. Ross? Is that his name? You think so. Int check +2 rolled 3 = 5 vs. DC 10; his name is actually Ross Riviera.
A shiver runs through you. Right, you didn't wear your coat, because you're just supposed to be going to the nurse's office.
You go back inside and pull the door shut behind you. You rub your cheeks: your fingers feel cold, and slightly stiff. You can't afford stiff fingers. You run down the stairs in an effort to warm up before you head back outside.
☲ ☲ ☲
Running down the stairs didn't warm you up much. You'll just have to be quick. You push open the back stairway's yard exit and hurry outside, then pull up short as you almost collide with a couple of guys. They're the students you saw from the roof, a taller skinny guy wearing a green wool cap, and a broader more solid guy wearing a puffy orange hunting vest. They're untidy, but they smell pleasantly of smoke.
"What there," the taller one says, "What's the rush?"
You take a step sideways, out of the doorway. "Nothing. Go ahead."
"Haven't seen you out in the yard before."
Well duh, you're not a smoker. You don't answer, you just want them to go away.
After a second or two of silence, he turns away. "See you around."
You start to walk quickly towards the back alley where you hope to find the janitor. When you hear the doors click shut behind you, you glance over your shoulder, and you're a bit relieved that you don't see the guys.
Not that you were worried or anything.
You could take them.
As distracted as you were, you don't even need to fake being clumsy as you bump into the janitor turning the corner. You bounce off him and fall backwards, catching yourself on your hands before your pants and shirt can get wet.
"Ow," you sputter, "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you."
"I ain't hurt, little lady," he replies, offering his hand, "Here."
"Thanks, Mr. Ross." His calloused hand is warm.
"Ross is my name, but you oughta call me Mr. Rivera."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rivera, I'm bad with names," you say, mentally kicking yourself. "I was actually out here looking for you. There's a leak in the upstairs bathroom, one of the toilets." As he helps you up, you slip on the frozen ground, and take a chance on nabbing his keychain. He doesn't seem to notice. Sleight of Hand +5; rolled 18 = 23 vs. DC 14 perception / DC 20 lift a small object
You make a show of brushing snow off your backpack and slip the key ring into a side pocket.
"Alright, I'll take a look." He sighs. "I was goin' inside anyway."
"Thanks, Mr. Rivera."
You go inside with him. He leaves you at the stairs, plodding up one slow step after the other. You wonder if he has arthritis or bronchitis or if walking slow is just his personality.
Ow, your hands hurt. You look at them. Some abrasions, plus cold water. You resist wiping them off on your jeans, and head to the first floor bathroom instead.
You pass the door to the gym. You hear the thunder of twenty basketballs bouncing. You're glad you don't have gym today: dribbling with raw hands would suck.
You reach the bathroom and warm up your hands under the hot water, then dab yourself dry with the paper towels. You look yourself over in the mirror, and realize you're procrastinating.
Alright. Enough dawdling. Time to commit theft in order to prevent injustice.
You sling your backpack under your arm, with the top unzipped and facing front. You'll want to get whatever's in the locker out of sight as quickly as possible.
You quietly walk to the lockers. Surprisingly, you encounter resistance: the campus security guard, Mike something, is walking the halls. You detour through the second floor to avoid him. When you come down at the other end of the hall, he's gone. Stealth 5 + rolled 9 = 14 vs. DC 10
You look from one end of the hall to the other. Nobody. Great.
Forcing yourself to look casual, you walk to Taylor's locker. You remember the general area from the incident in January, and from this morning, and once you're in the right area, it's easy to identify her locker by the dents and graffiti.
There are twenty keys on the chain. Three of them are around the right size for a locker. You try one at random; nope. The second one fits and the door opens. There on the floor of the locker are two nice handbags and two wallets, all in good condition. They obviously weren't shoved through the air vents.
Weird.
You crouch down and stuff them one after another into your backpack.
You stand, and are dizzy for a moment. Headrush. You try to close the door quietly, but it clatters and doesn't latch. Your hands are trembling. Fuck. You take a deep breath and try again; this time, you manage to shut the locker door without much noise. Stealth +5; rolled 1 = 6 vs. DC not telling
Perception +4; rolled 12 = 16 vs. DC not telling
You hurry away, toward the nurse's office. That was way more nerve-wracking than you'd expected.
The nurse is in, talking to someone on her cellphone. She asks the person on the other end to hold on, and looks at you impatiently. You tell her you're having bad cramps, and you slipped on the stairs. You show her your hands. She tells you you'll be fine, gives you an ibuprofen tablet and a fast-food ketchup bag of topical antiseptic to apply. She waves you towards the cots and resumes her conversation.
☲ ☲ ☲
Your hands are sticky from the antiseptic, which is strongly colored, and claims to have iodine in it. You decide not to mess with the contents of your backpack while your hands are like this.
You lie back on the infirmary cot nearest the window and stare out, up at the dull gray sky. You force yourself to breathe slowly, to calm down.
Your eyelids feel heavy. You woke up pretty early this morning.
You watch the clock and try not to nap.
☲ ☲ ☲
You wake up with a jerk and your eyes jump to the clock. Quarter past two. Barely ten minutes before the bell announces the end of class. Fuck. You have to deal with the contents of your backpack.
You get up, wipe your hands clean, and thank the nurse, who is still on the phone. She scribbles on an infirmary slip and hands it to you: she's written CRAMPS in large red letters, along with 3rd period and date. Well that's mortifying, but at least it's a solid alibi.
You fold the slip in half and stick it in your jeans pocket. You'll give it to Mr. Gladly later.
You enter a school bathroom for the third time today, pick the second to last stall, sit down, and get to work.
In all, they have $170 in cash. You're surprised at the amount. You put $20 in your pocket, and stuff the rest inside your thick wool socks, around your ankles.
Each of them has a credit card, though you suspect some are just prepaid or debit cards. You've never had one yourself, so you don't know much about them. Into the toilet they go.
Business cards, receipts, a bus pass: into the toilet.
Two health insurance cards. You hesitate for only a moment. Plop, plot.
Sophia's wallet has some kind of weird electronic card with some buttons, a finger-sized square on it and a small LCD panel. Maybe some kind of high-tech kidnaping tracking device? Or is it even more advanced — could it be Tinkertech? Was that how they got the "stolen" goods into the locker? Weird to think of someone using Tinkertech for pranks, but if you had a Tinker friend, surely you'd find some practical uses for her gifts. Anyway, whatever it is, it is not something you want to keep with you. Into the toilet.
Julia's bag has her cellphone. It's one of the midrange clamshell models. You pop out the battery and drop it into the toilet. Plop. You feel a little bad: cellphones are expensive.
You toss the smaller makeup items into the toilet, but you pause at an eyeliner kit with a mirror, and snap off the mirror half of the case. That looks useful for checking around corners.
The phone and everything that's too big to get flushed, including the wallets and handbags themselves, go in the dirty hand towel bin.
You're just finishing up when you hear the bell for class, and not ten seconds later the door flies open. Search +3; rolled 9 = 12 vs. DC 10
You pretend to do your business in a stall, and leave with the crowd.
☲ ☲ ☲
It's 4:00 PM. Everybody wants to leave. Why aren't you being allowed to leave?
The hall is full, students shuffle forward slowly. You can barely make out the teachers at the other end.
"… chosen at random … please remain … next!"
A few people push past, but the crowd seems remarkably patient. You look around, thinking about who's here, who's not. Ah. The stoners and smokers must have gone out the side or back doors. The jocks have practice after school, and aren't here. So it's just the regular kids, the people like you.
You think about emulating the bad kids and heading for a side door, but when you glance back, there's something wrong. Something in the shadows moves. Your instincts warn you that there's someone hiding, but you can't see who or where exactly without looking way too obvious about it. Perception +5; rolled 9 = 14 vs. DC not telling
It takes a thief to catch a thief, maybe? You wonder if you're not the only unusually skilled person in the school. Something to keep in mind if you ever need to move around the school covertly again.
You hear Mr. Spenser's voice boom over the muttering of the crowd. "This is taking too long." Gym teacher: big guy, big voice.
"I have an idea," Emma says in the ensuing pause. "I'll call Julia's phone. If anyone hears a ring, that's the culprit."
It's kind of pretentious how she talks like she's a lawyer, but you guess that's just her mask.
"Alright. Everyone quiet. We'll try this once." The campus rent-a-cop sounds tired.
Emma holds the phone up triumphantly. For a couple of seconds, it's actually quiet enough to barely hear her the ringing from her ear speaker. There is no corresponding ring, of course, and you alone know why.
After that, the line starts to move a bit quicker. They must be letting more kids by with less scrutiny. Fine by me.
You get close to the exit. It looks like they have some of the long folding tables set up, and they've roped a few of the teachers into acting as impromptu security guards, for some reason. Mr. Spenser is bodily blocking the exit, looking each student over and deciding if they can go or if their bags will get searched. He nods at you and gestures at the door with his head. You nod back in thanks, and leave.
At last. That's fifteen minutes of your life which you won't get back. Oh well, mission accomplished at least, and now you've got a couple of hours to get something done.
☲ ☲ ☲
Mission Accomplished: 300 xp
+ Theft of significant value: 100 xp
+ Punishment of injustice: 100 xp
After School Activities, Day 1
Vote CLOSED
Vote CLOSED
Choose ONE or TWO of the following:
[_] Finances: Find a place to sell your gold coin.
[_] Shopping: A prepaid cell phone.
[_] Shopping: Sporting Goods: compound bow, some arrows, a hunting knife.
[_] Shopping: Self-Defense: metal baton, pepper spray.
[_] Shopping: Other (write in).
[_] Investigation: Take the bus to the PRT and ask about the Wards program.
[_] Investigation: Taylor probably left around the same time you did. Follow her home like a stalker with a crush.
[_] Investigation: Go to the library and research cape stuff. (Or research other stuff: write in.)
[_] Socialize: Track down Taylor and talk to her about the events of the day. Try to find out why she became "victim girl".
[_] Socialize: "Hey Julia, hey Madison. They said you got robbed? That sucks! What happened?"
[_] Territory: Walk around the Chapel Hill Orphanage neighborhood, saying hi to the shopkeepers, and look for signs of gang activity. Help locals if you can.
[_] Training: Yuu can probably help you find someone to train you in the skill you want: martial arts / firearms / driving a car / first aid / (or write in which skill).
[_] Larceny: Yuu can probably help you find a shady locksmith who will copy some of the janitor's keys, which are still in your pocket. This will cost a bunch, but you can probably afford it.
[_] Have A Party: It's your birthday! You don't care much, because you're 16 now and totally way too mature for that stuff, but the kids love cake and parties so you do your best to act un-embarrassed. (Note: If this option loses, then today is not your birthday.)
Draconic Aesthetic
Vote CLOSED
Vote CLOSED
Choose ONE of the following:
[_] Subdermal Armor: Your level 2 scales are subtle, but all over. People who see your body from far away might not notice, but anyone looking at your hands or feet closely will see that there is something unusual about your mostly-human skin.
[_] Draconic Stigmata: Your level 2 scales are obvious, but localized. People who see your knees, elbows, belly or the back of your neck will immediately notice your inhuman skin. A long-sleeved shirt will cover you fine.
[_] Mask of Scales: Your level 2 scales are very obvious, but you can make them disappear at will. Your scales cover and distort your face, hands, neck, etc., but you can make them disappear with a Standard action. Hiding your scales also deprives you of their AC benefit. REQUIREMENT: It turns out this is just a very limited application of the Lesser invocation Humanoid Shape. You are required to take that Invocation as soon as it is available, and never trade it out.
Last edited:
1.1 - Evening at Home
evildice
(emotionally stable clown posse)
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2015
- Messages
- 21,404
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- 350,715
[X] 7 Territory: Walk around the Chapel Hill Orphanage neighborhood, saying hi to the shopkeepers, and look for signs of gang activity. Help locals if you can.: (Xilph, john doe, Piell, Karnven, Sheaman3773, Jack of Olives, 1986ctcel)
[X] 4 Larceny: Yuu can probably help you find a shady locksmith who will copy some of the janitor's keys, which are still in your pocket. This will cost a bunch, but you can probably afford it.: (john doe, Sheaman3773, 1986ctcel, Karnven)
[X] 8 Mask of Scales: Your level 2 scales are very obvious, but you can make them disappear at will. Your scales cover and distort your face, hands, neck, etc., but you can make them disappear with a Standard action. Hiding your scales also deprives you of their AC benefit. REQUIREMENT: It turns out this is just a very limited application of the Lesser invocation Humanoid Shape. You are required to take that Invocation as soon as it is available, and never trade it out.: (Xilph, john doe, Piell, Karnven, Sheaman3773, Jack of Olives, 1986ctcel, Guile) (Locked in, will happen as soon as we hit 2nd level.)
Tuesday, March 1, 2011 - Evening
You sit on the bus as it travels north. It's only about a fifteen minute ride from school to home. The sun is low in the sky, and the skyscrapers of the west side throw long shadows across the river. Up north where you live is pretty nice, but not as nice as the west side's downtown.
You feel good about your activities today. You saw an injustice, and you punished the perpetrators.
On the other hand, it was a lot of effort, and you didn't actually solve any of the underlying issues. But you did get a bunch of cash. Taking the material wealth of evildoers somehow feels very right.
Taking the keys of the janitor, though, does not feel particularly right. You're going to have to return them. Maybe leave them in the Lost & Found, or drop them outside in the snow near where you bumped into him, or something. You feel slightly bad about taking them home with you. That was unnecessary, you should have planned ahead better.
Oh well. As long as you have the keys, you might as well put them to good use.
The bus pulls up to your stop, and you get off.
You walk up the familiar hill. Home, sweet home.
"You're sure?" you ask Yuu, prodding him.
"Yeah. Yeah! I got this."
You smile sweetly at Yuu. "Thanks, Yuu. You're a champ."
"You know it! Aight, I'm out." Yuu gives a dramatic salute and jumps out the door.
He's such a kid sometimes. But still, that went well. He said the duplicate keys will only cost you $80, but you know he's notorious for underestimating costs, so you gave him $120 just in case. That still leaves you $50 ahead.
It's 4:45. You have about an hour of daylight left, if you count all the time that the sky is not totally dark as "daylight".
You drop your backpack off in your room, and move your remaining cash from your sock into your pocket.
You feel ready. You set out for a walk around the neighborhood.
Woah, $7 for a large pizza. You can't even get a small pizza for that. No wonder they went out of business. I am 15 and what is inflation?
Other than Blank-o Pizza, your own very clever name for the signless and overgrown pizza joint, there aren't many empty storefronts in this part of town. The interstate off-ramps give a lot of valuable traffic, and the Walmart's always busy so that probably helps too.
There's not much to the north, just a Dunkin Donuts and the Town House Diner.
You turn away from the abandoned pizza shop and walk south, towards the larger mall, which sits right next to the interchange.
Walmart is more depressing than you remember. The employees are tired and unfit, and their smiles are fake. You decide not to buy their cupcakes. Maybe you could buy a mask here? Or sportswear? It's pretty low quality stuff, though.
You leave Walmart.
You look longingly at the Five Guys burger place across the highway. It's nice to sit at their outside tables, even though it's next to a major road, because of the flower shop next d— oh, the flower shop looks closed, empty. That's distressing. You don't like the idea of empty storefronts. That's what the south end is like, what Winslow is like. You don't want your neighborhood to be like that.
You turn around and walk into Super Stop & Shop. You're very familiar with this store, since it's the nearest supermarket and it's where they send you when you help with the shopping. Your idea of helping out the shopkeepers doesn't seem to fit very well with modern commerce.
As you pass through aisles of packaged food, you wonder briefly where your idea of helping out shopkeepers came from. It seems… quaint. Anachronistic. Like you're expecting a nice thatched roof bakery with an old lady behind the counter, but what you get instead is this strip-mall. It's nonsense.
Yes, it's nonsense: but you can't decide if you mean that your expectations were nonsense, or if the reality you live in is nonsense.
You leave the supermarket and enter the department store, Kohl's. You look longingly over the outdoors equipment: 200 ft. of synthetic rope, several kinds of multi-tool, a set of pitons and an ice-axe… all tagged with anti-theft devices. You ponder stealing something, but the store is very close to home, and you'd risk recognition if anything went wrong. You really don't want anyone at the orphanage to think of you as a criminal. Unfortunately, you'll just have to find a way to get more money, or you'll have to find another place from which to steal outdoors gear.
You leave the large department store and walk towards home, past the row of smaller stores: Bell Atlantic Cell, Tricare Veteran something, Payless Shoes, another empty storefront, New York Family Pizza, Sally Beauty Supply and the attached nails place, the very useful Dollar Tree, the discount clothing store Fashion Bug (still not as cheap as the Salvation Army), a mattress store, a liquor store, and finally a video arcade slash DVD rental store called Hollywood Entertainment.
Instead of walking along Route 12, you take the partially hidden cement stairs to Carter Rd., which is basically a glorified driveway for some average little houses. You give them sidelong glances across their snow-covered lawns as you pass, the light spilling from one window making an elongated box on the snow, like a demented cinema projector. A shadow moves across the light-box — someone's there — and your heart rate jumps, but it's just someone inside the house. The house with two cars and a snowman outside. The house where a family lives.
You shove aside the pang of jealousy and make your way back to your own family, a block and a half away.
"Hello Emily!" Little Alice ambushes you upon your return. "Did you get powers today?"
"Yes, of course," you reply, dropping into a combat crouch and gamboling towards her with your hands extended menacingly. "Today I got a Striker power to tickle you."
"That's not a real pow— ah! Eeek! Aha ha ha!"
You gleefully menace Alice and the other smaller children until the dinner bell.
Yuu lets himself in and sits down about halfway through dinner, which is otherwise uneventful.
After dinner, Yuu wanted to have a quiet chat with you.
Yuu: "Hey, listen."
Emily: "What's up?"
Yuu: "My key guy. He wants to meet you."
Emily: "Yuu…"
Yuu: "I didn't tell him anything! But he knew these keys weren't mine."
Emily: "What did he say exactly?"
Yuu: "Okay. But you can't get mad."
Emily: "Talk. Now."
Yuu: "I didn't say anything, but he knew they were for a building. Like, for security stuff. And he wants a piece of the action."
Emily: "There's no action."
Yuu: "I know that! But he won't trust me, even though I told him that they weren't even for me."
Emily: "Right. Of course."
Yuu: "We can clear it up, we just go in there, and I know we can convince him."
Emily: "Let me think about it."
Yuu: "Sure thing!"
You reflect that you probably can convince this guy, whoever he is.
Vote for ONE of the following:
[_] You want those keys tonight. Sneak out with Yuu and meet the locksmith guy.
[_] You want those keys tonight. Give Yuu your last $50 and make him go deal with it.
[_] You want those keys tonight: write-in regarding the key situation.
[_] You'll deal with the key situation by visiting the locksmith guy tomorrow after school, with Yuu.
[_] You'll deal with the key situation tomorrow after school: write-in how.
Vote for ONE of the following:
[_] You dream of the sea dragon's pearl.
[_] You dream of the generous thief.
[_] You dream of the barge of night.
[_] You dream of the prison cavern.
[_] You dream of the bridge to heaven.
If you haven't yet voted in the mechanics thread for all our other level 2 decisions — ability points, skill points, and a new breath weapon attack effect — please do so now!
https://forum.questionablequesting....-mechanics-discussion.1439/page-3#post-291255
Thanks!
[X] 4 Larceny: Yuu can probably help you find a shady locksmith who will copy some of the janitor's keys, which are still in your pocket. This will cost a bunch, but you can probably afford it.: (john doe, Sheaman3773, 1986ctcel, Karnven)
[X] 8 Mask of Scales: Your level 2 scales are very obvious, but you can make them disappear at will. Your scales cover and distort your face, hands, neck, etc., but you can make them disappear with a Standard action. Hiding your scales also deprives you of their AC benefit. REQUIREMENT: It turns out this is just a very limited application of the Lesser invocation Humanoid Shape. You are required to take that Invocation as soon as it is available, and never trade it out.: (Xilph, john doe, Piell, Karnven, Sheaman3773, Jack of Olives, 1986ctcel, Guile) (Locked in, will happen as soon as we hit 2nd level.)
☲ ☲ ☲
Tuesday, March 1, 2011 - Evening
You sit on the bus as it travels north. It's only about a fifteen minute ride from school to home. The sun is low in the sky, and the skyscrapers of the west side throw long shadows across the river. Up north where you live is pretty nice, but not as nice as the west side's downtown.
You feel good about your activities today. You saw an injustice, and you punished the perpetrators.
On the other hand, it was a lot of effort, and you didn't actually solve any of the underlying issues. But you did get a bunch of cash. Taking the material wealth of evildoers somehow feels very right.
Taking the keys of the janitor, though, does not feel particularly right. You're going to have to return them. Maybe leave them in the Lost & Found, or drop them outside in the snow near where you bumped into him, or something. You feel slightly bad about taking them home with you. That was unnecessary, you should have planned ahead better.
Oh well. As long as you have the keys, you might as well put them to good use.
The bus pulls up to your stop, and you get off.
You walk up the familiar hill. Home, sweet home.
☲ ☲ ☲
[dice]1180[/dice]
vs. DC 20 (friendly -> helpful)
PS: Guile, tell me if I am writing Yuu correctly.
vs. DC 20 (friendly -> helpful)
PS: Guile, tell me if I am writing Yuu correctly.
"You're sure?" you ask Yuu, prodding him.
"Yeah. Yeah! I got this."
You smile sweetly at Yuu. "Thanks, Yuu. You're a champ."
"You know it! Aight, I'm out." Yuu gives a dramatic salute and jumps out the door.
He's such a kid sometimes. But still, that went well. He said the duplicate keys will only cost you $80, but you know he's notorious for underestimating costs, so you gave him $120 just in case. That still leaves you $50 ahead.
It's 4:45. You have about an hour of daylight left, if you count all the time that the sky is not totally dark as "daylight".
You drop your backpack off in your room, and move your remaining cash from your sock into your pocket.
You feel ready. You set out for a walk around the neighborhood.
☲ ☲ ☲
Woah, $7 for a large pizza. You can't even get a small pizza for that. No wonder they went out of business. I am 15 and what is inflation?
Other than Blank-o Pizza, your own very clever name for the signless and overgrown pizza joint, there aren't many empty storefronts in this part of town. The interstate off-ramps give a lot of valuable traffic, and the Walmart's always busy so that probably helps too.
There's not much to the north, just a Dunkin Donuts and the Town House Diner.
You turn away from the abandoned pizza shop and walk south, towards the larger mall, which sits right next to the interchange.
☲ ☲ ☲
Walmart is more depressing than you remember. The employees are tired and unfit, and their smiles are fake. You decide not to buy their cupcakes. Maybe you could buy a mask here? Or sportswear? It's pretty low quality stuff, though.
You leave Walmart.
You look longingly at the Five Guys burger place across the highway. It's nice to sit at their outside tables, even though it's next to a major road, because of the flower shop next d— oh, the flower shop looks closed, empty. That's distressing. You don't like the idea of empty storefronts. That's what the south end is like, what Winslow is like. You don't want your neighborhood to be like that.
You turn around and walk into Super Stop & Shop. You're very familiar with this store, since it's the nearest supermarket and it's where they send you when you help with the shopping. Your idea of helping out the shopkeepers doesn't seem to fit very well with modern commerce.
As you pass through aisles of packaged food, you wonder briefly where your idea of helping out shopkeepers came from. It seems… quaint. Anachronistic. Like you're expecting a nice thatched roof bakery with an old lady behind the counter, but what you get instead is this strip-mall. It's nonsense.
Yes, it's nonsense: but you can't decide if you mean that your expectations were nonsense, or if the reality you live in is nonsense.
You leave the supermarket and enter the department store, Kohl's. You look longingly over the outdoors equipment: 200 ft. of synthetic rope, several kinds of multi-tool, a set of pitons and an ice-axe… all tagged with anti-theft devices. You ponder stealing something, but the store is very close to home, and you'd risk recognition if anything went wrong. You really don't want anyone at the orphanage to think of you as a criminal. Unfortunately, you'll just have to find a way to get more money, or you'll have to find another place from which to steal outdoors gear.
You leave the large department store and walk towards home, past the row of smaller stores: Bell Atlantic Cell, Tricare Veteran something, Payless Shoes, another empty storefront, New York Family Pizza, Sally Beauty Supply and the attached nails place, the very useful Dollar Tree, the discount clothing store Fashion Bug (still not as cheap as the Salvation Army), a mattress store, a liquor store, and finally a video arcade slash DVD rental store called Hollywood Entertainment.
Instead of walking along Route 12, you take the partially hidden cement stairs to Carter Rd., which is basically a glorified driveway for some average little houses. You give them sidelong glances across their snow-covered lawns as you pass, the light spilling from one window making an elongated box on the snow, like a demented cinema projector. A shadow moves across the light-box — someone's there — and your heart rate jumps, but it's just someone inside the house. The house with two cars and a snowman outside. The house where a family lives.
You shove aside the pang of jealousy and make your way back to your own family, a block and a half away.
☲ ☲ ☲
"Hello Emily!" Little Alice ambushes you upon your return. "Did you get powers today?"
"Yes, of course," you reply, dropping into a combat crouch and gamboling towards her with your hands extended menacingly. "Today I got a Striker power to tickle you."
"That's not a real pow— ah! Eeek! Aha ha ha!"
You gleefully menace Alice and the other smaller children until the dinner bell.
Yuu lets himself in and sits down about halfway through dinner, which is otherwise uneventful.
☲ ☲ ☲
After dinner, Yuu wanted to have a quiet chat with you.
Yuu: "Hey, listen."
Emily: "What's up?"
Yuu: "My key guy. He wants to meet you."
Emily: "Yuu…"
Yuu: "I didn't tell him anything! But he knew these keys weren't mine."
Emily: "What did he say exactly?"
Yuu: "Okay. But you can't get mad."
Emily: "Talk. Now."
Yuu: "I didn't say anything, but he knew they were for a building. Like, for security stuff. And he wants a piece of the action."
Emily: "There's no action."
Yuu: "I know that! But he won't trust me, even though I told him that they weren't even for me."
Emily: "Right. Of course."
Yuu: "We can clear it up, we just go in there, and I know we can convince him."
Emily: "Let me think about it."
Yuu: "Sure thing!"
You reflect that you probably can convince this guy, whoever he is.
☲ ☲ ☲
Evening Plans Vote
Vote for ONE of the following:
[_] You want those keys tonight. Sneak out with Yuu and meet the locksmith guy.
[_] You want those keys tonight. Give Yuu your last $50 and make him go deal with it.
[_] You want those keys tonight: write-in regarding the key situation.
[_] You'll deal with the key situation by visiting the locksmith guy tomorrow after school, with Yuu.
[_] You'll deal with the key situation tomorrow after school: write-in how.
Vote for ONE of the following:
[_] You dream of the sea dragon's pearl.
[_] You dream of the generous thief.
[_] You dream of the barge of night.
[_] You dream of the prison cavern.
[_] You dream of the bridge to heaven.
☲ ☲ ☲
If you haven't yet voted in the mechanics thread for all our other level 2 decisions — ability points, skill points, and a new breath weapon attack effect — please do so now!
https://forum.questionablequesting....-mechanics-discussion.1439/page-3#post-291255
Thanks!
1.2 - Locksmith Visit
evildice
(emotionally stable clown posse)
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2015
- Messages
- 21,404
- Likes received
- 350,715
[X] 6 You want those keys tonight. Sneak out with Yuu and meet the locksmith guy.: (Guile, Jack of Olives, 1986ctcel, Drak4806, Sheaman3773, Bailey Matutine)
[X] 3 You dream of the sea dragon's pearl.: (Jack of Olives, 1986ctcel, Drak4806)
"This is a terrible idea," you whisper to Yuu.
"Stay cool," he hisses back.
You sneak out of the orphanage.
The snow crunches under your boots as you follow Yuu through the woody overgrowth between the orphanage and the Best Western hotel's parking lot.
"You're parked in there?" you ask, your breath billowing.
"Yeah. The lot's shared with the Dunkin and the Flannigan's. Nobody checks."
"Smart."
"You know it."
He leads you to a Vespa, and opens a compartment under the seat. He pulls out two helmets, offering one of them to you.
You don't take the helmet. You stare at the Vespa. It's been painted in a patchwork, presumably covering various areas where it's seen repair. It's not rusty, so far as you can see, but it does not inspire trust.
"This. This is your ride." Your tone is more frigid than the night air.
Yuu just looks at you, holding out a helmet.
"I'm going to freeze my ass off."
"It ain't bad." He puts down the helmet on the bike's seat, zips up his leather jacket, and starts to put on his own helmet. "Button up and hold on to my back!"
Exasperated, you grab the biker helmet from the Vespa's seat, and pull it over your head. Ow! Right, ponytail.
"Fuck. Give me a sec. I need to adjust."
"Hah! Girls always spend too much time on hair."
"Don't make me set you on fire." Oops. You change the subject. "What happened to your car?"
"Insurance, it's too expensive. I got a ticket. I had to sell the car before the next inspection."
"That sucks."
"You know how it is."
Yeah, you do. "Okay, I'm set."
"Let's go!"
Yuu is tall, his shoulders are broad, and his body is a more effective windbreaker than you'd expected. Your hands, though. They're very cold. You will want better gloves if you do this regularly.
Especially when he crossed the river. You're not sure if it's the high speed of the highway or being up so high or being over the water, but wow. Brrr. Not happy fingers.
They're not entirely numb when Yuu turns off of Mohegan Avenue Parkway onto Richard's Grove Road, and then pulls to a stop in front of a two-story brick storefront. The store looks closed, but Yuu chains up his scooter and gestures to the alley behind the building, where you see some light.
You follow.
As you walk, you pay attention to your gait and bearing. You figure Yuu's "friend" is probably trying to rip him off, or scam him somehow, so you try to make yourself as intimidating as you can: resolute, commanding, implacable, and not willing to take shit from anybody. You try to project this as you follow Yuu through the store's back door.
"Hey Johnny! I am back!"
"Well well, ain't it nice to see Yuu again." The voice — presumably Johnny — is condescending and oily.
Yuu doesn't react. Perhaps he's used to such treatment? "Always great, Johnny. I brought my friend."
"Let's see who we got here."
You walk in.
You give the locksmith's back room a once-over, casing it like a joint you're going to rob. It takes you barely two seconds to flick your eyes over everything of value, and then settle on Johnny.
Then, you look at Johnny. "Nice place you've got here."
"Yeah. Thanks." His oily condescension is gone.
You take control of the conversation. "Yuu said you wanted to meet. Was there some problem with the keys?"
"No problem. I just wanted to know, uh, to meet the buyer."
"Here I am. Are the keys ready?"
"I got 'em, yeah," he rallies, "But see, it looks to me like you's planning a thing."
You gaze at him impassively. Intimidating-ly.
He falters, but carries on. "Yeah, so see, I wanted to help out my buddy Yuu here, an' I can't do that unless I know what's up, you know?"
"You think there's gonna be some action."
"That's right. Yeah. An' I know Yuu ain't up on all the details we got about all the local situation. You feel me?"
You don't know what he's talking about, but whatever. It's probably not important. "I hear you, but here's the thing. Those keys aren't for a job. They're just for my personal convenience."
Johnny looks at Yuu accusingly. "That ain't what you told me."
Yuu puts up his hands defensively. "H-hey man, I only said maybe. It maybe was something. That's all I said."
You put a hand on Yuu's shoulder, never taking your eyes off Johnny. "It's not Yuu's fault. I didn't tell him all the details. The action I'm looking at needs some locksmith tools. Yuu says I can trust you, Johnny."
"Of course you can trust me." The oil in his voice is back.
"Great." You step forward. "Show me what you've got."
Once you guided Johnny to focus on selling you a lock picking set, rather than ripping you off for the key dupes, you were able to conclude the deal fairly and extricate yourselves from the Archer's Bridge Lock Shop.
You also learned that Yuu owed Johnny's boss some money, and he hoped you'd consider them when it came time to choose a fence. Though he didn't say it quite that politely.
In total, the keys and lock picking toolkit set you back $120. You give Yuu $20 for helping you, and for gas. You have $30 left in your pocket.
You daydream about warm, fur-lined gloves all the way home. And a fur-lined hat. And a cashmere scarf. And what the hell, a mink coat.
Apparently you're still daydreaming when you try to sneak back into the dorm room.
"Ahem," comes the voice from behind you. "What are you doing, coming in at this hour?"
It's Big Al. He's not dumb. Fuck.
"I'm sorry, it's my fault." You react swiftly. You don't want Yuu to talk. "I asked Yuu to drive me across the bridge. I wanted to do some shopping, but everyplace I could afford was closed, so we just got donuts and coffee and came home and I'm really sorry, it won't happen again."
You try to make your lie sound like a guilty confession, hurriedly spilling out. From Big Al's expression, he buys it. You don't let your relief show: you maintain proper contrition for the duration of Big Al's silent consideration.
"You look like you know why that's a bad idea, Emily."
"Yes, sir. I do."
Big Al sighs. "Get upstairs. We can talk about this in the morning."
Fuck. Better than waking up the dorm mother, though. "Okay. Thanks. Goodnight."
"And you. You're supposed to know better, Yuu."
"You know me, I can't leave my kid sista in distress." Not bad, Yuu.
"Enough staring, Emily. Upstairs, now."
You reluctantly leave Yuu and Big Al. You still don't entirely trust Yuu, but you can't plausibly stay. "I'm going."
You go.
You're asleep soon after your head hits the pillow, sinking into your bed's soft embrace. The blankets above you are a soothing, cool pressure. The depths of the mattress inviting, and you swim deeper, swishing your long, sinuous tail as you descend.
The light above is a discomfort, the gold of noon pressing through the depths where it ought not venture.
Your pearl pulsates, warm in the grip of your fifth claw.
Suddenly, the sea is gone, vaporized in a golden flash, and you rise with the vapors, for you are sea and storm, wave and wind, rain and river and ocean. You ride the building thunderheads, but you do not partake in the storm's fury, for what you see leaves you aghast.
The Heavens are empty. The lands are burned to ash. The sea, your sea, has been boiled away to nothing, and there are none to forfend this catastrophe.
You raise your pearl, and in its silvery surface you see your own scaly face reflected, your horns and whiskers distorted as the pearl's surface wobbles, ripples, and stretches.
Around you, the clouds roil. Below you, there is only destruction. Around you, naught but desolation. Not a single leaf of the peach-trees of immortality. Not a scrap of the parchment of the sutras.
If even the Celestial Emperor fell, then there can be no hope through power.
The pearl expands until it is your own image, large as life and half as dangerous. A world-shattering power, and you throw it away as nothing more than a decoy.
The mountains tremble, and a thousand peaks erupt with the boiling blood of the earth, and ash clouds twine among the skyward ocean vapors. You are in luck. You race from peak to peak, seeking an optimal congruence, a place where a balance of the five elements clash with sufficient power, a place of harmonious violence.
You feel a phantom pain, a pang of injuries done to another. Your pearl is in combat.
There! The mountain erupts with burning liquid metal, lashed by rain and wind, and a thunderbolt strikes. You ride the lightning out of this dead and dying Earth, and even as you leave, you feel your decoy shatter.
The combat was brief — pathetic even — but it may have been enough.
You may have avoided pursuit from the golden doom that scoured your world.
You slither through the darkness between worlds.
But the darkness won't let you go. It twists around your hands, your neck, and you can't move, you can't escape, you thrash and —
You wake up, your hands entwined in the sheets, your silver-scaled fingers each gripping a golden coin.
Ding!
Luckily, you seem to be the first girl awake again.
You hurry to the bathroom to take a look at yourself.
Woah.
Your face is unrecognizable, a mask of perfect silver scales.
You concentrate, and the scales shimmer into ordinary skin. Excellent. You make them come back. You make them go away again.
You're feeling pretty good about this.
Then you realize: you're a silver-scaled dragon-like pyrokinetic in Lung's city.
Well, fuck.
Select ONE of the following:
[_] Getting scolded by the dorm mother for sneaking out: take your punishment like a man.
[_] Getting scolded by the dorm mother for sneaking out: weasel out like the Rogue you are (write in how).
Select ONE or TWO of the following:
[_] It's a school day and you aim to misbehave: write in your plan.
[_] Acquiring funding via "honest" work: look into parahuman employment.
[_] Acquiring funding via gold sale: visit a pawn shop.
[_] Acquiring funding via gold sale: talk to Johnny Green.
[_] Acquiring funding via gold sale: write in your plan.
[_] Acquiring funding via thievery: write in your plan.
[_] Returning Mr. Rivera's keys: sleight of hand them into the Lost & Found box.
[_] Returning Mr. Rivera's keys: write in your plan.
[X] 3 You dream of the sea dragon's pearl.: (Jack of Olives, 1986ctcel, Drak4806)
☲ ☲ ☲
"This is a terrible idea," you whisper to Yuu.
"Stay cool," he hisses back.
[dice]1255[/dice]
… vs. DC 12 (person on duty taking 10)
… vs. DC 12 (person on duty taking 10)
You sneak out of the orphanage.
The snow crunches under your boots as you follow Yuu through the woody overgrowth between the orphanage and the Best Western hotel's parking lot.
"You're parked in there?" you ask, your breath billowing.
"Yeah. The lot's shared with the Dunkin and the Flannigan's. Nobody checks."
"Smart."
"You know it."
He leads you to a Vespa, and opens a compartment under the seat. He pulls out two helmets, offering one of them to you.
You don't take the helmet. You stare at the Vespa. It's been painted in a patchwork, presumably covering various areas where it's seen repair. It's not rusty, so far as you can see, but it does not inspire trust.
"This. This is your ride." Your tone is more frigid than the night air.
Yuu just looks at you, holding out a helmet.
"I'm going to freeze my ass off."
"It ain't bad." He puts down the helmet on the bike's seat, zips up his leather jacket, and starts to put on his own helmet. "Button up and hold on to my back!"
Exasperated, you grab the biker helmet from the Vespa's seat, and pull it over your head. Ow! Right, ponytail.
"Fuck. Give me a sec. I need to adjust."
"Hah! Girls always spend too much time on hair."
"Don't make me set you on fire." Oops. You change the subject. "What happened to your car?"
"Insurance, it's too expensive. I got a ticket. I had to sell the car before the next inspection."
"That sucks."
"You know how it is."
Yeah, you do. "Okay, I'm set."
"Let's go!"
☲ ☲ ☲
Yuu is tall, his shoulders are broad, and his body is a more effective windbreaker than you'd expected. Your hands, though. They're very cold. You will want better gloves if you do this regularly.
Especially when he crossed the river. You're not sure if it's the high speed of the highway or being up so high or being over the water, but wow. Brrr. Not happy fingers.
They're not entirely numb when Yuu turns off of Mohegan Avenue Parkway onto Richard's Grove Road, and then pulls to a stop in front of a two-story brick storefront. The store looks closed, but Yuu chains up his scooter and gestures to the alley behind the building, where you see some light.
You follow.
As you walk, you pay attention to your gait and bearing. You figure Yuu's "friend" is probably trying to rip him off, or scam him somehow, so you try to make yourself as intimidating as you can: resolute, commanding, implacable, and not willing to take shit from anybody. You try to project this as you follow Yuu through the store's back door.
"Hey Johnny! I am back!"
"Well well, ain't it nice to see Yuu again." The voice — presumably Johnny — is condescending and oily.
Yuu doesn't react. Perhaps he's used to such treatment? "Always great, Johnny. I brought my friend."
"Let's see who we got here."
You walk in.
[dice]1267[/dice]
… vs. DC 14
… vs. DC 14
You give the locksmith's back room a once-over, casing it like a joint you're going to rob. It takes you barely two seconds to flick your eyes over everything of value, and then settle on Johnny.
Then, you look at Johnny. "Nice place you've got here."
"Yeah. Thanks." His oily condescension is gone.
You take control of the conversation. "Yuu said you wanted to meet. Was there some problem with the keys?"
"No problem. I just wanted to know, uh, to meet the buyer."
"Here I am. Are the keys ready?"
"I got 'em, yeah," he rallies, "But see, it looks to me like you's planning a thing."
You gaze at him impassively. Intimidating-ly.
He falters, but carries on. "Yeah, so see, I wanted to help out my buddy Yuu here, an' I can't do that unless I know what's up, you know?"
"You think there's gonna be some action."
"That's right. Yeah. An' I know Yuu ain't up on all the details we got about all the local situation. You feel me?"
[dice]1273[/dice]
You don't know what he's talking about, but whatever. It's probably not important. "I hear you, but here's the thing. Those keys aren't for a job. They're just for my personal convenience."
Johnny looks at Yuu accusingly. "That ain't what you told me."
Yuu puts up his hands defensively. "H-hey man, I only said maybe. It maybe was something. That's all I said."
[dice]1271[/dice]
… which is enough to get Indifferent to Helpful
… which is enough to get Indifferent to Helpful
You put a hand on Yuu's shoulder, never taking your eyes off Johnny. "It's not Yuu's fault. I didn't tell him all the details. The action I'm looking at needs some locksmith tools. Yuu says I can trust you, Johnny."
"Of course you can trust me." The oil in his voice is back.
"Great." You step forward. "Show me what you've got."
☲ ☲ ☲
Once you guided Johnny to focus on selling you a lock picking set, rather than ripping you off for the key dupes, you were able to conclude the deal fairly and extricate yourselves from the Archer's Bridge Lock Shop.
You also learned that Yuu owed Johnny's boss some money, and he hoped you'd consider them when it came time to choose a fence. Though he didn't say it quite that politely.
In total, the keys and lock picking toolkit set you back $120. You give Yuu $20 for helping you, and for gas. You have $30 left in your pocket.
You daydream about warm, fur-lined gloves all the way home. And a fur-lined hat. And a cashmere scarf. And what the hell, a mink coat.
☲ ☲ ☲
[dice]1275[/dice]
… vs. DC 12, whoops.
… vs. DC 12, whoops.
Apparently you're still daydreaming when you try to sneak back into the dorm room.
"Ahem," comes the voice from behind you. "What are you doing, coming in at this hour?"
It's Big Al. He's not dumb. Fuck.
[dice]1276[/dice]
vs. DC 16
vs. DC 16
"I'm sorry, it's my fault." You react swiftly. You don't want Yuu to talk. "I asked Yuu to drive me across the bridge. I wanted to do some shopping, but everyplace I could afford was closed, so we just got donuts and coffee and came home and I'm really sorry, it won't happen again."
You try to make your lie sound like a guilty confession, hurriedly spilling out. From Big Al's expression, he buys it. You don't let your relief show: you maintain proper contrition for the duration of Big Al's silent consideration.
"You look like you know why that's a bad idea, Emily."
"Yes, sir. I do."
Big Al sighs. "Get upstairs. We can talk about this in the morning."
Fuck. Better than waking up the dorm mother, though. "Okay. Thanks. Goodnight."
"And you. You're supposed to know better, Yuu."
"You know me, I can't leave my kid sista in distress." Not bad, Yuu.
"Enough staring, Emily. Upstairs, now."
You reluctantly leave Yuu and Big Al. You still don't entirely trust Yuu, but you can't plausibly stay. "I'm going."
You go.
☲ ☲ ☲
You're asleep soon after your head hits the pillow, sinking into your bed's soft embrace. The blankets above you are a soothing, cool pressure. The depths of the mattress inviting, and you swim deeper, swishing your long, sinuous tail as you descend.
The light above is a discomfort, the gold of noon pressing through the depths where it ought not venture.
Your pearl pulsates, warm in the grip of your fifth claw.
Suddenly, the sea is gone, vaporized in a golden flash, and you rise with the vapors, for you are sea and storm, wave and wind, rain and river and ocean. You ride the building thunderheads, but you do not partake in the storm's fury, for what you see leaves you aghast.
The Heavens are empty. The lands are burned to ash. The sea, your sea, has been boiled away to nothing, and there are none to forfend this catastrophe.
You raise your pearl, and in its silvery surface you see your own scaly face reflected, your horns and whiskers distorted as the pearl's surface wobbles, ripples, and stretches.
Around you, the clouds roil. Below you, there is only destruction. Around you, naught but desolation. Not a single leaf of the peach-trees of immortality. Not a scrap of the parchment of the sutras.
If even the Celestial Emperor fell, then there can be no hope through power.
The pearl expands until it is your own image, large as life and half as dangerous. A world-shattering power, and you throw it away as nothing more than a decoy.
The mountains tremble, and a thousand peaks erupt with the boiling blood of the earth, and ash clouds twine among the skyward ocean vapors. You are in luck. You race from peak to peak, seeking an optimal congruence, a place where a balance of the five elements clash with sufficient power, a place of harmonious violence.
You feel a phantom pain, a pang of injuries done to another. Your pearl is in combat.
There! The mountain erupts with burning liquid metal, lashed by rain and wind, and a thunderbolt strikes. You ride the lightning out of this dead and dying Earth, and even as you leave, you feel your decoy shatter.
The combat was brief — pathetic even — but it may have been enough.
You may have avoided pursuit from the golden doom that scoured your world.
You slither through the darkness between worlds.
But the darkness won't let you go. It twists around your hands, your neck, and you can't move, you can't escape, you thrash and —
You wake up, your hands entwined in the sheets, your silver-scaled fingers each gripping a golden coin.
☲ ☲ ☲
Ding!
☲ ☲ ☲
Luckily, you seem to be the first girl awake again.
You hurry to the bathroom to take a look at yourself.
Woah.
Your face is unrecognizable, a mask of perfect silver scales.
You concentrate, and the scales shimmer into ordinary skin. Excellent. You make them come back. You make them go away again.
You're feeling pretty good about this.
Then you realize: you're a silver-scaled dragon-like pyrokinetic in Lung's city.
Well, fuck.
☲ ☲ ☲
Select ONE of the following:
[_] Getting scolded by the dorm mother for sneaking out: take your punishment like a man.
[_] Getting scolded by the dorm mother for sneaking out: weasel out like the Rogue you are (write in how).
Select ONE or TWO of the following:
[_] It's a school day and you aim to misbehave: write in your plan.
[_] Acquiring funding via "honest" work: look into parahuman employment.
[_] Acquiring funding via gold sale: visit a pawn shop.
[_] Acquiring funding via gold sale: talk to Johnny Green.
[_] Acquiring funding via gold sale: write in your plan.
[_] Acquiring funding via thievery: write in your plan.
[_] Returning Mr. Rivera's keys: sleight of hand them into the Lost & Found box.
[_] Returning Mr. Rivera's keys: write in your plan.