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Messages - Wrex

Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 227
1
You vaguely consider trying to make it a test of raw athleticism. Parkour, a break for it. Then you remember your utter lack of physical ability. You'd never manage to escape him.

You attempt to rely on your stealth, then. If he can't find you, he can't hurt you, right?

You hear the racking of a shotgun

"Awlrigh', no more fuckin' around. You know how to dispel sorcery? Fine. Lesse you dispel lead, eh?"

Minutes pass. You see him walk through the hallways, angrily poking in rooms and leveling a beefy looking mossberg with a flashlight on it down the sights. He smokes and sparks very faintly.

After half an hour, you hear him stomping away, in a furious rage.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

What do you do?

Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Relieved

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Crossbow: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short Two units
Phone: Half charge

Spoiler: rolls (click to show/hide)


2
You sit there, unholstering your crossbow, and sliding a magazine of wickedly gleaming steel bolts into place. A little insurance.

You hear the clicking of his dress shoes as he slowly, nonchalantly walks towards you.

"So it's gonna be like this, eh? I'ma walk around this corner, put a bullet through your brain, and go have a drink. Howssat sound?"

You don't think that sounds very good at all.

"You know too much. Is' an old cliche, but is pretty true, ya?"

Click. Clack. Click.

You notice the puddles in the street appear to be...clouding over, almost as with ash, as the noise gets louder.

You discreetly reach into your pocket, with sand in hand, and begin holding forth on all sorts of threats.

"What's a scrawny little stick like you gonna do, sho-"

You throw a handful of sand around the corner.

A screech of pain greets your ears, and a snapped off shot slams into a streetlamp, plunging the area into darkness. You throw yourself up the fire escape.

The deserted tenement is black as night. Graffiti lines the walls, and you hear a single, echoing sound.

Click. Clack. Click

What do you do?
Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Alarmed

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Crossbow: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short Two units
Phone: Half charge

Spoiler: Rolls (click to show/hide)


3


"Well, you've been busy, ain'tcha? And from the look on your face, you remember me too. Can't be 'avin that, now can I?"

You try to speak up, but you can't. Your tongue, your limbs, all seem frozen. Moving against him seems unthinkable. Impossible. Moving or reacting as futile as commanding the tides to stop.

He draws his weapon. A bright, shiny, desert eagle. He checks the safety, and slowly slides in a new magazine, with the nonchalance of a practiced killer.

You wrench yourself out of it just in time, and throw yourself to the side, using an alleyway to shield yourself from the trio of bullets that came racing your way.

"Huh. Wasn't expectin' that."


What do you do?


Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Alarmed

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Crossbow: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short Two units
Phone: Half charge

Spoiler: Rolls (click to show/hide)


4
The lamp definitely merely flickered-and then he was there. Unless you're imagining things.

5
You purchase the crossbow, and a fairly large number of good old fashioned steel bolts. Silent. Deadly. Shame it's so big, but what're you going to do? You sling it across your shoulders.

They know people who know people- but you know those people too. When you have more money, well, you think you might be able to acquire some military grade hardware.

Speaking of hardware, you stop by the hardware store, and buy some bags of sand. Cheap, if a bit heavy.

Later that night, you've stepped out for a walk.  Letting your mind wander and be at ease after the stresses of the day is a nice break.

The streetlamp flickers.

It's the man from the Diner.


What do you do?


Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Alarmed

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Crossbow: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short Two units
Phone: Half charge



6
Is this a legal thingy or an illegal thingy?

Strictly speaking, no, but that's not a concern for you.

7
You know someone who knows someone. These days, it's not as hard as it seems to find a shady gun dealer on the side. And with your superior knowledge of red tape, it doesn't even need to be on the down low. Sometimes, knowing people pays off, and this is one of those days.

They don't remember selling anyone a Desert Eagle, least of all someone who looks like a NARC, but if you happen to be interested....


Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Focused

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Phone: Full batteries.




8
(And we're back! i'm no longer suffering from the scourge of winter)

You set your phone on timed, and slide it gently against the mirror. It ripples, and it slides through. It clicks a few times, and you withdraw your phone. The pictures are.....strange. It looks like the street outside your house, but nothing is there. Just fog, a street light or two, snow?

You're unsure about what to do next.

What do you do?


Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Focused

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Phone: Full batteries.




9
You touch the mirror's surface. it ripples slightly and gives way.

You withdraw your fingers, and hastily dump a salt shaker on, around, and near the mirror, being sure to get a rough circle. Nothing seems to be happening, but it's hard to tell.

But you have an idea. You quickly begin research on what happened to those various authors, and you find some....interesting correlations.

Some of them wrote often of Fires, Ashes. A scorched existence just inches away from us. And cooincidentally, all of them died in a fire.  Paging through their demented rantings, one thing stands out. They all advise sand, clean sand, for "Disrupting the flames of Hel". melodramatic? Certainly. But it sounds useful. You put a ring of sand as well as salt around all the mirrors in your home. Can't hurt to be careful, right?


Spoiler: Rolls (click to show/hide)

Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Focused

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Phone: Full batteries.



10
You go into the liquor cabinet, and get a nice, big slug of Captain Morgan in you. You and the cap'n make it happen, if "it" is talking to your inexplicably winking reflection in the mirror. You briefly question your sanity, and have another shot. Mmm, Rum.

You return to your bathroom mirror, yank the towel off, and make stern accusations at your reflection in the mirror.

Nothing seems to happen. Your reflection continues to mimic your movements perfectly, as it always did.

But why is the mirror so...dirty? And why does it smell like smoke? Why is the inside of the towel coated in ash?

Disturbing.

A quick google search doesn't seem to do much- it'd be impossible to seperate the wheat from the chaff. But you /do/ find records of the warehouse existing. It's not in any official database, but sites dedicated to local occult hotspots (Every town has that creepy house on the hill, after all) do indicate something off about it. Something about clean water clouding over nearby. Strange, but a possible, if dangerous lead.

Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Focused

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Phone: Full batteries.

Spoiler:  Rolls (click to show/hide)


11
(Back from the holidays!)

You try to think about everything that has transpired, but you don't think of anything that could explain this, or indeed anything. This is completely unprecedented from your experience.

You briefly consider panicking, but then do not panic. You calmly drape a towel over the mirror, and browse your contact list.

You have a few trusted friends- Jeff, down at the SK8tr 8. Never much of an extrovert, though.

You briefly search your meager collection of books, but you see nothing that could help you.

What do you do?


Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Alarmed

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Phone: Full batteries.


12
You step into your bathroom, and take a warm, refreshing shower. You feel all the grime, sweat, and ash of the last night roll off of your body as you gently prepare for the coming day.

You step out of the shower, and look into the bathroom mirror. You look refreshed, and maybe even a little more stable.

Then your reflection winks at you.


What do you do?

Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Alarmed

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Phone: Full batteries.


13
You check the internet again on your phone, for mentions of homicide. And there are, dozens of them as usually befits a city. Sorting any gold from the dross could take awhile.

You plug your phone into the charger to keep the batteries juiced.


What do you do?

Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Rested

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Phone: Full batteries.


14
Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: Everything is a Couch. (Suggestion game)
« on: December 22, 2015, 10:08:02 pm »
You stand there for a minute. Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus.

You feel a little better.

You take out your phone and try to reply to the text message, but...it seems to have been sent by you, to you. That doesn't make sense.

You stumble out of the bathroom, and put a few dollars on the counter to pay for your meal, and step on a piece of discarded brass. .50 AE, still warm.

You're not crazy, here's proof. So what if no one else seems to have noticed anything? So what if there's no bloodstains or body? You have proof. You are sane. You are normal.
You have lost your mind! Don't panic. You may be able to get it back. In the meantime, everything is gold and red and marvelous.
Phone contacts are normal-your friends, your family.

You drag yourself home, and collapse on the couch. It's nearly noon when you awake. You can go anywhere. You use secret passages to enter the rooms of your enemies, vulnerable in their sleep. You climb dark staircases and cross vast, silent halls. You can do anything. Anything except scrub this gore from your hands.

What do you do?


Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Rested

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Phone: Full batteries.


15
You whip your head around.


A bald man, simply tailored in a business suit, is just walking away, slowly, and calmly. Gunsmoke trails away from his weapon.

The crowd of diners, in blind circumvention to logic, simply resume eating. Glancing over the counter, there is no body, no blood, or anything to show that the server ever existed.

Another server walks up to you.

"Sorry, we're a little short handed tonight. Can I get you anything else?"

You excuse yourself, lurch into the bathroom, and stare long an hard into the bathroom mirror. You look tired, but not crazy. You're not crazy. You're sure of it.

What do you do?


Health: Unharmed
Mental State: Alarmed

Gear: Coat, 6 units storage.

Glock: Deadliness/Moderate Range/Short, One unit.
Phone: Full batteries.


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