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Sigil Warden

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  1. Superlike!
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Spooky Mittens in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    Red Eyes
    It almost hit her.
    Almost, because the lack of immediate follow-through made her reaction a confused mess of backward scrambling instead of a coolly executed riposte. The strange machine amalgam's subsequent clumsiness had been so at odds with the speed at which it had approached that it genuinely confused the artificial neural pathways they'd installed in her specifically to circumvent the relative molasses speed of her biological responses. Unity began hucking when she should have been pausing and then jiving, and for her trouble watched the indistinct, grainy blades of nanomachines flit past her face in ultra HD from millimeters away. The upper spade missed the tip of her slightly upturned nose by nanometers. She allowed herself an entire quarter of a second for disbelief, bending backwards at the waist almost double as the natural extension of her flinch. To a baseliner, this sort of flexibility was nigh impossible. The Unity from scarcely four years prior would never have managed this, and she had been a gymnast of legendary stature.
    Nor would she have found such a vulnerable position desireable. But this new Unity... well. She was a work of art.
    Spine crackling as her collagen-rich connective cartilage tested its improved tensile and compressive strength, the thief's back arched to the floor, her balance resting back on a tripod of three slender fingers of her left hand - whilst her right arm pulled in defensively her broad hips torqued leftward, sending her right heel rocketing up into the unbalanced simulacrum's 'chin' on the exact rear edge of her riser, delivering a pinpoint wallop not unlike being struck with a jackhammer. Her foe still airborne by this upward jolt, and momentum unwasted, the turn of her body flipped her horizontal, landing on the offending foot only to deliver a second, even more devastating spinning heel kick with her left across the side of the head, a spiderwebbing crack at the point of impact lancing out across the entirety of the hostile machine's screen-like face to send it sprawling away before it might recover.
    Liquid fire burned in the girl's hips as she straightened, resettling onto the balls of her feet. Her daggers were back up, eyes narrowed and wary. Her breath steamed from her heaving chest. Damn. That felt... good.
     
    @Spooky Mittens
  2. Like
    Sigil Warden reacted to Spooky Mittens in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    The machine began to creep as Unity lost herself in her mind.  It had time for maybe one step before the clatter of Contrast hitting the floor snapped her back to reality.  Dozens of miniature cameras locked into various portions of Unity, her daggers in particular.
    This creature clearly sought to mimic life.  There were any number of ways a machine could be more efficient than a human body, and yet this one seemed content to limit itself to a specific range of motion.  It has two arms, two legs, a torso, and a head.  While it was true that it comprised itself of something much more durable and lasting than human flesh, it seemed to desire this form.
    So it would be really no surprise then, when it reshaped it's hands into a pair of long, double edged daggers rather akin to a cinquedea attached at the swivel joints of the machine's wrists.
    When Unity spoke to it, it attempted to speak back to her.  It made a series of electronic buzzing sounds, as well as a set of diagnostic beeps before it attempted to modulate actual speech.
    "At.  Ack.  Dayyyyy."
    It tried to copy Unity's words, but came off sounding like a Speak and Spell with low battery.  It seemed more confused than anything, but those blades on it's limbs seemed to make it's intent quite clear.
    With a flash of red light, the machine lurched forward with precision and intent, almost mirroring Unity's grace if not for a few locomotive errors.  However, as it approached the distance where it could be a threat, it hesitated.  The machine didn't seem to know what the next move was to be, and for a second longer than it should have, it simply waited.
    Then it attacked, cutting through the stale air with both of it's limbs, from left to right.
    @Sigil Warden
  3. Like
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Spooky Mittens in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    The Machine Spirit Within
     
    "Oh what the fuck."
    The expletive was a loaded shell, carrying incredulity, frustration, and horror in a singular, explosive outburst that rang out in the chamber. If only Unity could have formed its ire into physical harm against the golem-like machine mass posed ominously before her. Her vision was still drifting, the fleshy bits of her brain still only now comprehending parts of her whirling assault. Rapid, deep breaths lent her frame an exaggerated, almost comical fervor, like the idling animation of some video game heroine. She couldn't feel her hands, and the thief's brow was frozen into a concerning crease. Overly dense bundles of muscle fibers seemed to tense at random throughout her body, responding to parallel impulses that had only just arrived. An entire subroutine devoted itself to suppressing them, inundating her right eye in a blaring stream of orange warning messages.
    Time was not of the essence in a state of hyper-acuity. The sense of rush, of the immediate need to move, to act, refused to leave, confronted with the danger of the amorphous machine beast across the room - but it was moving so slowly. Or was it even moving at all? Unity couldn't tell. Instead, she thought about how she ought to be moving, but her spasms still needed at least another thousand milliseconds to cease ravaging her limbs. Whereas lucidly she might have despaired at the inability to act, the surreal awareness of every minute detail instead lent itself to daydreams while the digital hardware did the focused work of sorting out the confused return signaling of her nerves.
    So instead, she saw herself back out on the promenades of Absalom, far away from this pit of technological horrors... among flesh and blood. Kin through the shared experience of human needs, wants, and failures - and yet they too recoiled in horror just as she had from the deathless drones. Perplexed, the thief looked down at herself, her figment realizing in shock that her hands had contorted back on themselves, reacting to some unknown stimuli. They felt fine, but jerked and bucked grotesquely, broken in appearance but still functional. With sick curiosity, she carefully curled the joints of her fingers over the back of her right hand, balling it into a reverse fist. The crackling of her joints faded as a distant scream floated by, and she fought the urge to weep. Had they truly taken away the semblance of humanity? She wasn't even sure of every change that had been wrought. What good was having the body of a model and the mind of a supercomputer if beneath the surface it was threaded with inhuman lies?
    Contrast clattered to the ground, and the noise jolted Unity back into reality. Her left eye snapped down to look at the nerveless fingers of her right - she'd been mashing them open-palmed into her thigh, trying to bend them back on themselves. One of the orange warnings had changed to red. Grimacing, she carefully withdrew the hand, experimentally flexing each digit to make sure it still functioned correctly. It did. Instantly her dagger was back in her hand, the episode passing as quickly as it had come, and she coolly tossed the hair out of her face as she returned her gaze to the vaguely humanoid machine amalgam.
    "Well, are you going to attack me or what? I don't have all day."
    @Spooky Mittens
  4. Superlike!
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Spooky Mittens in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    Depths
     
    The rogue tensed up in the duct, immediately understanding on an intuitive level what was happening.

    Whatever malevolent force animated the alien devices down here, it was both pervasive and inevitable, consuming and re-appropriating flesh and tech alike into some hideous amalgam. A writhing, slithering, uncanny approximation of life. Were Unity of a more philosophical bent, she might have pondered if this was the same road she was headed down. Instead, she only felt the crushing grip of despair. How does one fight that which will not stay dead? A corpse had no business moving of its own accord. Her hands clenched and unclenched, torn between proceeding with the mission at her own peril, or the equally terrifying thought of facing her 'handlers' empty-handed.
    The scrambling cadaver had almost reached her by the time the drip of calming fire raced through her veins. Eyes widening once again, this time in hyper-acuity, the thief leapt into action. She darted into the room headfirst, her powerful legs uncoiling like a spring. Hardly feeling the impact onto the floor as she tucked over her own shoulder, she rolled and was already up on her feet once more, taking center stage in the midst of the room. Before the technozombie even managed to fully haul itself around, the whine of an electric motor signaled the cocking of Premiere - its tiny, pinpoint lenses in empty sockets likely to only comprehend an instant of a single red eye framed in black and white behind the laser sight - before a steel penetrator a foot long nailed its head to the wall in a burst of sparks and a sick crunch.
     
    @Spooky Mittens
  5. Superlike!
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Spooky Mittens in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    The thief watched in disbelief as the drone reformed itself, as if nothing had happened to it at all. Perplexed, she glanced down at the dagger in her hand, then back to the drone-gremlin, actively playing back the recorded frames of her stabbing the thing over her right retina to verify she wasn't hallucinating. By the time her vision refocused, it was already crawling into the ventilation system, squeezing its minimal bulk easily past the grate covering it, which seemed almost superfluous if the denizens of the vessel could just restructure themselves at will. Unity had been briefed on the subject in very vague terms - that while the derelict complex contained complex and advanced technologies, they had already been exploited and reverse-engineered.

    She could add that to the list of blatant lies they had told her. She'd never seen anything of the sort anywhere in the arcology - even the plasticizing nano-surgeons in her bloodstream (which was terrifying in its own right) needed some manner of central direction, and wouldn't knit tissues back together if her brain were to suffer catastrophic damage. They certainly wouldn't be resurrecting her like the undead into Zombie Gremlin Scissorhands.
    Nonetheless, known or unknown, she was down here to test her capabilities. Even if that meant carving up alien machines that were apparently immune to conventional destruction. With a frustrated huff, she sprinted after the little bastard, sizing up the duct as she went. It was nearly head-height off the ground, so simply pulling the grate free was out of the question. Still, at a glance, it seemed flimsy enough. Or at least, flimsy compared to the reinforced musculo-skeletal system Unity now boasted. Like an Olympic high jumper she launched herself up off the balustrade, crashing through the metal grate shoulder first, bearing the brunt of the impact on the padded epaulette of her bodysuit.

    She immediately regretted this decision. While her form had been impeccable on the way in, she was now wedged head-first and on her back into a tube scarcely wider than her own body.

    Unity swore loudly, kicking her legs about as she wriggled about onto her belly. This way she could at least see what the hell was happening. The zombie gremlin had already slunk further in, prancing about in what seemed like mockery. Why hadn't the fuckers in that boardroom given her a gun?!
     
    @Spooky Mittens
  6. Superlike!
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Spooky Mittens in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    Slay Together
     
    Unity skid to a halt, momentarily frozen as she sized up the drone. As it perked up to examine her, she too slowly straightened out, hands dropping tensed to her sides, fingers trembling ever so slightly. Her heart rate accelerated, unbidden, as the soft hairs at the back of her neck prickled. The looming mass of the alien superstructure bled away into the background, her eyes focusing intently on this unexpected denizen of the depths. Its piercing tone, as brief as it had been, seemed to carry on echoing in the back of her mind, held on until she wasn't even sure if the mental echo was real or not. Breath seemed... difficult. There was no obstruction, and yet she held it in anyway. Motion was dangerous - the standoff had to continue.
    Mankind's greatest enemy lurked in this woman of the future as it had in the hearts of the earliest hominids. Fear. Fear rules all.
    Fear of what might happen. Of what could happen. Of what would happen. Unity could feel each individual hair on her head shift in the unseen air currents that swirled past. She acutely felt what seemed like every single clasp and attachment point on her suit, digging into her skin - the way the holster bands cut into her thighs, the tension of practically every high-tech fibre straining across the curve of her chest. The persistent millimeter adjustments in her hip alignment to maintain balance on her heels and keep her gravity centered. None of this was relevant, but she could feel it all the same. Every single damn tendon and muscle in her body, individually tensing and relaxing, the map of them passively known to her now by some device she didn't understand. Her frontal cortex found the time to experimentally run a hundred contractions of a bundle of muscle fibers in her right cheek.
    Unity smirked a hundred times, and one second had passed.
     
    Her fingers twitched again. This time, they closed on polymer grips that felt strangely familiar, and certainty replaced fear in the surety of purpose. These were her daggers... her knives. Her closest friends. She loved them. If the calm of the kill had not settled upon her, her pulse would have quickened even more just to hold them once again. The shapes were different, the materials different - augmented, changed, reforged - but the soul of them remained, and she felt their resonance fill her palms. Blur and Contrast. 
    The drone cracked and sparked, nailed to the impact point on the wall where her kick had launched it. Contrast sat buried to the hilt through the strange amalgam that composed its body, its sensor array drooping to uselessness even as Unity's own diagnostics scrolled past with glowing reports of performance over expected benchmarks. It felt like she had been stabbing paper mache. She thought of how easy it might be to shred through flesh with those same hands, twisting and ripping it like pulled pork. The thought made her breath catch. She even felt the blush on her cheeks burning red as the capillaries dilated. Why? Why would she think that?
    Two seconds had elapsed.


    @Spooky Mittens
  7. Superlike!
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Vansin in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    Slay Together
     
    Unity skid to a halt, momentarily frozen as she sized up the drone. As it perked up to examine her, she too slowly straightened out, hands dropping tensed to her sides, fingers trembling ever so slightly. Her heart rate accelerated, unbidden, as the soft hairs at the back of her neck prickled. The looming mass of the alien superstructure bled away into the background, her eyes focusing intently on this unexpected denizen of the depths. Its piercing tone, as brief as it had been, seemed to carry on echoing in the back of her mind, held on until she wasn't even sure if the mental echo was real or not. Breath seemed... difficult. There was no obstruction, and yet she held it in anyway. Motion was dangerous - the standoff had to continue.
    Mankind's greatest enemy lurked in this woman of the future as it had in the hearts of the earliest hominids. Fear. Fear rules all.
    Fear of what might happen. Of what could happen. Of what would happen. Unity could feel each individual hair on her head shift in the unseen air currents that swirled past. She acutely felt what seemed like every single clasp and attachment point on her suit, digging into her skin - the way the holster bands cut into her thighs, the tension of practically every high-tech fibre straining across the curve of her chest. The persistent millimeter adjustments in her hip alignment to maintain balance on her heels and keep her gravity centered. None of this was relevant, but she could feel it all the same. Every single damn tendon and muscle in her body, individually tensing and relaxing, the map of them passively known to her now by some device she didn't understand. Her frontal cortex found the time to experimentally run a hundred contractions of a bundle of muscle fibers in her right cheek.
    Unity smirked a hundred times, and one second had passed.
     
    Her fingers twitched again. This time, they closed on polymer grips that felt strangely familiar, and certainty replaced fear in the surety of purpose. These were her daggers... her knives. Her closest friends. She loved them. If the calm of the kill had not settled upon her, her pulse would have quickened even more just to hold them once again. The shapes were different, the materials different - augmented, changed, reforged - but the soul of them remained, and she felt their resonance fill her palms. Blur and Contrast. 
    The drone cracked and sparked, nailed to the impact point on the wall where her kick had launched it. Contrast sat buried to the hilt through the strange amalgam that composed its body, its sensor array drooping to uselessness even as Unity's own diagnostics scrolled past with glowing reports of performance over expected benchmarks. It felt like she had been stabbing paper mache. She thought of how easy it might be to shred through flesh with those same hands, twisting and ripping it like pulled pork. The thought made her breath catch. She even felt the blush on her cheeks burning red as the capillaries dilated. Why? Why would she think that?
    Two seconds had elapsed.


    @Spooky Mittens
  8. Superlike!
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Vansin in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    The Sarcophagus was convenient. Conveniently located for a myriad of purposes: be that as picking ground for valuables, a place to prove one's mettle to a syndicate, or as a seemingly endless maw that swallowed runoff, sewage, and undesireables without a trace. Unity was beginning to suspect that were it not for the absolute mint that her new body had cost, she was solidly in that last category of waste disposal.
    Terms like 'aptitude testing' and 'operational benchmarks' had been bandied about in the stiff boardroom the day before, where the shapely thief had felt, for once in her life, woefully underdressed. Not one to shy away from indulging in her natural gifts, the severity of those suits, and the growing realization that she owed them a debt that could never be repaid in this life or the next, had made it such that she'd felt each executive's gaze bore into her like a chiseling laser. Each callous look stripped away her defenses until it felt like they could even see right through the minidress they'd laminated onto her for the occasion.
    A shiver bristled along her arms at the memory, despite the dense weave of the bodysuit gripping her like a glove. Insulated and resistant to a myriad of incidental hazards, her 'handler' had deemed the suit sufficient defense for her first foray, trusting that a laundry list of augmentations and subtle improvements would handle any further dangers. The very idea of the whole operation was a gnawing pit in her stomach; who could have imagined that being cuffed for a relatively petty theft would end in what amounted to slavery? Besides, she didn't feel any more prepared to handle whatever awaited her down in this god-forsaken pit - the speed of her assistant processor only made the time spent here seem to dilate. She could let her mind race through a thousand what-ifs at double the rate. Amazing.
    Unity grimaced as a particularly viscous drop of what had to be raw sewage fell a mere inch away from her face to splash to the crumbled concrete underfoot. Twenty minutes she'd been carefully descending into this glorified sinkhole, and all she'd found were abandoned hovels and piles of trash mixed with rubble. The first ring or so near the outer edge had been decently populated with homeless vagrants, as it was more or less the only place in Absalom where they'd not immediately be arrested and flogged, or worse. As she'd climbed and slid further in, however, only the scuttling of vermin seemed to indicate life of any kind. That was until she noticed the vague hum resonating the ground. Augmented ears had assumed it to be the background noise of the arcology towering above on all sides, but this was... not that. Machinery, yes, but while Absalom was a garbled mess of interference in the background, the sound from below was ordered and regular. Not quite a pulse, but distinct enough to be the heartbeat of some hibernating giant.

    She only saw it a moment before she tipped bodily forward, a cavernous, jagged hole that was no longer a crater, but simply a pit. In the eerie silence that pervaded outside of the low hum, Unity could actually hear the components of her ocular implants whirr like a whisper as they automatically adjusted to the near-total darkness. They stared down into the chasm, two pinpricks of red in a sea of black. Infrared showed the bottom a very dim red. Warmth, in a spot where the cold air ought to be collecting. A filter confirmed the convection of the air above, and Unity's exhalation became the loudest sound to meet this depth for some time. Without a word, she pitched forward, and tossed herself unceremoniously into the drop.
     
    A tiny HUD on her right retina ticked off a box on a list of tests she was instructed to run. She'd successfully managed to not shatter both legs on impact. The tracker did not need to know that she'd deployed a hardlight 'chute to turn the landing into a twinge in the ankles instead of ramming two polymer risers directly up into her heels. Pathfinding was already offline - one would think that for such a ruthlessly exploited resource the entrance to the Sarcophagus would be better defined. As it was, only the abandoned bulk of excavating machines, long rusted into uselessness, greeted her from the cylindrical gallery she now found herself in. Great bay doors to either direction, front and behind, lay askew and open.

    Some faint glow of light could be seen filtering from somewhere further along to the northwest. A good a place as any to start looking for something worthwhile. Unity sprinted after it, rubberized soles hardly making a sound on the odd, ceramic-like paneling that constituted a 'floor'.
    @Spooky Mittens
  9. Superlike!
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Better Than Gore in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    Slay Together
     
    Unity skid to a halt, momentarily frozen as she sized up the drone. As it perked up to examine her, she too slowly straightened out, hands dropping tensed to her sides, fingers trembling ever so slightly. Her heart rate accelerated, unbidden, as the soft hairs at the back of her neck prickled. The looming mass of the alien superstructure bled away into the background, her eyes focusing intently on this unexpected denizen of the depths. Its piercing tone, as brief as it had been, seemed to carry on echoing in the back of her mind, held on until she wasn't even sure if the mental echo was real or not. Breath seemed... difficult. There was no obstruction, and yet she held it in anyway. Motion was dangerous - the standoff had to continue.
    Mankind's greatest enemy lurked in this woman of the future as it had in the hearts of the earliest hominids. Fear. Fear rules all.
    Fear of what might happen. Of what could happen. Of what would happen. Unity could feel each individual hair on her head shift in the unseen air currents that swirled past. She acutely felt what seemed like every single clasp and attachment point on her suit, digging into her skin - the way the holster bands cut into her thighs, the tension of practically every high-tech fibre straining across the curve of her chest. The persistent millimeter adjustments in her hip alignment to maintain balance on her heels and keep her gravity centered. None of this was relevant, but she could feel it all the same. Every single damn tendon and muscle in her body, individually tensing and relaxing, the map of them passively known to her now by some device she didn't understand. Her frontal cortex found the time to experimentally run a hundred contractions of a bundle of muscle fibers in her right cheek.
    Unity smirked a hundred times, and one second had passed.
     
    Her fingers twitched again. This time, they closed on polymer grips that felt strangely familiar, and certainty replaced fear in the surety of purpose. These were her daggers... her knives. Her closest friends. She loved them. If the calm of the kill had not settled upon her, her pulse would have quickened even more just to hold them once again. The shapes were different, the materials different - augmented, changed, reforged - but the soul of them remained, and she felt their resonance fill her palms. Blur and Contrast. 
    The drone cracked and sparked, nailed to the impact point on the wall where her kick had launched it. Contrast sat buried to the hilt through the strange amalgam that composed its body, its sensor array drooping to uselessness even as Unity's own diagnostics scrolled past with glowing reports of performance over expected benchmarks. It felt like she had been stabbing paper mache. She thought of how easy it might be to shred through flesh with those same hands, twisting and ripping it like pulled pork. The thought made her breath catch. She even felt the blush on her cheeks burning red as the capillaries dilated. Why? Why would she think that?
    Two seconds had elapsed.


    @Spooky Mittens
  10. Superlike!
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Better Than Gore in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    The Sarcophagus was convenient. Conveniently located for a myriad of purposes: be that as picking ground for valuables, a place to prove one's mettle to a syndicate, or as a seemingly endless maw that swallowed runoff, sewage, and undesireables without a trace. Unity was beginning to suspect that were it not for the absolute mint that her new body had cost, she was solidly in that last category of waste disposal.
    Terms like 'aptitude testing' and 'operational benchmarks' had been bandied about in the stiff boardroom the day before, where the shapely thief had felt, for once in her life, woefully underdressed. Not one to shy away from indulging in her natural gifts, the severity of those suits, and the growing realization that she owed them a debt that could never be repaid in this life or the next, had made it such that she'd felt each executive's gaze bore into her like a chiseling laser. Each callous look stripped away her defenses until it felt like they could even see right through the minidress they'd laminated onto her for the occasion.
    A shiver bristled along her arms at the memory, despite the dense weave of the bodysuit gripping her like a glove. Insulated and resistant to a myriad of incidental hazards, her 'handler' had deemed the suit sufficient defense for her first foray, trusting that a laundry list of augmentations and subtle improvements would handle any further dangers. The very idea of the whole operation was a gnawing pit in her stomach; who could have imagined that being cuffed for a relatively petty theft would end in what amounted to slavery? Besides, she didn't feel any more prepared to handle whatever awaited her down in this god-forsaken pit - the speed of her assistant processor only made the time spent here seem to dilate. She could let her mind race through a thousand what-ifs at double the rate. Amazing.
    Unity grimaced as a particularly viscous drop of what had to be raw sewage fell a mere inch away from her face to splash to the crumbled concrete underfoot. Twenty minutes she'd been carefully descending into this glorified sinkhole, and all she'd found were abandoned hovels and piles of trash mixed with rubble. The first ring or so near the outer edge had been decently populated with homeless vagrants, as it was more or less the only place in Absalom where they'd not immediately be arrested and flogged, or worse. As she'd climbed and slid further in, however, only the scuttling of vermin seemed to indicate life of any kind. That was until she noticed the vague hum resonating the ground. Augmented ears had assumed it to be the background noise of the arcology towering above on all sides, but this was... not that. Machinery, yes, but while Absalom was a garbled mess of interference in the background, the sound from below was ordered and regular. Not quite a pulse, but distinct enough to be the heartbeat of some hibernating giant.

    She only saw it a moment before she tipped bodily forward, a cavernous, jagged hole that was no longer a crater, but simply a pit. In the eerie silence that pervaded outside of the low hum, Unity could actually hear the components of her ocular implants whirr like a whisper as they automatically adjusted to the near-total darkness. They stared down into the chasm, two pinpricks of red in a sea of black. Infrared showed the bottom a very dim red. Warmth, in a spot where the cold air ought to be collecting. A filter confirmed the convection of the air above, and Unity's exhalation became the loudest sound to meet this depth for some time. Without a word, she pitched forward, and tossed herself unceremoniously into the drop.
     
    A tiny HUD on her right retina ticked off a box on a list of tests she was instructed to run. She'd successfully managed to not shatter both legs on impact. The tracker did not need to know that she'd deployed a hardlight 'chute to turn the landing into a twinge in the ankles instead of ramming two polymer risers directly up into her heels. Pathfinding was already offline - one would think that for such a ruthlessly exploited resource the entrance to the Sarcophagus would be better defined. As it was, only the abandoned bulk of excavating machines, long rusted into uselessness, greeted her from the cylindrical gallery she now found herself in. Great bay doors to either direction, front and behind, lay askew and open.

    Some faint glow of light could be seen filtering from somewhere further along to the northwest. A good a place as any to start looking for something worthwhile. Unity sprinted after it, rubberized soles hardly making a sound on the odd, ceramic-like paneling that constituted a 'floor'.
    @Spooky Mittens
  11. Like
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Spooky Mittens in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    The Sarcophagus was convenient. Conveniently located for a myriad of purposes: be that as picking ground for valuables, a place to prove one's mettle to a syndicate, or as a seemingly endless maw that swallowed runoff, sewage, and undesireables without a trace. Unity was beginning to suspect that were it not for the absolute mint that her new body had cost, she was solidly in that last category of waste disposal.
    Terms like 'aptitude testing' and 'operational benchmarks' had been bandied about in the stiff boardroom the day before, where the shapely thief had felt, for once in her life, woefully underdressed. Not one to shy away from indulging in her natural gifts, the severity of those suits, and the growing realization that she owed them a debt that could never be repaid in this life or the next, had made it such that she'd felt each executive's gaze bore into her like a chiseling laser. Each callous look stripped away her defenses until it felt like they could even see right through the minidress they'd laminated onto her for the occasion.
    A shiver bristled along her arms at the memory, despite the dense weave of the bodysuit gripping her like a glove. Insulated and resistant to a myriad of incidental hazards, her 'handler' had deemed the suit sufficient defense for her first foray, trusting that a laundry list of augmentations and subtle improvements would handle any further dangers. The very idea of the whole operation was a gnawing pit in her stomach; who could have imagined that being cuffed for a relatively petty theft would end in what amounted to slavery? Besides, she didn't feel any more prepared to handle whatever awaited her down in this god-forsaken pit - the speed of her assistant processor only made the time spent here seem to dilate. She could let her mind race through a thousand what-ifs at double the rate. Amazing.
    Unity grimaced as a particularly viscous drop of what had to be raw sewage fell a mere inch away from her face to splash to the crumbled concrete underfoot. Twenty minutes she'd been carefully descending into this glorified sinkhole, and all she'd found were abandoned hovels and piles of trash mixed with rubble. The first ring or so near the outer edge had been decently populated with homeless vagrants, as it was more or less the only place in Absalom where they'd not immediately be arrested and flogged, or worse. As she'd climbed and slid further in, however, only the scuttling of vermin seemed to indicate life of any kind. That was until she noticed the vague hum resonating the ground. Augmented ears had assumed it to be the background noise of the arcology towering above on all sides, but this was... not that. Machinery, yes, but while Absalom was a garbled mess of interference in the background, the sound from below was ordered and regular. Not quite a pulse, but distinct enough to be the heartbeat of some hibernating giant.

    She only saw it a moment before she tipped bodily forward, a cavernous, jagged hole that was no longer a crater, but simply a pit. In the eerie silence that pervaded outside of the low hum, Unity could actually hear the components of her ocular implants whirr like a whisper as they automatically adjusted to the near-total darkness. They stared down into the chasm, two pinpricks of red in a sea of black. Infrared showed the bottom a very dim red. Warmth, in a spot where the cold air ought to be collecting. A filter confirmed the convection of the air above, and Unity's exhalation became the loudest sound to meet this depth for some time. Without a word, she pitched forward, and tossed herself unceremoniously into the drop.
     
    A tiny HUD on her right retina ticked off a box on a list of tests she was instructed to run. She'd successfully managed to not shatter both legs on impact. The tracker did not need to know that she'd deployed a hardlight 'chute to turn the landing into a twinge in the ankles instead of ramming two polymer risers directly up into her heels. Pathfinding was already offline - one would think that for such a ruthlessly exploited resource the entrance to the Sarcophagus would be better defined. As it was, only the abandoned bulk of excavating machines, long rusted into uselessness, greeted her from the cylindrical gallery she now found herself in. Great bay doors to either direction, front and behind, lay askew and open.

    Some faint glow of light could be seen filtering from somewhere further along to the northwest. A good a place as any to start looking for something worthwhile. Unity sprinted after it, rubberized soles hardly making a sound on the odd, ceramic-like paneling that constituted a 'floor'.
    @Spooky Mittens
  12. Like
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Fierach in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    The Sarcophagus was convenient. Conveniently located for a myriad of purposes: be that as picking ground for valuables, a place to prove one's mettle to a syndicate, or as a seemingly endless maw that swallowed runoff, sewage, and undesireables without a trace. Unity was beginning to suspect that were it not for the absolute mint that her new body had cost, she was solidly in that last category of waste disposal.
    Terms like 'aptitude testing' and 'operational benchmarks' had been bandied about in the stiff boardroom the day before, where the shapely thief had felt, for once in her life, woefully underdressed. Not one to shy away from indulging in her natural gifts, the severity of those suits, and the growing realization that she owed them a debt that could never be repaid in this life or the next, had made it such that she'd felt each executive's gaze bore into her like a chiseling laser. Each callous look stripped away her defenses until it felt like they could even see right through the minidress they'd laminated onto her for the occasion.
    A shiver bristled along her arms at the memory, despite the dense weave of the bodysuit gripping her like a glove. Insulated and resistant to a myriad of incidental hazards, her 'handler' had deemed the suit sufficient defense for her first foray, trusting that a laundry list of augmentations and subtle improvements would handle any further dangers. The very idea of the whole operation was a gnawing pit in her stomach; who could have imagined that being cuffed for a relatively petty theft would end in what amounted to slavery? Besides, she didn't feel any more prepared to handle whatever awaited her down in this god-forsaken pit - the speed of her assistant processor only made the time spent here seem to dilate. She could let her mind race through a thousand what-ifs at double the rate. Amazing.
    Unity grimaced as a particularly viscous drop of what had to be raw sewage fell a mere inch away from her face to splash to the crumbled concrete underfoot. Twenty minutes she'd been carefully descending into this glorified sinkhole, and all she'd found were abandoned hovels and piles of trash mixed with rubble. The first ring or so near the outer edge had been decently populated with homeless vagrants, as it was more or less the only place in Absalom where they'd not immediately be arrested and flogged, or worse. As she'd climbed and slid further in, however, only the scuttling of vermin seemed to indicate life of any kind. That was until she noticed the vague hum resonating the ground. Augmented ears had assumed it to be the background noise of the arcology towering above on all sides, but this was... not that. Machinery, yes, but while Absalom was a garbled mess of interference in the background, the sound from below was ordered and regular. Not quite a pulse, but distinct enough to be the heartbeat of some hibernating giant.

    She only saw it a moment before she tipped bodily forward, a cavernous, jagged hole that was no longer a crater, but simply a pit. In the eerie silence that pervaded outside of the low hum, Unity could actually hear the components of her ocular implants whirr like a whisper as they automatically adjusted to the near-total darkness. They stared down into the chasm, two pinpricks of red in a sea of black. Infrared showed the bottom a very dim red. Warmth, in a spot where the cold air ought to be collecting. A filter confirmed the convection of the air above, and Unity's exhalation became the loudest sound to meet this depth for some time. Without a word, she pitched forward, and tossed herself unceremoniously into the drop.
     
    A tiny HUD on her right retina ticked off a box on a list of tests she was instructed to run. She'd successfully managed to not shatter both legs on impact. The tracker did not need to know that she'd deployed a hardlight 'chute to turn the landing into a twinge in the ankles instead of ramming two polymer risers directly up into her heels. Pathfinding was already offline - one would think that for such a ruthlessly exploited resource the entrance to the Sarcophagus would be better defined. As it was, only the abandoned bulk of excavating machines, long rusted into uselessness, greeted her from the cylindrical gallery she now found herself in. Great bay doors to either direction, front and behind, lay askew and open.

    Some faint glow of light could be seen filtering from somewhere further along to the northwest. A good a place as any to start looking for something worthwhile. Unity sprinted after it, rubberized soles hardly making a sound on the odd, ceramic-like paneling that constituted a 'floor'.
    @Spooky Mittens
  13. Like
    Sigil Warden reacted to Better Than Gore in Absalom, the Arcology.   
    Geography
    The Arcology is a colossal megastructure comprised of scintillating agri-domes, elegant spires, and graceful monorails - encompassing a microsociety of about ten thousand souls. Its towering heights lord over the desolate remains of a once pristine alpine forest, the only point of light in the sprawling wasteland. Holographic advertisements loom over the churning industry of the surrounding badlands, acclaiming the virtues of this jewel of self-sufficient civilization.
     Organization
    Absalom is divided among its shareholders, with the position of owner and leader granted to the majority stake. While some maintenance of the overall structure is maintained by the owner, individual levels and wings of the arcology are the responsibility of their private holders. As such, interior aesthetics of one area may vary drastically from another.
    Because the fundamental right of a citizen is property, those that own no property, or whose property, including their life, is rendered forfeit by incurred debts, are stripped of citizenship and relegated to servitude and slavery until such a time as the debt is repaid. In reality, however, because a lack of means to protect one’s assets is commonly considered forfeiture, even those completing their contracted enslavement often immediately find themselves back in bondage just to be able to feed themselves.
    Free citizens, but whom own less than 1% of the arcology, are a fragile middle class that dwindles daily, and are only replenished by new arrivals to this futuristic ‘utopia’.
     Government and Politics
    Law
    Contracts rule all but the most informal of exchanges. Because there are no non-private adjudicators, private middlemen almost inevitably favor the party with greater influence in disputes regarding these contracts, making justice a hopeless pursuit for most. When adjudication fails, squads of private security forces are deployed, leading to brief but incredibly violent shareholder turf wars in which one party will attempt to seize the assessed debt it feels it is owed. The common result is total seizure of assets, to cover the ‘cost’ of the operation, and subsequent enslavement.
    Somewhat paradoxically, the average day is relatively peaceful and secure for the bulk of the arcology’s denizens, as the threat of wholesale destruction and the ubiquity of high-powered personal weaponry make most sane people strongly reconsider the use of physical force, or attempting an unlawful act. Nonetheless, criminal elements do exist, inseparably entwined into the fabric of the ultra-capitalist society, functioning as yet another tool for ambitious holders to undermine their peers.
     
    Foreign Relations
    Absalom's foreign relations are currently still formative, but are generally cordial. The owner recognizes that national governments, even those with inferior technology, command resource monopolies that a neofeudal city-state cannot hope to match in open conflict. Trade and diplomacy are conducted openly to import what little the arcology cannot produce on its own, and to market its own products far and wide.
     Military
    The Arcology’s armed forces consist chiefly of the private security forces hired and outfitted by the aggregate of the holders. However, the owner separately employs a full company of mercenaries loyal to herself, as well as a fleet of 200 semi-autonomous armored drones that can rapidly deploy anti-riot ordinance as well as lethal munitions if necessary.
     Economy
    Absalom's economy is a complicated mix of give and take.  It's a lucrative locale for companies or governments to contract out the labor necessary for product manufacture, being that labor is so cheap and available here due to the prevalence of indentured servitude.  In a way you could say that Arcology City's biggest export good is labor.
    Workers of all sort are exploited within the territory of Absalom.  Factory workers, laborers, programmers, and sex workers are the most common types.  A sizable portion of the population is under some contract or another, often the indentured servitude kind, binding them to a term of unpaid service.  These terms, and by extension the people for which they are made, can be bought and sold.
    In the sprawling slums that comprise the hinterlands around the main tower there are dozens of industrial sectors dedicated to the processing of raw materials.  These factories are populated largely by the lowest rung of Arcology caste, and as they are indentured their labor is sold cheaply.
    Moving within the tower, scores of programmers are bought and sold from one corporation to the next.  The trade of indentured servitude contracts is common with workers that have special skills. Another practice is for companies to own nothing but these contracts, selling or renting the rights to various corporations as freelance indentured servants.
    Absalom produces high tech and completed goods.  Anything from portable electronics, to medical prosthesis, or even fully functional life auxiliary Androids.  These kinds of goods are what most companies in Absalom sell abroad for money and goods. The main import of the city is raw materials and food stuffs, as these things are difficult to find or produce.
    If you can dream of something and there is a way for that thing to be manufactured then you can probably find it in Absolom.  Just don't think about the exploitation that built it and you can sleep easy.
     Canon and History
    Completed Threads
    History
    The origins of Absalom are hardly a secret.  While the average citizen might not be aware, anybody who goes out of their way to research the subject will quickly run across local folklore.
    Absalom is not a nation, not in the sense that a traditional nation is.  Rather, having no actual governing body, it is a microcosm of individual organizations attempting to live in proximity.  It is generally agreed between corporations that a certain respect for common law is necessary, but why do all of these groups choose to operate here?  The reason is simple, and it has a name; The Sarcophagus.
    The Sarcophagus is a structure that exists, buried deep underground at the very heart of Absalom.  The only portion of this structure that exists above ground is a vast open hole - a hole over which the main body of the city is suspended over.  It has been speculated that this structure, The Sarcophagus, is actually a ship from some unknown space faring civilization that crash landed in the wilds of Fracture.  Nobody knows for sure how it got here. Back when the city first formed, it was occupied by tomb raiders and grave robbers who went into this opening to look for treasure, and what they found was both wondrous and terrifying.
    The Sarcophagus was filled with autonomous machines, hyper advanced technology, unheard of metals, and most perplexingly it was also stuffed to the brim with the living dead.  They aren't Zombies, so to speak, but rather their organic components have been commandeered by the very technology that built their home. These early adventurers waded into the depths of The Sarcophagus.  Those lucky, or skilled enough to return came back with tech that had previously been unseen and unheard of. It was these few who began the very first corporations of Absalom.
    These days, ventures into The Sarcophagus are rare and dangerous.  It is less profitable than it was in the beginning as an understanding of the tech within has been reached.  With the ability to replicate the tech laying inside, it's seen as a net loss to send people inside, even if they do return alive.  Even so, it is estimated that a mere five percent of the structure has been explored with untold miles of corridors and Chambers laying unseen beneath the wasteland below, and around Absalom.
  14. Superlike!
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Better Than Gore in Fatal Seduction S2.   
    An intermission of what passed for silence in the small lounge intervened, the rogue cautiously straightening to standing in the dark. She couldn't find words to reply to the man's outrageous confession - it brought absolutely no balm to the mortal terror that had been gripping her a moment prior, and it washed over her so quickly she was still trying to process just what exactly had just happened. So instead she feigned a fumbling in the darkness to reach the fader switch on the nearby wall, even though she could see it perfectly well, and gradually restored the recessed lighting to the small room, a look of incredulity still frozen on her face.

    Then, as if a ton of bricks weighed on her shoulders toppled and slid off all at once, her neck slumped in relief, and laughter chimed from her chest. Her hand rose questioningly to her cheek, as she looked up at him, still laughing with an expression that read mostly as "Are you serious?!". Trying to stifle it with her fist did nothing - the chuckling continued to rise unbidden at the absurdity of it all. The famed crime boss Ryker Albrecht confessing his infatuation with her like some breathless schoolboy at a dance. She had to take a seat - it was all she could do to keep the tone from rolling into outright mockery as she gripped the leather armrest and let the giggling fits pass. Only when she had taken a deep breath did she look back up at him, her mouth still twisted into a grin she couldn't suppress, constantly threatening to break back into hiccuping laughter.

    "O-okay, Mister Albrecht. Ryker. I guess that puts us first name ba... basis. Ahem." The thief had to stop to prevent herself from giggling again. "It's really uh... sweet of you to say that, but you really scared the hell out of me. I don't know how I feel about my boss... crushing on me." Her smile drooped a bit, the coping mechanism of mirth finally starting to slip away, as she realized that she couldn't simply let him down easy and take her leave like he had suggested. Her mission required her to stay, and record episodes just like the one that was currently transpiring. While there was nothing overtly criminal about this particular action, it did paint the man as extremely brash... and also, judging from his face, quite high. This could be manipulated... as could, she realized, his fancy of her. That part made her heart sink a little. Increased favor was a double-edged sword that brought more confidence, but also more scrutiny. She'd almost outed herself just now with her acrobatics - how might she slip up later if he was always watching her?

    So naturally, she said something entirely the opposite of her feelings. "Maybe I'm in the wrong position then if you're going to steal me away from your customers, Mi - Ryker. I don't want to be the employee that makes you drive away the people paying the rent. I'm not petty, I will stay - I just want to feel safe, and right now..." She fixed him with a strangely distant and yet vulnerable look with her smoky eyes. "...I don't feel safe at all."
    @Better Than Gore
  15. Superlike!
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Better Than Gore in Fatal Seduction S2.   
    Shit.

    Thrown right into the maw of the shark tank, Unity froze up again as she felt what must have been every pair of eyes in the establishment swivel to face her like a turret, their curious gazes boring into her side and back like a powered auger. Her hands balled into fists, eyes growing wide as the place spun around her, suddenly overcome with vertigo and nausea. In that moment, she realized she really, really didn't want to be here... especially not dressed like this. With a lost, dilated look, she stared blankly at the stage and strobing lights, a few seconds stretching into multiple eternities of anxiety, the urge to cry and the need to flee vying with each other for dominance - until a gentle hand ran down her back, stilling her tensed muscles, loosening them and slackening her brow.

    A potent cocktail of mood stabilizers deployed directly into her nervous system, lifting her from the icy grip of fear into an aetherial far dimension, where she felt what might have been close to joy. Or maybe that was just her confusing relief with happiness. A practiced ease released her from her stage-fright, her tall heels rolling her hips into time with her song as she ascended the few stairs to the dais. Already, the dimmed lights and brief strobes shrouded her body in mystery, the silhouette broken only by the taut stretch of mesh over a perky chest and thick, fit rear. She'd ran blackglow through her frosty tips, lending her cropped hair an almost angel like halo under the UV backlights.

    I guess its time... to dance.

    An easy toss of the hair... a lean back onto the pole to bob her head easily to the thrum of the beat that both lit the senses and evoked primal emotions, letting the slow buildup move her body the ways that felt right. The rational part of her practice forgotten, she began to shift side to side with one hand back up against the metal, widening her stance with each rock of her hips to show off her toned legs. Strapped into 8 inch platforms, under normal circumstances the agile thief would have been hard pressed to do more than a basic strut in them, but this music had crawled into her ear and it moved her with a sensuality she'd only dreamed of sober. Her cropped little jacket, whose hem had barely cleared the base of her bust, came off almost immediately, revealing two glow in the dark circles under the black mesh of her shirt, bouncing along with her every move. The bright pasties winked at her audience, jiggling on each breast, as she spun abruptly on the ball of her foot and embraced the pole between them, dragging herself suggestively over the cool aluminum, sighing loudly with the kind of need that made every man in the room stiffen instantly.

    But the music was picking up, and she stalked out in front of the rotating pole now, her shoes drumming the podium in time to the bass, and waited for the brief voice sample that was the only warning to the drop.

    With abandon, in double time, she moved both erratically and yet with definite purpose, her legs always posing just right after a kick for a pigeon toed, suggestive forward lean or toss of the head, her arms lancing out only to run her fingers indulgently over her body a moment later, throwing out small beads of sweat as she did so. Intense heat radiated from her, as if with fever - a perfect euphoria that soaked her through. Yellow hardlight batons blossomed in her hands, though in the dark it seemed like she had pulled them from the tiny pockets of her booty shorts, and in a blur of neon they carved arcs of light around her writhing form. Some melody beyond the blasting, echoing bass overlaid itself, only in Unity's imagination, timing her erotic contortions into superposition over this simplistic baseline. Like a master ravebunny, she wove a tapestry of light around her in trails of white and yellow, her teasing flesh only visible in the briefest flash of a strobe above.

    But they wanted to see more than silhouette. She'd cut the little black jeans ahead of time - with a single wrench they tore off, baring her properly... allowing the shapely thief to release an ampoule of UV sensitive paint with a clench of her pelvic floor. Like an exclamation of climactic finality, it splattered out over the stage in a staggered dribble , licking across her thighs on its way down. Fingers trembling with exertion, she slumped back against the pole, dragging the glowing liquid up over the curve of her hips and up her sides, smearing it up over her bust and streaking it out in fading trails into the hollow of her neck with suggestive moans and splayed hands that pawed at her own body.

    When the music faded out and the lights slowly raised back to normal, all that was left was the sweat-drenched, slightly disheveled girl squatting at the base of the pole, the batons crossed between her legs, breasts heaving with labored breaths. However... she was smiling... a smile that quickly broadened into a shudder and a broad grin. She'd done it.... she'd actually done it.
     
    @Better Than Gore
  16. Like
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Vansin in Fatal Seduction.   
    The girl stooped to retrieve her discarded top from the floor, carefully tying herself back into the bikini while she listened, sensing that the interview was coming to an end. She left the coat lying neatly on the desk, leaning against it with her hip as she looked at Ryker, exhaling a brief laugh at his question.
    "Oh, that. I'd just bought a new phone and had to change the number. One sec, I've still not quite remembered it..."
    She slipped her fingers into the band of her little beltskirt, and pulled out what looked like a lighter - a small chrome case. But the device was far more interesting that that. With a pinch of her fingers on some hidden catch, the frame slid open lengthwise into the more familiar outline of a smartphone, generating a screen of light amber hardlight that she tapped at expertly with her thumbnail. The thing looked high-tech as hell, and expensive to boot... a toy the likes of which only the supremely wealthy or someone on the cutting edge of development might have. She pulled up her number on it for him, turning the illuminated screen towards him with a flick of her wrist so that he could take it down.

    "It's nice to hear you give your girls a chance to succeed, Mr. Albrecht. I can start sometime this week if you'd like..." Unity looked around her, re-evaluating the scenery one last time, before turning back to face Ryker with a soft smile. "I only have two questions - Will I be collecting my own tips? And do you have a theme you'd like me to keep for my outfits?"
  17. Haha
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Ataraxy in The Tournament of Reverie (T1e)   
    " Element Nega-Ergokinesis"

    Stop making up words you silly goose.
  18. Like
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from amenities in The Tournament of Reverie (T1e)   
    Not a Valucre regular, so my opinion is to be taken with a grain of salt, but I'd say using established story characters from a given franchise is probably frowned upon.

    Beyond that, the abilities are very vague and could either be impossible to challenge (I'm going to imagine that 5 instant charges of haste makes him move at like Mach 3 because anime) or completely ignorable based purely on how closely the opponent decides they want to adhere to the number values of damage potential.
    Basically, it looks like you are trying to cheese the system by frontloading a bunch of physical buffs that have no cast time, but by not putting any innate DP into them you intend to make them seem balanced. I for one, would counter this by simply referencing Atraxy's rule that every attack needs to have a reaction window available, and spear you through the throat with a quickdraw as you sped up to fighter jet speeds.
     
    My 2 cents.
  19. Like
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Ataraxy in The Tournament of Reverie (T1e)   
    It's not "This might snowball." it's "This will immediately become an insurmountable obstacle."

    Allowing only the winners to restock their ability uses immediately places them in a position to obliterate their depleted opponent. The only way that would work is if you made all the winners fight each other every other round, so strong is fighting strong, but we don't have enough people to do that.
     
  20. Like
    Sigil Warden reacted to Djinn&Juice in The Tournament of Reverie (T1e)   
    Im always seeking to improve my combat awareness eventhough the T1 format spooks me due to its inherently competitive nature, but dammit i need to get out of my comfort zone and smash some action figures together!
    Count me in as well!
  21. Like
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from supernal in The Tournament of Reverie (T1e)   
    It's not "This might snowball." it's "This will immediately become an insurmountable obstacle."

    Allowing only the winners to restock their ability uses immediately places them in a position to obliterate their depleted opponent. The only way that would work is if you made all the winners fight each other every other round, so strong is fighting strong, but we don't have enough people to do that.
     
  22. Like
    Sigil Warden reacted to Ataraxy in The Tournament of Reverie (T1e)   
    Aaaaah I gotchya.
    Uh, yeah, that part is currently just approved on a case by case basis. It lets attacks gain a "unique" feeling to them since players get to add a little extra spice and could technically be abused, but there are so many rules already that whenever I wrote something for the notes section it started to feel really crowded. Guess we'll see if my good faith expectations holds up or not lol
     
  23. Like
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Fierach in Fatal Seduction.   
    It was amazing how, despite the culture shock of post-modernity, certain things the thief had learned never changed. The best way to gain access to a place you ought not to be was to act like your presence was the most natural thing in the world. That being said, this was still easily one of the more brazen ventures she had ever undertaken... at least in the context of making herself known to her mark. It also carried a considerable amount of self-consciousness the attractive thief was not used to feeling.
    The sensation of eyes following her was not a new one - the woman would have been infamous for her predilection of wearing less than functional clothing if she wasn't a ghost. This time, though, it carried that stigma that she felt in her very being the same way she knew the men watching her understood innately. Exotic dancer. Stripper. Escort. It changed the entire dynamic. It leeched the full confidence in her step, and she almost tripped over the club's threshold. Or perhaps it was just that she wasn't used to wearing platforms.
    She was here to interview as an entertainer, and she certainly looked the part. Far from her usual stylish urban chic or even the punkish street look she had started to favor recently, the rogue was dressed in a tiny metallic silver triangle bikini that complemented her shocking white hair. Bridal gauntlet-style armwarmers of iridescent silver nylon connected to a taut choker around her throat via a pair of short garters, and her hips sported a flouncy belt-skirt of the same material. Her long legs tottered along on completely transparent 6 inch platform heels, their length caught up in a loose fishnet stocking weave, the bands of which sat snugly nestled into the fat of her thighs. Her usual armaments were absent, as their presence would clearly alert everyone to her intentions. Instead, she thanked the merciful gods that the bouncer had been more interested in palming her rear than investigating the slight bump of two throwing knives clipped under the band of her stockings.
    As the girl picked her way among the tables, she slipped out of reach of more than one pair of questing hands, led to the back by one of the imposing guards stationed about the place, leading her to a private lounge in the back with a single stage and the very man she was here to see. Ryker Albrecht. Whatever he thought of his enterprises, more than one person was interested in seeing him deposed from his throne of business. Some of those people were law enforcement with little qualm about utilizing criminal elements against themselves. So here she was, to glean whatever could be taken from this man, and ingratiate herself until enough information was ready to be able to prosecute.

    What the authorities had not counted on was that the pretty thief had never once danced on a stage pole... or that her acceptance of the job was not a willingness to return to the right side of the law.

    She leaned seductively on the door frame, and cast her painted eyes into the dim lounge. "Mister Albrecht? I'm Unity. I'm here for the interview." Her voice was quiet, scarcely above a whisper over the dull pound of music from the main club.
    @Better Than Gore
  24. Thanks
    Sigil Warden reacted to Ataraxy in The Tournament of Reverie (T1e)   
    Notes:
    I scaled up innate DP from 1.5-2 and 2.5-3 just to make it easier while doing in game calculating. We'll see whether that .5 DP increase messes with how fast the fights progress or not.
    Happy New Year everyone! As it's now 2019, I'm asking that people start making and submitting their ability templates for review. I'm always here if you'd like to bounce ideas off me or want to check to see if you're doing something right. I'm sure most templates will only need a couple tweaks. First time using a new ruleset and all.
    ALSO!! I know it can seem like a lot for people who are doing this for the first time, but it's really not that complicated. The longest part is creating the character sheet template. But, once that's done, you never have to do it again lol (I also think it's one of the funnest part though >.>)
    Feel free to ask questions here as well! I'm more than happy to answer them. 
    Right now the tournament is looking like it's going to be Round Robin. Not really enough people for an elimination type. 
  25. Haha
    Sigil Warden got a reaction from Ataraxy in The Tournament of Reverie (T1e)   
    My body is ready.
    As is Unity's.
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