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Found 9 results

  1. It was such a thoughtlessly cruel trick the mind played on itself. He'd woken and in the fugue which comes when transitioning from the dream world to a waking life, Emilio turned in his bed and expected to see his wife there, his mind already steps ahead thinking how to entertain the children for the day, no wait aren't they grown now?, no wait – then Emilio remembered there is no more wife, no more children, and he's alone. He remembered the deep bitterness spiderwebbing from his heart into every facet of his physical person. He remembered the small relief, the slight dulling of that sharp edge, that came hand in hand with the memory that he had exacted all of the vengeance he was capable of wringing free from his enemies and now the only thing left for him to do was . . . live. Just live whatever was left of his life. After a shower, and some coffee, and a light breakfast of an egg and a bowl of oatmeal and room temperature tea, Emilio felt much better about the prospects of the day. He set about clearing space in and out of his home to open it up for anyone who thought to show up. # # # just outside of Chesterfield Emilio's final touch was the arranging of folding chairs in a perimeter around his backyard. He lived on the outskirts of the city, outside of its literal walls but within the municipality of Chesterfield and was proud to call himself a citizen. The builders used a form of geomancy to grow and form his house which would have been familiar to the wildlighters of Taen but its own flavor. His tree-house had its doors thrown open, food laid on rectangular tables, the aforementioned chairs strategically placed about for anyone to wander by and kick up their feet, and even party games (yes, that's a bob-for-apples bucket in the corner). OOC thread Emilio sat himself down with a sandwich and waited to see if he was going to have any company. Use as a reference, not as a prescription Attribution: Deevad
  2. Tibale is sitting quietly in the Sharpmate Noodle Shop. Sure, this isn't his first time here. Far from it, in fact. However, sometimes everything old seems new again. And right now, everything feels very new to him. He is sitting at a table in the corner. The table is big enough for two, maybe even three or four people if some chairs are brought from elsewhere. His dull blue eyes flick over the people coming and going. No one is going to rush to meet him, as there is no meeting on his schedule. Nor is he waiting for anyone. People can confuse his situation with either or, because who eats alone with two chairs at the table? Right now, Tibale is leaving everything to fate and the chef working right now. Hopefully, the latter could sate his hunger in a tasty way. Fighting off nerves, Tibale reaches inside his coat and pulls out a hexagonal object that barely fits in the palm of his hand. A metal hinge on the back creeks as his thumb flicks it open. A tiny “click!” dances into the air, but is easily drowned out by the usual sights and sounds. Inside is a simple compass with some ornate design work with the lettering and directional hatches. The little object brings comfort to him. Over the last few years, the compass is nearly as vital as the sword resting next to him. The little object makes the world feel smaller. Sometimes that's needed. It's a little reminder, too. Like a “You are here!” sign, reminding him of his location and where to go. The leather clad fingers holding the object's back open, push the object close. Another “Flick” is drowned out by the hustle and bustle. A second later, the object is returned to the inside pocket. Breathing out, Tibale settles back in his seat. He's trying to get comfortable. Sure, he feels like a stranger in a strange land, but it'll pass. This is home. If any looks are shot his way, he'll give a simple nod to the person. A way to say, “I see you” without being overly rude. If anyone waves to him, because sometimes people can be overly friendly, he'll wave back. Again, everything is in fate's hands. His order greets the table. Steam weaves through the air and it smells good. Taste can be another thing, but it is better than dry rations. Simple is best sometimes, and Tibale's order is noodles, simple spices, a protein from some animal that tastes like chicken and a few local veg. “Thank you,” Tibale says and offers a soft smile. The server leaves him be and he looks alone again. At least there is a meal to join him now. Gathering the first bit up, Tibale takes a tentative taste. Everything in his face turns quizzical with the deliberately slow chews. A second later, the face soften as he nods with approval. To him this is more than just “Okay.” It's really good! How the day will go, even he doesn't know. That's what makes today a curious thing. At least the noodles are his friends in this brief moment.
  3. Only the cruelest form of charity grounds itself in bare necessity. One more day, such a giver promises (while dispensing his change). One more, then back to business. Better to wince and give less, broadcasting with sidelong glances the useless guilt that plagues the action, depending on some other passerby to supplement the still-inviting beggar's cup. Better, even, not to give at all and affirm thereby the great indifference, its every representative more unexceptional than the last; such action proves no disgrace to charity (since it isn't an attempt at charity, to begin with). To give more than what is needed defines the virtue of generosity, perfectible by acts of charity insofar as each such act demonstrates an attachment to people and not to things. Amelia enjoyed the company of the generous. She trusted their sense of proportion, a combination of discernment and moderation to which she could defer when her habits of thought proved too cumbersome to gracefully field the world of common interest. Amelia did not always find it easy to be generous. But, whatever her occasional lapses, she did possess (for now) the generosity required to accept the ordinary cruelty involved (for now) in the universal satisfaction of bare necessity. The word for this satisfaction was economy, those predisposed to bestow it (but nothing else) referred to as economical, and the science dedicated to its refinement was called economics. Around Amelia, Chesterfield natives exchanged their opinions on topics as varied as the weather (it was a gorgeous morning, wasn't it, look at the water), the concept of sea-steading (what makes a commercial entity sovereign?—if we start a business, do we get a sea-stead?), and the latest disaster scenario hosted at the Silver Screen (speaking of disaster, what about that production value?). The Chesterfield boardwalk didn't seem like an outgrowth of pure economy, but that didn't necessarily mean it wasn't. She'd arrived in the city the night prior and checked into an unlicensed adventurer's hostel marked by a sign that shouted in red neon letters "Mega-Hostile Murderhobo's Mega-Hostel" (with another smaller sign beneath it: Murder Ho, Beau!). She had slept well enough that it had taken the sound of her roommate yelling at his sentient, autonomous sword to wake her. What do you mean, the man had shouted, you just 'hiccuped' a singularity into my pocket dimension while you were sleeping? You know that's where I keep one of the omniverse-class fractals of my soul. You could have bruised me. Amelia had left the hostel directly after. After grabbing a bite at a karaoke bar still open from the night before, Amelia had decided to acquaint herself with Chesterfield before pursuing her original business in the city: an appraisal of the city's Public Education System. The boardwalk signaled the end of her wandering. The South Sea stretched before her like a language sufficient for self-expression, which nonetheless struggled to find purchase on a surface more solid than itself. Amelia realized she would be spending more time in Chesterfield than she had anticipated. There was so much potential for the truth to thrive here, where art, science, politics, and love seemed on the verge of combining to form one seamless thing. If Amelia knew anything, she knew this. She could never have imagined a city with so much room for good. Or, and this is why she would have to stay, so much capacity for good's byproduct, evil. OOC thread
  4. Music OOC Saturday, 6 June, 599 Call me Tyra. Some time ago, having grown disenchanted with the lands of this planet, after crawling across fields and climbing atop mountains, navigating through deserts and negotiating with forests, I thought I would kiss the shore goodbye and dip my feet in the waters of the world. As left leg left land, crossing the space between solid and liquid, right leg bid farewell to pier and met boot upon deck—and like that, I was gone with the wind. I discovered, like an explorer braving the boundless horizon, how the sea can wash one’s soul of misery. When grey clouds loom overhead and darkness paints the sky; when not one drop is held back as the rains cascade with abandon; when a damp blanket coils around my body, cold and grim, and I shiver as I am submerged up to the brim of my nose—then, I remember that I am already floating on the ocean, it cradles me like a baby in a crib, and my woes and worries are lost like salt in a gust. What can one wonder when they savor such serenity? When the tranquility of the waves surrounds you like dancing grass in a rolling meadow, greeting one another in the breeze like rustling leaves of an eternal wood, it challenges the mind to think of anything else besides bliss. What, then, is one to do when that joy is suddenly robbed from you like a child from a mother’s womb? In the sweet kiss of summer, as the morning sun beckoned me awake, never would I have expected that day to be the darkest day of my voyage. Few things are so terrifying as to enter the maw of the ocean’s titan, watching the world soar above you as you sink into the abyss, with hollowed howls haunting your descent into doom. After being spat out by the frozen depths hiding beneath liquid sapphire, I breathed in a new clarity. I flew beyond sea and ship, my momentum a constant craft, like a bird whose wings could carry it across the sky for months on end. The sea, I had learned, was a world beside a world. I was now learning that the sky was the world above both. The wind that had once decided the fate of my sails was now little more than an ocean of air to conquer; the clouds would part before me like frothing waves around a prow. Airships, the gargantuan gems that glided above Genesaris, giving birth to glory in the old times and returning in the wake of war—well, I had one of my own, and with it I went gallivanting across the welkin. When you stand on the deck of a ship at sea, you can feel the spray upon your skin, taste the salt on your lips, smell the sulfur and the brine, hear the murmur of the ebb and flow, see the royal blue of the aquatic kingdom. On the deck of a ship in the sky, things are a little different. The world is beneath you now, not beside you; the earthen lands that once held your feet before planks of wood ever did were no longer silhouettes whispering on the horizon. Those mountains were now mole hills, castles and their lords were naked behind their walls, cities were like mazes viewed from above, and those birds who once threatened to repurpose your poop deck now glided beside you as though to guide you along as a fellow flier. On the sea, I had fins that carried me. In the sky, I have wings. I want you to know something else. I was born upon the land—never mind who my parents were—but I never truly came to life until I stretched my arms from the bow above the water, and I never truly lived until I leaned over to watch the world from the stern beneath the clouds. Those moments, if they could be captured in a bottle, I would trade bottles of Orisian wine and Terran whiskey for each one of them. Those moments opened my heart and my lungs and kept me from dying slowly. Far from such a fate, I am alive. I am Tyra Delane, Captain of the Wildwind, and some would call me the same. Wild Tyra, Captain of the Wind, for I let it propel me across the sea and the sky in an endless journey that knows no bounds. Yet, a name is meaningless if there is no life behind it. As I write these words, watching ink seep onto paper, I am all too aware of the life that is seeping out of my soul, and the fear of what might become of my name is as real as hot sand beneath bare feet. It is thus that I return to the land that birthed me, that I might rest upon the soil that was my bed amid the trees that once stood tall as my sentries. It is a comforting thought, to lie down and close my weary eyes, watching my life unfold like a letter read only once. Alas, my sleep shall be short, for this is by no means the end of my journey but a new chapter to steer it forward. Where I go, there is another life that slumbers; a vessel yearning to awaken with vigor for the voyage. Oh, how I have lived on my ship! Sea ship, airship—but have I really lived? I have held a husband, never had a child—is that what it takes to really live? I do not know, but I may yet soon find out; in a manner, at least. The trees call me home, a forest awaits, for in the region of Chesterfield is a ship that stands as tall as a tree, and it is my life’s goal to set that ship free, like a bird from a cage or a fish from a tank. Freedom is not simply a state of being—it is a vessel to possess and a horizon to chase; an ongoing war where victory is decided with wheel and compass. This is my substitute for sword and pistol. With a groundbreaking boom, Uhltoria lifts a battle fleet into the air; I quietly take to my ship. This should not be surprising. If only they knew, almost everyone at one point or another shares my same sentiments of the sea and the sky. There is an explorer in each of us, a wild wind within all of us, a beating heart and breathing lungs that beckon the brain and the body to sail and to soar and to never look back but forward. Always forward. Land, water, air. Sea ship, airship—bioship. Forward, always. Chesterfield Use only as aesthetic reference Music OOC The Captain of the Wind The sun was a beating pulse that morning. Summer was creeping right around the corner, searching for a crack to break through, with golden rays glimmering upon the pastel-hued marble of Valucre with a sadistic smile of soon-to-be-baking-you. Some loved it, some loathed it—that budding breeze beside blossoming foliage, bright and warm and lively; that sweltering heat that parches the throat, gnaws at the skin and oozes sweat. With four seasons and four or more reasons to counter them amid such prevalences as genius loci, Lagrimosa was a bounty of climates. Not just physically, but socially, politically and economically. For instance, take Chesterfield. This morning, amid a river breeze that drifted mercy toward the throngs, the sun held sway over the steaming metal that the blacksmith dipped into the forge. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and bid his apprentice to acquire their purchase from the general store. That apprentice dipped further into dichotomy, departing the shade of a stifling shop into the open air to brave the sun and the masses beneath it. He passes by an artificer whose creation came from the blacksmith’s craft, now on his way to insure it with a Titansinger representative before selling it to a Genesaran buyer, courtesy of being ferried by the Casper Shipping Company. One of their representatives is already on site to represent the Law of Salvage in a legal dispute concerning the renovation of a Renovation ship that sunk in the Sea of Regrets. Sunken but surprisingly whole, hoped to be lifted from the depths and turned into a museum that the prowling tourist influx would dive toward and sink their money into. Or, at least, it seemed as much to one woman as she walked the streets of the city. Her eyes were on the passers-by, the denizens of the urban clutter pacing to and fro, or hollering out prices from stalls and leaning against buildings to smoke their pipes and trade sorrow with laughter. Pigeons pecked the crumbs off the spacious square, competing with daring ducks from the river, and children befriended one another as locals mixed with foreigners to feed the birds with food to spare. Kids laughed the same way, the woman thought as she watched them play. Adults were different; they had a unique laugh for every occasion, and some individuals had the kind of laugh that you learned not to trust. This duality of sameness and difference, it translated to the cityfolk and their habitat like water into wind. Streets led to streets that led to the same streets; people lined those streets who might have been glimpsed walking the other streets only moments ago, their footfalls a forgotten echo that all sounded the same; the goers of to and fro lining up like soulless soldiers to do the same work today as yesterday, go home at the same hour, wake up in the same spot, repeat the same task. As she watched them, her hands pocketed amid the crowds whose arms flailed, her lips a rigid line where others were smiling or frowning, Tyra pitied the people of this city. So many of them, all of them so bound to the same land, the same routine, day after day after day. She sighed as she walked on, savoring the solace of her own routine that was never quite so. She might lay in the same bed every night, but her ship was never in the same spot, and every day was a new day that called for a different adventure even on the same ship. As the captain paced onward throughout the streets of Chesterfield, her gaze finally graced her quarry. The Silver Screen advertised itself with one flashing bulb after the other, but it was the pub beside it that drew the elf’s eyes as she approached The Purple Pig with a grin. She might have forgotten, had somehow remembered, and was positively amused at an all too familiar sight. There, standing at the stepped entrance of the pub, was a burly fellow with a grey head and yellowed tusks, one hand gripping a tankard and the other a club that looked like a giant mallet. Jolliver? The name sprung to mind as Tyra looked the figure up and down. No...surely not. “Morning,” she spoke while ascending the steps. The wereboar said nothing, leaning lazily against his weapon as he guzzled from his tankard. He clearly was more decoration than defender. “Jolliver?” Tyra determined. The wereboar cocked a brow, looked her up and down, and snorted. “Never heard of him.” With that, Tyra shrugged and moved past, opening the doors to The Purple Pig, where a waking pub traded sounds with a metropolis, and the captain finally felt like she was home.
  5. (OOC Thread) Chesterfield, a town that until a few short weeks ago Tharun hadn't even heard of dispite being practically neighbors with his homeland. A city with a sky that wasn't just made of more city. A city of possibilities. In the time since he'd literally stumbled into the wider world Tharun had been at a loss at what to do now; as much as the wonders of that not-quite-a-place had been amazing to him, it hadn't felt right. He needed to get back to Valucre, back to helping people. Of course, to do really do that he'd need money. Elder Company, that name had been passed to him by the Tavernkeeper. Mercenaries, yes, but more focused on salvage than war. He could work with that. Probably. Chesterfield was just a portal away, so if he found himself in another bad situation he could probably just duck back out. With his few possessions gathered and confidence fortified with one last drink, Tharun journeyed to Chesterfield and sought out the Guildhouse. He wasn't sure if the recruiter's look at him were skeptical or amused. “Hi I'm here to-” He paused for a second, tripping on his own words “I was told your guild is looking to hire on for some kind of salvage run?”
  6. Attribution: Allwhitebackground Translation: of wind Region: Chesterfield Basic Premise Note that this is a setting thread, not a hub thread. Roleplay in this setting should take place in its own thread with a Chesterfield tag. A forest where the trees are living bioships. When they reach budding age, they can be bonded with, boarded, and used as functional transport. As these ships are alive and intelligent, bonding usually requires some sort of psychic exchange or ritual which establishes a social contract (or "agenda") between ship and captain (and crew, as applicable). They can’t simply be taken at will and you may find that the ship with the build you desire does not share your temperament. Bioships are resilient, able to generate their own power, and are highly maneuverable. However they do not come with systems beyond self-defense and life support. Bioships are capable of healing their damaged parts - it takes them longer to heal than to repair mechanical ships in some scenarios as well as the opposite in others, and this also means there's no need to carry spare parts or have an on board mechanic (an onboard druid however . . . ). Different species of trees present different levels of complexity to their intelligence and different personality traits, which affect their shape and function, but across all species a badly treated ship will either fly away or wither and die. Juveniles All ships which can be acquired by player characters are at the Juvenile class as almost all matured bioships are perfectly happy where they are right now thank you very much. This accounts for the following traits: 5 person capacity - compartments will vary depending on the species of tree bonded with but common layouts include: a bridge and deck, crew cabins, medical bay, cargo are, recreation room, and mess hall. International flight capacity Expansion Requires an Armor class amount of any available Metamaterial and adds an Attribute that is related to the material. Examples include: Any material to add capacity for 2 extra team members Auranite for directed energy weapon OR shield (not both) Aquatanium to make it submersible LRI for Stealth Novonium to allow airtight and adaptable hull for space travel. Also requires Nith so that electrical phenomena doesn’t disfigure its shape
  7. Basic Premise This will be a system for establishing and growing renown for specific characters and specific traits. This should allow for a single character to gain global recognition for multiple titles as well as allow a player to grow the renown of multiple characters. The base for this is Chesterfield in Lagrimosa, so the first few tiers will always be relative to Chesterfield before there's enough momentum to say it broke out onto the world stage. So a single character can have Global renown as a Berserker and Major renown as a Burglar (see examples below). Progress is tied to canonized threads. which means you must effect change and provide opportunities for change. Progress threads need to be Class B minimum (1+ players; 2+ pages). Axes of Renown Don't lose the forest for the trees AKA don't fence yourself or others in with pedantic reasoning and allow circumstances to add context to any specific word choice or claim. Axis 1: Order or Chaos Example: An officer breaking up a chop shop is Order. A vigilante doing it is Chaos. Axis 2: Constructive or Destructive Example: Humanitarian services are Constructive. Militant intervention is Destructive. Axis 3: Achievement - what they’re getting known AS Or FOR Example: “Berserk - known for their strength” “Burglar - known for their stealth” Progression Ladder Folk: Chesterfield recognition. Equivalent to there being one or two rumors about your character in a specific area or neighborhood. Minor: Chesterfield recognition. Equivalent to there being multiple rumors and public consciousness about your character in the city. Major: Chesterfield recognition. Equivalent to there being stories, songs, urban legends, about your character in the city. When you reach this level you may get a news article about your character. National: First level of renown to break out of the city. Feats, accomplishments, and title recognized in Lagrimosa mega-cities (for specific enclaves it is up to their managers but with an eye towards collaboration, should have plenty of traction all the way around) International: Recognized in Lagrimosa and one other continent (specify which one) Global: Recognized in all major continents of Valucre. Tracking Renown will be tracked here. Players can make a single post for their characters and update them over time. Players are asked to wait until a character has at least Major renown before posting another character. The hope is that the axes and count for each will gives us a little context to add to the title at a glance without shoving the character into any particular archetype. This can also be easily slotted into a character sheet for reference. Name: Robin Hood Renown: Major Law (1); Chaos (2) Constructive (2); Destructive (1) Title: Robbing Hoods (or "Reclaimer" if you want to be less funny) - Goes around thieving from thieves to help the masses
  8. | Attribution: James Gilleard Note: The map is a reference document, not an exact model. Locations will be updated with player activity. Aesthetic: Science fantasy; urbanized fantasy; western [1] Governance Governance in Chesterfield is a flawed democracy. It is a sovereign nation-state with metropolitan infrastructure. Elections are fair and free and basic civil liberties exist but so do structural issues, most notably that the major financial and legal instruments exist in the hands of a small coalition. Examples of these flaws in action are the nonviolent suppression of political opposition and critics, such as by way of suing until bankruptcy or outright buying of opposition outlets. Chesterfield is managed by unitary parliamentary republic with a unicameral legislature (I'm not a political scientist but examples of include: Finland, Ireland, Israel, and Singapore). In practice this functions like a small coalition corporation. The manager is the chairman, the board are in charge of the legislative chamber, and both are placed there by direct election. When facing off against other foreign governments Chesterfield makes use of strategic alternative means and soft power over violence. They will tie aid to entities to favorable policy change or manipulate market pressures to trigger bankruptcy. On the individual level if an extreme crime cannot be solved by asset forfeiture or community service, criminals are punished by magical feedback (charms, debilitating curses like blindness or deafness or madness, geas, etc). While this is a controversial practice, especially since the introduction of the Safeguard act, the practice is not illegal inside of Chesterfield's sovereign border. Economy Although around for a while, Chesterfield was fully established as sovereign during the so-called "faction wars", which saw a number of locations established as enclaves for an array of complex reasons. It's macro-economy is supported primarily via trade relations with specific cities, townships and villages. It's micro-economy is fueled by a combination of bounty hunts and warrant fulfillment [2], artifact resale as exercised through the law of salvage, and an outsized national market capture of adventure related businesses - utility shops, artificers, insurance, secure storage and medical facilities find a strong economic foothold in Chesterfield with a large customer base and regulations which protect these interests. It is common practice for commercial contracts to be enforced by magical means. Chesterfield is further exploring the concept of seasteading (making permanent dwellings at sea) micro-sovereignties for political and commercial purposes. Recently, the government has also began emphasizing tourism as a major economic pillar within the nation-state. More details on that below. Social For businesspeople, entrepreneurs and captains of industry, Chesterfield is a chaotic examination of jungle law, where the chief criterion by which companies live or die is utility and market capture. For everyday citizens however, the colors used to paint the picture of Chesterfield are idyllic and pastel-hued.A common pillar of the local worldview is the acceptance of transience and imperfection, a sort of "go-with-the-flow"ness whose range in its people can be imagined as the differences between a slow, steady river, a monsoon, and the steady drip which will chip at stone over centuries. Although Chesterfield's past might span more than a millennia, its cultural artifacts are transient. The people have historically emphasized creative activities (painting, poetry, dance, etc) to balance against enterprise as they do to this day, but the results of that play were treated as the results of games often are - the pieces put back into their chest until next time, and the intangible moment shared only by the players involved. The current trend in Chesterfield art is towards expressionism, seeking to capture and convey moods and ideas rather than realistically capture people and events. Although a disproportionate amount of the population sings, dances, and paints, there is no such thing as commercial art in Chesterfield. This is something which the new government hopes to change. The people of Chesterfield enjoy going to the beach, surfing, sailing, diving, putting on informal plays, improvising songs and little ditties, and sketching. Public buildings go beyond the scope of libraries and parks to include karaoke bars, cafes, bowling alleys, and an attractive boardwalk. Landmarks and Institutions People, places, things of import in Chesterfield. Every single one of these present inroads for characters to generate activity in Chesterfield. I will specify those below. Casper Shipping Company: A small shipping business which exports and imports goods and acts as a courier service to transport people and things. Inroads: Attacking or protecting a transport vessel for raw materials; becoming a naval security expert; becoming a micro-merchant using CSC’s transport vessels De Viento: A forest of bioships. Elder Company Guild: A treasure-hunting guild that makes a primary portion of its profits by plumbing the depths of the chaos ruins Bi'le'ah, and the Limbo junkyard near Hell's Gate, for various loots to resell in Chesterfield. Inroads: Elder Company will hire on short or long term contracts any adventurer who will go to the chaos ruins to get loot. Loot can be kept or made publicly available via Asset Storage Public Defender: HQ for the news agency. Branch office in Last Chance. Inroads: The Defender is always on the lookout for investigative journalists looking to expose corruption and shady dealings. Public School System: Peppered throughout Chesterfield. These are government run Crook terminals connected to Ignatz's public library provide the backbone of educational material for the local populace. The TSM is updated by private and public field reports which are marked for educational content and factual accuracy by a proprietary Victory ASI module. Although not guided or structured, the ability for self-paced and self-directed skilling is massive and supported. Inroads: Contributing to the system via field reports brings local fame and recognition as someone advancing education. Sharpmate Noodle Shop: Proprietor of "pretty decent" noodles. Main restaurant is located in Martial Town. Although far from five-star cuisine, the price and reliability of this noodle shop has given it enough revenue to open up a second location. Inroads: A fantastic place for secure meetings. Silver Screen: The nation's first MegaTheater, helmed by commercial storytelling business magnate Walmart Amazon. Leveraging cutting-edge LIES (luminal illusion entertainment system) technology the Silver Screen is able to offer not only conventional storytelling (point to multipoint) but interactive storytelling (choose-your-own-adventure) and sandbox landscapes for combat training, disaster scenarios, etc. Inroads: The Silver Screen is always on the lookout for new talent in the way of poets, playwrights, actors, and illusion technicians. Titansinger Law Firm: Law firm with a focus on commercial, property, and adventure law. A new focus for the Titansinger firm is criminal and civil law. Inroads: Titansinger law firm is always on the lookout for criminal defense attorneys, criminal prosecutors, real estate and commercial specialists, and item appraisers. Renown Chesterfield Renown System Asset Storage Distributed, fortified locations with trained personnel and secure protocols around storage and retrieval. Players can "rent" any of these things with coordination as a commercial transaction between groups which would otherwise have no cause to communicate # Elder Company Star-metal knuckles / raw material Favorable merchant connection | fence for stolen materials out on Biazo Isle # Handymen Super Strength relic Right Eye of Mogonto artifact 3x weapon class amounts of ercaniron An HQ / safe house in the slums of Palgard A safe house in Bi'le'ah which is unaffected by the chaos magic # Just Us Inc. Ghost Pouch artifact A skilled alchemist contact in the cap and bells marketplace A safe house in Seinaru Forven Canon Politics, part i: In a giant ant colony on the edge of Chesterfield, something has gone awry with the queen's hormones, causing major problems for the city's ability to control the colony and its soldiers as part of its defense system. The government puts a bid out for auction to investigate and several respond to the opportunity - Amelia, Kaede, Severin and Eth. Those who see the mission to the end are not able to solve the overarching mystery but do bring influential news back with them. Governance aftermath: Information which has come to light as a result of the investigation has caused a ripple effect which is augmenting hiring and training practices for GASP, seeing changes to an illicit trade using GASP materials which generates internal revenue; although profit margins remain thin for the program, more ants are being used; the mystery of who damaged the colony and why remains open and of interest. Pick a pack: Quest class C. Lupin and Shoko meet at a mountaintop while each picks peppers worth their weight in rhodium, a precious metal in Lagrimosa. The two negotiate enough of a haul for each but then are attacked by bandits. Lupin and Shoko form a partnership to survive getting back to Chesterfield. Governance aftermath: Bandit attacks have increased in the surrounding area, and so have armed patrols of Chesterfield guards as a direct consequence. Also, for the rest of the quarter spicy meals will accelerate natural healing processes. Sweep the leg : Forces from Chesterfield and Aligoria clash over an abandoned but intact outpost north of the Day River and west of Weland. The forces battle through the night and next morning, learning about each other through war. They reach an armistice and agree upon a division of material resources and shared use of the outpost. Governance aftermath: Chesterfield gets control of a vein of auranite, which is a very valuable resource. It is fantastic as energy storage and helps support Chesterfield's independence. Also an information edge over Aligoria. Nightingales can't live on fairy tales: Eddie, Jericho and Jackson—members of the infamous vigilante group Justice—strike down a corrupt government in the town of Chesterfield. Their organization, under disguise, assumes positions of authority over the town and in effect the trade route. Governance aftermath: Justice gains control of Chesterfield. Notes 1: Don't take the "science" in "science fantasy" too seriously. I include this just to mean that magic is something which is understood just enough to be used rather than something superstitious. You can use a cell phone but you can't make one from scratch, is the general idea. This doesn't mean everyone is a magical expert, it doesn't mean magic isn't dangerous, or that it can't be mystical and occult. 2: This does not have to focus on player characters. As a bounty hunting mecca citizens / characters will be fine going after your NPCs. A win for them means glory and money for their character, and although the NPC footsoldier may have been destined to lose, what they do or get involved in as part of the bounty hunter's story can lead to great exposure for your baddies. We want to emphasize win-win scenarios.
  9. What Lupin had to continually remind himself of was the fact that as clever as he was, and boy was he clever, that didn't make other people fools by default. There were people just as clever as him in the world trying to get one over on the next guy, and if you weren't careful then the next guy was you. When a deal is too good to be true and you show up expecting it, who's the sucker? These peppers could fetch a really hefty price but Lupin didn't know he was going to have to hike through a forest to get to the mountain they grew on. And when he got to the mountain they grew on, he didn't think he'd have to scale the damn thing and get up to a certain elevation. And when he got to the elevation, he thought they'd at least be growing by the handful, overabundance spilling color on the gray crags. Nope. He had to go foraging for them. "Well well well. After all that work..." Lupin reached out and plucked a single yellow-orange charapita pepper. He held it up, inspecting it in the bar of sunlight that peeked over the peak and filled the mountain pass. "I finally got you you bastard." Against the drab colors of the mountain, Lupin's dark attire made him difficult to distinguish from a shadow. Against the brightly colored patches of peppers however, he stood out exactly in the way you'd expect. He plucked the peppers one at a time because, looking around, it seemed to him if he didn't make too much of a mess with the patch, he'd be able to return to these parts regularly and net himself a few thousand bucks for glorified gardening. "Not bad at all." He said to himself, wearing the face of a greedy man but his hand calm and restrained. "Just don't cook your goose and its aces for you Lu."
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