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2 hours ago, Jondesu said:

In this game as in all of mine, I won't hesitate to lie through my teeth (fingers?) if necessary. :P

I'm gonna try to RP an origin for Quintus soon, I've got an idea budding but don't have time to put it together yet.

Eh, there's the caveat of my alignment. :P That's the only exception. 

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Isaac Jones hated being a drab. It felt so... demeaning to have his amount of breath but not be able to use it. But the pilfered artifacts business had never attracted "respectable" folks, and so Isaac erred on the side of caution and had stored his Breath by Awakening the inner lining of his trench coat, which he had had made double-lined just for that purpose. The reason he had taken such a precaution today of all times was that he was expecting trouble: he was on his way to deliver his latest takings to his employer.

At the far and of the alley, Isaac sensed movement. This was the middle of the slums, so he was not surprised when two ragged men detached themselves from the shadows and began a slow and steady walk towards him. They said nothing but held knives, making their intents obvious. In a place like this, any way to make a living was seen as right. Even robbing for a crime lord.

Isaac slowed his pace to a crawl and let the two men take their time reaching him. He knew what these men were likely to do: he had been like them, once. Before his employer had noticed his... special skills. So Jones slowed and listened. He heard breathing to his left side, about five feet ahead, in the shadows. The two men walking toward him were the distraction. The third man was the trap. With that in mind, Isaac suddenly surged forward, directly into the trap.

In a blur of motion, a figure leaped from the shadows where Isaac had heard the breathing. The leap was intended to get the man into knife-range, but all it got him today was into a flying fist. Isaac's street name was "Hammer" for a reason: the third man was lifted off of his feet by the blow and sent careening back into the shadows, where the back of his head slammed into the side of the alley. He groaned and fell. Isaac spun to the two men who had been walking toward him, but found them frozen fifteen feet away, still processing what had just happened. Isaac pulled his sword from inside of his trench coat: a yard-long blade with a slight curve, nearly three inches thick in the middle. It had been designed to slash vines in the jungles, but Isaac knew from experience that it worked on people nearly as well. Isaac's two assailants didn't stay long enough to find out.

*******************

Isaac walked into the back room of the restaurant, dropping his bag onto a dingy table where it landed with a loud clunk.

The other man in the room spoke, "Nice work in the alley," he said sarcastically.

Isaac Jones froze. "How do you know about that?"

"Had your name written all over it. Any good 'businessman' with my information could have figured it out."

"I don't leave traces. How?"

"Most thugs only use brawn. They leave behind knives, blood, evidence, and the like. You have some sense to go with your muscle. So when I hear that one of Boss Bargo's goons has been found dead in an alley with no evidence as to who it was who killed him, I know who did it. And anyone else out there with the right sources could figure it out, too."

"What are you getting at?"

"The longer you stay in this city, the more attention you will attract. This is a place for crude thugs, not refined killers like yourself. I've got a line on a promising place for you to go next. Word says that it may contain Awakened objects still filled with Breath, but also that the house may have a mind of its own. Get there, get anything valuable, and get out alive. You get the usual take: a fifth of all Breath you find."

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Quintus stared up the road at the house on the hill. He'd spent some time in town listening to the regulars at the bar go on about the stories, rumors and myths really, and swearing they would never go near the place. Quint wouldn't be surprised in the least to find a good number of them as visitors the following day, despite their words. Curiosity and the fascination with dark and creepy things would get the best of them in the end.

Quintus wasn't immune to the same appeal, but he was there for a different purpose. The Worldsingers had been established to gather tales from all over the worlds, and pass them along. In this case, he had been given special instructions from his mentor to not allow any details to be missed. The man could be insufferable at times, tossing his dust around or playing his flute at the oddest times, though he'd looked oddly pleased by his own music more recently, as had those of the Third Heightening or higher that had walked nearby while he played on the street corner. He had very specific requirements of his students, though, and this seemed to be Quintus' big test from what he could tell. If he could figure out the story of this house and report back, perhaps even bringing some Awakened objects or other interesting artifacts, he hoped to gain his master's trust more, to the point of perhaps even being sent to another world. Colors, that would be amazing.

For now, Quint turned and headed back to the inn to await the promised opening of the mansion. The next day promised to be very interesting.

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1 hour ago, Ecthelion III said:

I'm cool with Aman's plan.

I'm not sure Aman's still cool with Aman's plan. :P

I can absolutely get behind the plan to only lynch inactives at first, unless we get a big obvious clue somehow. Helps keep the game moving and fun without hurting either team much.

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1 hour ago, Jondesu said:

I can absolutely get behind the plan to only lynch inactives at first, unless we get a big obvious clue somehow. Helps keep the game moving and fun without hurting either team much.

Even if we don't officially adopt the plan, I think I'll follow your lead on lynching inactives.

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"Now, I'm no kingsman- but I've seen my fair share of haunted houses, yknow? Back where I'm from, couldn't throw a bloody stick without accidentally defiling some ancient cultist secret burial ground. Well, maybe they were just plain old regular houses with regular people living inside them- but still, you'd think they were haunted by Blackbones herself with all the racket a lady would kick up after a little stick goes through the window. And I have met cultists, don't think I haven't- some of my best friends are cultists. Well, ok, maybe it was more a one sided relationship- but being on a sacrificial table can be a great bonding experience, so I've heard. Who needs blood sacrifices when you got a good pack of cards and a round wooden table of cultists- am I right? Doesn't even have to be cultists. Or a wooden table. These were my brothers cards, yknow, finest cavalier in the east- shame about the whole fingers thing, very tragic. That being said, I may not be a kingsman- but people like me can't ride out in the wilderness forever, I've been a pilgrim for three years and I still eat minnows for all it's bloody worth because I can't catch worth a damnation. See, much better at playing cards I am- haven't lost a single game with my brothers cards, swear it's like they've got a breath of their own sometimes. Anyone up for a round of Ducksteeth? What about Hangmans Bluff? Tssk, suit yourselves- I wouldn't want to rob any of you blind over a few bad hands because I'm no kingsman and only a kingsman would steal. See, that's the problem with this them noble types- give them a hand and they take the whole bloody arm, know what I mean? Wouldn't trust one to even fart sideways. Once a kingsman tried to steal my hat- I say steal, but yknow, the kind of steal where you give the person money back? Crazy, right? But if there's one thing you can count on me- it's that I always look after my hat, my horse, and my cards. And you guys, obviously, but don't even get me started on the Godkingsmen, always with the garish clothing and the obnoxious shouting- what's wrong with just a grey coat and a good wide brimmed hat, I tell you? Ah, but I'm getting sidetracked. I'm no kingsman, but see- I've been getting a good run lately, been saving up for a place to put my feet up. Tavern common rooms just don't do it for me any more, know what I'm saying? When was the last time you saw a good dartboard in a tavern anyway? Ah, maybe I'll even write home- there's this one girl I had to leave behind, talked about settling down and getting a proper job. Shame about the whole rabbits thing. Ah, she's probably better of without me- what does she know about haunted houses anyway? My horse probaby knows more, and I don't think my horse has even smelt a cultist. Actually, thinking about it, there was this one time in the north when we got ambushed by undead- I mean- Returned, as you'd call them. The guy who lead them was a bloody nutjob too, but let me tell you- never a quicker hand at Dragonchess, know what I mean? What? No I never played against him- you think I'm some sort of kingsman or something? Because I think you might have me confused with someone else. Anyway, the house looks nice- lets hope Blackbones isn't feeling particularly grumpy today, eh? I could use some good luck for once. Ooh, say- that reminds me, I know a good ghost story to get you all in the gambling mood. Stop me if you've heard it before, I call it The Murder That Only The Bees Saw- and it goes a little something like this..."

 

Edited by Unodus
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Updated player list and rules clarifications.

To respond to STINK (which I have also done in the second post), kill occurs before Omens are discovered.

Edited by Wyrmhero
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From Aonar's sig:

Quote

Quotes: Once there was a GM who had an idea for a game. It was a wonderful game, a magical game, filled with bright people and clever ideas. Then Aonar signed up, and everything became despair :( 

-Wyrmhero

32 minutes ago, Ecthelion III said:

Once there was a GM who had an idea for a game. It was a wonderful game, a magical game, filled with bright people and clever ideas. Then Aonar signed up, and everything became despair.

I dunno if Wyrm is Zeus, but you definitely stole his thunder. :P

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12 hours ago, Ecthelion III said:

Once there was a GM who had an idea for a game. It was a wonderful game, a magical game, filled with bright people and clever ideas. Then Aonar signed up, and everything became despair.

Cite sources pls; plagiarism is not permitted and grounds for a series of unpleasant penalties, including failing the module and expulsion from the University. This has been reported to the board for further disciplinary action.

Oh wait, this is a game, I forget... :o

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I'll sign up as C.L. Anky. A very experienced certified investigator and hunter of sentient awakened objects. He was hired by an anonymous client to investigate and destroy the House on the Hill should there prove to be any unnatural awakening going on. 

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Friday 18th you say....

How can I pass up a boardgame-inspired game for the second time?

Professor Alberd Hae will be coming by. He's spent his life searching for the research of the Five Scholars. A lead has lead him to this house. 

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