Everything needs a beginning....

Just before the bell of Thrice-A-Day Tower struck ten this morning, there was a rain of blood over the Shambles that lasted nearly fifteen minutes. Fat red drops fell from a cloudless sky, leaving puddles that evaporated moments after the rain ceased and leaving only curiously suggestive stains.

In the Rumcastle district, at fifteen minutes after eleven, a child was born who had a hole in his chest where a heart would normally be found. The baby was in no way discomfited by the missing organ, and otherwise seems entirely healthy. His parents have not yet decided on a name.

At thirty-five minutes past noon, a brown dog leapt atop the rim of a fountain in Five Fathoms Market and recited a quatrain in an unknown language, vanishing back into the crowds before anyone could succeed in laying hands upon it.

There were doubtless more omens --there always are -- but they have passed unseen and unremarked. There is no question in anyone's mind, however: another god washed ashore sometime today.

That might be why someone is screaming for help now, here in the Staggers, as midnight approaches. Probably not; murder is far more common than apotheosis, even in these degenerate days. But one never knows.
__________________

The session proper will begin with the rolling of initiative, as I assume that at least most of you are the sort to respond to plaintive calls for aid. Perhaps not the safest of assumptions, admittedly, but one has to start somewhere.

Feel free to ask any questions that you might have at this early juncture; I promise answers, if not necessarily honest ones.

Rolzup wrote:

Feel free to ask any questions that you might have at this early juncture; I promise answers, if not necessarily honest ones.

Ah, truly refreshing honesty!

Do you need any explanation for why we're out on the street at midnight, or shall we pull some reason out of our asses, like we usually do?

Yatagan is cruising the streets of the Shambles looking for a random "justice partner" ie, someone obviously committing a crime. Earlier, he performed at a poetry slam in the Quadrille. Before that, he consumed a little "liquid valor" at a tavern near the slam's venue.

At the sound of the scream, Yatagan will draw his sword and begin thinking moderately impure thoughts.

shilsen wrote:

Rolzup wrote:

Feel free to ask any questions that you might have at this early juncture; I promise answers, if not necessarily honest ones.

Ah, truly refreshing honesty!

Do you need any explanation for why we're out on the street at midnight, or shall we pull some reason out of our asses, like we usually do?

The sounds of conflict are coming from fairly close by -- enough that they can be heard from the windows of the Hall of Mob Justice, for those who have no excuse to be wandering the streets at midnight.

But yeah, rectal prestidigitation is probably the best solution.

"gods be damned can't they let an old man rest!?" Asarlai shouts as jumps from his chair next to the fireplace. "come on now, no need to dawdle. let's go see what the commotion is!" shooing out any others still in our lodgings (or just himself).

Heyoka Jumps-Off-Mountains can't sleep. He was up late, on the roof of the Hall of Mob Justice, performing his nightly prayers and ablutions to his goddess, Crazy Moon Woman.

Feeling too energized and feral to go to sleep, Heyoka decided to practice his stalking skills, leaping from rooftop to rooftop in search of prey. Sadly, not being at all skilled in stealth, his stalking only succeeded in scaring the living shit out of the neighbors, as he loudly stomped on their roofs while howling and huffing with predatory breath.

Captain Artichoke sits at a table in the common room of the Hall of Mob Justice, nursing a drink, a mild headache, and the usual feelings of frustration and general grumpiness which comes from a long day of trying to whip the members of the Just Us League into a functional fighting force. Or at least as many of the League as are around at any given point, which is not many (esp. once he begins one of his lectures and/or training sessions). Once in a while he eyes Asarlai, dozing beside the fireplace, or winces slightly at a particularly loud crash as Heyoka lands on a weak section of a nearby roof.

The cries for aid come as a welcome relief and Captain leaps to his feet, opening his mouth - and then closing it as Asarlai begins to shout. When the crotchety old warlock is done, Captain adds his voice, shouting, "Come on, idi-, um, warriors of the League. Some clien-, er, sucke-, um, distressed individuals need our aid! Get your asses out there!"

With that, he heads for the door, praying to the gods he really doesn't believe in that some of the others will respond as well. And swearing inwardly as Asarlai's cane lands on his toe as the half-elf hurries by him.

Odanais Dare was lying in his bed blindfolded when he heard the first scream.

He maintained his concentration, focusing his mind on the prestidigitation cantrip he was using to lend his sister's scent to the woman kissing him. Perfecting it, he layered on a second cantrip to mask her foul breath, making her kisses taste just like Elizee's, although her lips themselves were not the same. Too flat, too greasy with cheap makeup, too vulgar in their motions.

By the time he heard the second scream, Odanais was already giving up hope that the young lady could ever be coached to move and touch as Elizee had. Tomorrow night, he'd find another.

"Pardon me, my dear, but I hear outside the cacophony of ill circumstance," he said, rising from the bed and placing a few coins from his pocket on the pillow next to her. "Please feel liberty to take your leave of me."

Freeing himself from the blindfold, he headed down the stairs to investigate, his sister's scent still lingering in his mind.

The screaming wasn’t enough to rouse Penelope. She was not properly dressed—by her standards, anyway—and busy playing with the small tabby she affectionately called Sappho. Screaming was common enough anyway, wasn’t it?

Unfortunately, shortly after her decision to ignore the screams, she heard Artichoke and the old warlock shouting. Though Penelope wasn’t entirely convinced anything serious was going on (i.e. the world ending), she decided, somewhat grudgingly, that she’d investigate with the others. After grumbling to herself, the ranger apologized to Sappho for having to leave, hastily got dressed, and headed downstairs to join the others.

(for the record, Yatagan speaks, or more usually, shouts in a stentorian accent usually reserved for British actors playing Roman senators)

"I say, do the efficacious vexations I hear indicate that Sir Artichoke has taken the field?!" bellows Yatagan Fracas as he rounds the corner. His enunciation is, as usual, flawless. His grasp of the facts, however, is not. Yatagan seems unaware that he just used his poetic license to elevate the portly pamphleteer to the peerage.

The paladin gives a wide, crocodile smile as he sees the motley members of the Just Us -- his smile cracks as he curses himself for using Artichoke's embarrassing appellation -- as members of the Radiant Seed of Justice pile out the bar they use as a headquarters.

Yatagan cocks his head in the direction of a nearby scream. "For those about to die..." he says, and then ejaculates --discreetly-- on his sword.

Mallus wrote:

(for the record, Yatagan speaks, or more usually, shouts in a stentorian accent usually reserved for British actors playing Roman senators)

I picture Jon Lovitz as Master Thespian, only scalier. And, um, ejaculate-er.

Quote :

Yatagan cocks his head in the direction of a nearby scream. "For those about to die..." he says, and then ejaculates --discreetly-- on his sword.

I wonder what Matt from the M&M game would think of this - and Odanais using a cantrip to make a hooker smell like his sister. He was a bit squicked by my, rather mild by comparison, scatological humour.

Atlatl Jones wrote:

I picture Jon Lovitz as Master Thespian, only scalier.

Yatagan does has a charisma of 18... I was thinking more along the lines of Patrick Stewart. A Patrick Stewart eternally in the act of addressing a room full of people he thinks are ST:TNG fans, but aren't.

BTW, I believe Jon Lovitz reproduces by budding.

Quote :

I wonder what Matt from the M&M game would think of this - and Odanais using a cantrip to make a hooker smell like his sister. He was a bit squicked by my, rather mild by comparison, scatological humour.

I imagine he'd wonder what shit like that was doing in a roleplaying game. Much as John D. does.

Mallus wrote:

Atlatl Jones wrote:

I picture Jon Lovitz as Master Thespian, only scalier.

Yatagan does has a charisma of 18... I was thinking more along the lines of Patrick Stewart. A Patrick Stewart eternally in the act of addressing a room full of people he thinks are ST:TNG fans, but aren't.

Ah, that makes sense.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fg_cwI1Xj4M

Quote :

Quote :

I wonder what Matt from the M&M game would think of this - and Odanais using a cantrip to make a hooker smell like his sister. He was a bit squicked by my, rather mild by comparison, scatological humour.

I imagine he'd wonder what shit like that was doing in a roleplaying game. Much as John D. does.

If I wanted Heyoka to fit in, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to make him, shall we say, not differentiate between "people" and animals as much as humans do.

If I do write this up as a story hour, I'm beginning to suspect that it'll be one that can't be posted at EnWorld.

RPGnet, on the other hand, has much more lax community standards....

Yeah, I suspect that Eric's Grandma might have issues with "Yatagan then ejaculates --discreetly-- on his sword."

(That line kills me. The "discretely" is what does it.)

Atlatl Jones wrote:

Yeah, I suspect that Eric's Grandma might have issues with "Yatagan then ejaculates --discreetly-- on his sword."

I think it's outright profanity, not inherent perversity, that trips the censors at ENWorld. There's some stuff in the CITY Story Hour that's pretty bad. Like an off-hand remark about the 'miracle of the Trampsubstantiation' --guess what's getting transformed-- or turning the first verse of Kublai Khan into doggerel about hookers.

Quote :

(That line kills me. The "discretely" is what does it.)

The bar for amusing has been raised very high in our group. I do what I can to keep up...

Odanais purchases a jar of grain alcohol (assuming there's not one sitting around the bar) and preserves the swarm of dead, armored pixies in it.

why do i have the feeling that he is going to aquire a taste for pickled pixie?

A taste, a fetish... who can say?