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desolate

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  1. I, Henrietta

    Right. Rotten Treesamine. In the past, Noel wouldn't have let the insult slide, but this was a new Noel. A kinder, less tempestuous Noel. A dignified Noel. He took the verbal slap in the face like a "third prince" should; with an itemized list of possible expenses to include in his fee behind an empty expression. It turned out that year of isolated, fervent study and meditation paid off. Wyrm's Lair, the last time he went on a "quest," they demolished some poor gnome woman's house and damaged a hospital. Today, there was barely a scratch on that airship! Improvement all around. "You're welcome," Noel granted and dropped the drone in front of them. He supposed Henrietta thought it was expensive, and it must have been on the hacking-side to get through their defenses, but on the manpower side it seemed rather cheap to him. A sniper in the empty control tower would have put a rather simple end to them right then and there. "Our lawyers will have to get together later to discuss strategy for the inevitable deposition. I doubt sabotaging an airship and trespassing on a skyport are legal." Not that it mattered. Both of them were rich and quote-unquote pillars of the community. Gaia bless the Inquisitor who got stuck handling a combined Monroe-Trasimene legal team. He didn't doubt his mother would encourage him to counter-sue the municipality... But that was for another day. Noel placed not-Andes back in the van and, if necessary, drove it back to the Foundation himself. On the way, he used the crystal he had one him (twinned with a parent crystal at House Trasimene) to message the family, and the aforementioned black-suited, red-tied lawyer complete with paralegal promptly arrived at the Foundation shortly after. The paralegal handled not-Andes and the spirit-contractual obligation, whereas the lawyer attended whatever necessary debrief with Noel in some heftily secured conference room, with the intention of later homogenizing their accounts of the event and maximizing PR for both parties.
  2. Hell's Gate [civil war]

    @supernal you're up
  3. I, Henrietta

    The inside of the aircraft was distinctly less modern when it came to the passenger area. Blood stained beige shag carpet, bodies slumped against worn brown leather seats, and the wood door to the cockpit hung ajar from a bent hinge; he could see mother of pearl on the yoke (air control wheel). But he only had a moment to admire the retro style of the learning-ship (probably some student engineer's final project from ten years ago) turned getaway-plane before Victory startled him. "Hi. Yeah, it's Noel, I'm—" and she hit a button. The sudden drop also dropped him right down on his rear, and there she went. Victory was long gone by the time he pulled himself up, the soreness in his muscles from climbing and running and wizarding and stressing and now that he thinks about it wanting lunch, there it is, his stomach growled and almost simultaneously turned when he considered the possibility Victory killed her captors, or killed Henrietta, well the drone of Henrietta anyway, or they all killed each other, and oh, right, those are corpses. Heavy breathing combined with old airship smell and dead people stench, which he might have imagined because they looked fresh, try not to think about it, there goes that appetite... Time to leave. The thought of potential security footage gave him pause, but he wasn't that curious, although he supposed Henrietta would want her metal clone back, and so he heaved and hauled and muttered to the drone as if she was an ATM, "My consulting fee isn't cheap, just so you know..." At the door, Noel looked down and his brows rose. It irked him to think he wasn't as athletic as victory, however, he wasn't leaping out the ship. Certainly not with Henrietta's drone. He unceremoniously rolled the drone like with decidedly less care than he had with not-Andes, then butt-slid his way from the door back down to the runway. Once outside, everything seemed good. Sabiya was getting Victory (mission accomplished as far as he knows), Tancred could shoot her if she was a superhuman killer (doesn't affect his fee), and Noel could collect his dues from the Foundation. He dragged the drone in the direction of the three cars and gave a brief explanation to whoever came out first, presumably Foundation given the standard stock vehicles: "Hi. Noel Trasimene. Here's your property, there's your kid," he pointed his thumb in Victory's direction and continued, "three dead in the airship, the one by the van is mine, may I have the address of your billing department?"
  4. I, Henrietta

    His cloak died in vain . Given his current company, he wasn't too embarrassed about the black Roc n Roll band T-shirt he wore, featuring a highly stylized image of famous roc bard Avis Presley. For a second, he thought the various items he threw were unsuccessful, and reached toward his last resort, Andes... until the turbine's thrum gradually wound down to a dying murmur, followed by gunshots. Noel sank back into his seat and held on, managing to catch a fleeting glimpse of Henrietta disappearing into the aircraft's hull. Destination noted. When the tires squealed and the van lurched to a stop, Noel was smushed against the back of a front seat by the unsecured not-Andes, opposite of Tancred and most likely candidate of a possible stray bullet. Fortunately, that didn't happen, and he came out of the ordeal relatively unscathed save for a few bruises from not-Andes limbs. "Great shot. Great driving. Great all around," he said and unceremoniously rolled not-Andes away from him, then exited the van behind Tancred, checked to see how much the pursuing three-vehicle fleet of cars had gained on them, and headed for the landing gear where he saw Henrietta. Climbing up it and into the fuselage proved easier than expected. "Clear," Noel called down to the ground in case anyone was waiting on him; the cargo bay appeared empty of any kidnappers, or Henrietta. Pushing past a few crates of slumbering puppies, he tip-toed to the tail-end of the craft to take the stairs up to the passenger area.
  5. Ask an admin?

    Good question. "Destructive capacity" refers to the potential of a single ability, not the entirety of a character's arsenal. However, this is the upper limits of mild powers, and it's typically expected that someone spends a few posts working up to the destruction instead of waving their hand and wham! oblivion. Additionally, a cookie-cutter suburban home is a good approximation of "building."
  6. I, Henrietta

    "No deaths," Noel answered a little too quickly. Henrietta didn't seem to care anyway. She was more interested in talking about mayo-attic methods and logical bombs; it reminded him of why he never studied engineering, aside from their familial rivalry. At some point, she started talking about shells and OS (in his field that might have meant ontological subjectivity), and it was a struggle not to daydream until they hit the chainlink fences. When they passed through the blips of unpleasant yellow light, Noel wondered if the Monroe Foundation and the airport bought their bulbs from the same outlet. Had there been a sale when Hell's Gate was constructed? There wasn't any time left for day dreaming, for the silhouette of a sleek aircraft grew closer. He swore he could feel the thrum of its turbojets through the seat, assuming Henrietta didn't flip the massage settings on while he was spacing out. "There it is," he said after a second, because no one else seemed to acknowledge the aircraft, and helpfully pointed out the window right at it just in case. "Pardon me, Henrietta. Could you get ahead of it?" Noel opened the door. Once she pulled ahead, he started throwing anything he could at the turbine on their side: his cloak, the tire iron, seat cushions, whatever he could get his hands and reliably throw was going right out. He raised his voice over the wind that filtered through the back, "Is anyone able to take out the pilot from here?"
  7. Let's chat about dice and stats

    The lowered power ceiling in Terrenus is an improvement. Levels and stats wouldn't be that difficult to implement. System(s) should be lightweight to remain accessible to as many people as possible; I'm thinking about a page long, since it's doubtful anyone comes here wanting to read a 350 pg Player's Handbook to write a quickie. The real trick is meaningful progression and keeping players interested and committed in creating or joining threads that have been gamified.
  8. I, Henrietta

    Noel resigned to being ignored by silent strangers again, at least until Henrietta appeared. At first glance, he mistook her for someone from special operations—a FIST operative, perhaps—but the illusion was destroyed by the mummy's face, illuminated by unflattering light, and super nerd-o voice. No amount of expensive tactical gear and impressive musculature could turn that wrinkly egghead into a supersoldier, even if she could lift more than him. Brows raised and eyes widened when she insisted on joining them, then perplexity gave way to pursed lips and annoyance. Initially, he was irritated she thought they needed a babysitter, but her remark about the police bewildered him. One of the most influential Hellions was cowed by the guard's response times? All she had to do was drop the words "terrorism" and "Genesaris," not that airships didn't already imply both! Response time my rear-end. "Certainly. Your appraisal of the situation is remarkably apt." Noel joined Sabiya's ass-kissing, but when Henrietta wasn't looking in his direction, he shot the brown-noser a disgusted look. They piled into the van. Noel kept close to not-Andes. Its comments worried him, but it seemed content to wait for his... true promise. Henrietta drove them out through the Foundation's expansive private property, past the prefab homes constructed for workers and their families, during which he couldn't help but fill any aggravating silence or drown out any further idolatry. "Hi Henrietta. Noel again. Could you explain your thought process behind coming with us? I am thrilled to have you along, but I feel exposing yourself to the criminals who want to murder your..." Pause. "What exactly is your relation to the victim again?"
  9. Evil vs evil

    I don't see much of it, and my perception is that most of these organizations lack achievable, clear, and pragmatic short-term goals. They brush up against "good organizations" like the Terrenus government because "being bad" is innately antagonistic toward "being good." Random acts of cruelty beget opposing reactions from all the predictable sources. It's a different story when there's a goal, such as to gain control of a pier for drug trafficking that's hotly contested by another drug lord, instead of say... blowing up the pier because "me bad, kill ternus".
  10. Came back from vacation to these on my desk:
  11. I, Henrietta

    Good plant? And a pat on the head? Noel took a step back and held his breath. When a few seconds passed and it didn't seem inclined to pop Sabiya's head off (or his, as contract holder he probably got to take all the blame), he let it out. His bad for binding an unknown spirit with laypeople around. "Yes, great one, your bountiful garden awaits. I'll need to move you, and the anchor. Pardon me," Noel said and clumsily helped and/or hauled Andes into the nearest van. After, he unceremoniously pulled and box-cuttered up some shrub—all the better if he could find some seedlings mixed in. Naturally, it was all for show. There wasn't shit he could do without paying a geomancer some real coin money to work some real plant magic; he began thinking of a sob story, but looked up suddenly when Sabiya was making her exit. "Why would we chase them?" he asked and glanced between her and Tancred. Yuan was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully he simply ditched them and didn't end up as paste on the walls from one of those explosions, or he wasn't secretly with the kidnappers and waiting to ambush them. There was supposedly someone on the inside, not that he thought that point was worth discussing since his plans were firmly in the direction of the outside. "We know they're going to an airport, and they'll be making an overseas flight. There aren't too many of those. Shouldn't we tell the city watch and leave it to them? Or leave it to Henrietta? She should activate one of those military golems she showed us and send it." Noel gestured vaguely upward at the museum with a handful of weeds.
  12. I, Henrietta

    It worked? It worked! Of course it worked. Noel fetched a plaid handkerchief from his back pocket and dabbed away the perspiration that had gathered on his face. Nothing quite like a successful binding rite to herald his return to society. And no moralising? Why, he liked his companions better already! Or maybe they thought it was still Andes. It was all the same to him. "Honored child of Gaia." Noel nudged the severed hand out of sight with his foot, but kept the thorn in his arm as a precaution; he could feel the small wound throb. "Answer our questions and I will have your anchor to this world transplanted to a garden of your choice to live and thrive, and you will be free to... do you. For a lot longer than if we leave you here." No concerned was spared for the man that was. Kidnapper at best, terrorist at worst; Andes could stay possessed. He glanced at Sabiya. Her questions about covered what he wanted to know, except for a few small pieces. "What are the kidnappers' plans for the girl? If they're going to ransom her, I would rather go to the bank than give chase." Noel glanced at Tancred and lingered on his reloaded firearm. "Is anyone currently still inside the Foundation a part of the kidnapping?"
  13. New Challenger Approaches

    Nothing wrong with doing it in RP. Look forward to seeing you around the site!
  14. Newbie Needing Help

    Hi HiddenSecrets. Hope you slept well. If Velinquish's super cool reply left any unanswered questions, please let us know!
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