Vanman
Two Thousand Club
Sounds good to me!
OOC Thread [The Darkening]
- Thread starter Grey
- Start date
Brekkir
Senior Member
I'm not interested in Hunter. I might be amenable to playing a NWoD Mage, though, if I can get into an existing cabal or other players join in as Mages.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
The NWoD game would just be mortals, I'm afraid. Chaka is starting a Mage game soon though, if you haven't seen the recruitment thread.
I would prefer to continue this one though, if I could just get a reply from any of the other players.
I suppose I will make one final attempt at some fresh blood and NPC the captain - after that, I don't know.
I would prefer to continue this one though, if I could just get a reply from any of the other players.
I suppose I will make one final attempt at some fresh blood and NPC the captain - after that, I don't know.
happerry
Patternspider Survivor
I'm still around. Just a bit distracted by my recent gut surgery, which has had some small effect on my free time and inspiration, you know? Still want to play though.
Sarky
Drunken master
I'd post, but I don't appear to be on the ship..?
Vanman
Two Thousand Club
I can't speak for Grey, but I wasn't specifically on the ship either. I think in terms of game cohesion, it would be safe to assume you're on the ship. But, again, that's just what I think. And I'm not the GM.
Vanman
Two Thousand Club
I am leaving for Gen Con tomorrow afternoon, so tonight will be the last time I will be able to post with any regularity. I may be able to check whilst at Gen Con, but don't count on it. If I do check, it's going to be from my iTouch, so typing will be something of a pain in the ass. That doesn't mean I won't check, but I can't promise I will be able to post. Just so everyone knows....
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
Sorry, sorry, been busy folks. Assume you are aboard the ship. I'll make a post on the captain's behalf later today, and also a fresh meat thread.
Oh, and if anyone fancies a mutiny... that could be fun.
Oh, and if anyone fancies a mutiny... that could be fun.
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
Meat delivery!
Giv me some time to get acquainted with the rules, the setting and the style and MYSTERIOUS CHARACTERAGE will occur. 8)
Giv me some time to get acquainted with the rules, the setting and the style and MYSTERIOUS CHARACTERAGE will occur. 8)
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
Vaguely looking at a Monk at the moment, though I may well change my mind- is there any more info around on exactly what they're capable of? The basic concept would be a kind of Robin Hood figure, with extra kung fu; possibly the bastard of a noble family.
The other idea I have is a Conflagrant swashbuckler type- quick with a blade, a word or a tremendous explosion, as the situation demands. If I go with him, expect leaping out of things propelled by explosions (a lot...).
I just want to check precisely how the rolling-dice-type rules work- is it a number of d10s equal to Attribute+Skill? And what's the target number? The book seemed to be saying 8 unless Historian fiat says otherwise, then it mentions 10-Skill.
EDIT: As so often happens, my second concept's feeling more fun than the first. I'll have a look at writing up a background nowish.
The other idea I have is a Conflagrant swashbuckler type- quick with a blade, a word or a tremendous explosion, as the situation demands. If I go with him, expect leaping out of things propelled by explosions (a lot...).
I just want to check precisely how the rolling-dice-type rules work- is it a number of d10s equal to Attribute+Skill? And what's the target number? The book seemed to be saying 8 unless Historian fiat says otherwise, then it mentions 10-Skill.
EDIT: As so often happens, my second concept's feeling more fun than the first. I'll have a look at writing up a background nowish.
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
Triple post, but nobody else is on, it's hours later and BACKGROUND! Still a couple of things needing fixing- he needs a home city and a name for his erstwhile employers. Posting here 'cause it's a first draft, basically.
Looking at Rikhard Deren today, you wouldn’t believe he was born in a slum in [iNSERT CITY HERE]. That’s exactly how he wants it.
Rikhard’s early childhood was spent in the highly effective task of looking malnourished and ill, helping to persuade any passing philanthropist that he and his mother needed any aid that could be spared. It was no sham- Liza Deren was as destitute as she looked, and could barely afford even the most basic necessities of life.
Her son, then, is no stranger to hardship- nor to self-reliance. By the time he was eleven, he was certain that he would help himself and his mother out of the cycle of poverty into which he had been born. He defended his mother’s honour from his cronies. He stole food for her, looked after her when she was ill. And he had a plan.
For a slight child who had spent the decade since he could walk unassisted scrambling through, under and atop the jumbled buildings of his birthplace, sneaking into the [CITY] Academy for Gifted Youth- the school for the children whose parents weren’t short of a “gift†or two in their bank-vaults- was merely something of a challenge, rather than an impossible task. Safely ensconced atop the roof or hiding in the servants’ corridors, Rikhard observed everything about the life of the sons of nobility- their ways of walking, of talking, the way they treated the servants and the way the servants treated them. As the weeks and months passed, Rikhard practiced extensively and mastered the refined speech of the gentry, so different to the ways he had been brought up with. And he found beauty.
He had watched fencing lessons for some time at this point- copying, with the aid of a long fork stolen from the kitchen, the moves of the instructor, watching the clumsy parries and ripostes of boys his own age. It was only when he saw a class of senior students that he truly understood the meaning of what he had been blindly following.
The flashing of the dull steel training blades fascinated him, and he resolved to master the same skills as soon as he could. Still, saving himself and his mother came first, fencing practice following in his few idle moments. The food he lifted from the Academy kitchens was only a stop-gap measure, but he knew it would be years before he could manage the next step. With all the seriousness of a prepubescent boy, he applied himself further to learn how to look, sound and act like master- or like servant.
Years passed, and Rikhard’s clear treble deepened into an elegant baritone, and though the seemingly slow pace of his growth was a restriction that chafed at his spirit, he knew that he could soon save his mother from the slum. Using clothes thieved from a particularly supercilious junior cook in the school’s kitchen, Rikhard managed to secure himself a job as a servant to [FAMILY]. Certainly not a life of luxury, but a sufficiently well-paid job to rescue his mother from the slum.
So was his plan- but he hadn’t realised just how ill his mother was. She had been concealing it from him, not wanting to distract her son from the new life he was building. She died in his arms to a lung infection, and the sixteen-year-old Rikhard’s heart broke. He was caught up in a whirlwind of anguish and rage- rage at the families who lived with a silver spoon in their mouths, who allowed such things to happen, a burning rage that broke forth from his heart and into the world.
It was fortunate that it was early evening, with most of the inhabitants of the slum not yet asleep- Liza Deren’s unplanned funeral pyre did not claim as many lives as it would have done were the people unable to flee. The survivors tentatively returned to find a young man still sobbing amidst the ash, his face blackened with soot, gazing at what seemed by the scorch-marks on the ground to have been the centre of the blaze. They accepted that he could have got there before them, but whispers were inevitable after such a shocking event, and Rikhard knew he must leave. In the dead of night, he crept into the [FAMILY] house- they only employed you because you didn’t look as poor as you were, said a bitter voice in his head- and took everything he could get his hands on. Clothes, silverware, jewelery- and a beautiful matched rapier and dagger, shining steel that felt perfect in his hand.
He left the city then, travelling the countryside- his skill with his stolen blades improving as he left robbers bleeding at the wayside, using his new-found magic to light fires and make himself a little more comfortable in the cold nights, taking the few opportunities he could to learn of his supernatural power, and doing what little he could for the poor he met.
Yet this life seemed purposeless now- mere aimless wandering. In search of excitement and- perhaps- a way to acquire enough influence to help people like himself and his mother, Rikhard Deren- duellist, thief and Conflagrant- found himself a place on the crew of the Spitfire.
EDIT: A hit of sheet. Found Skills a bit of work, eventually decided that, due to the way he learnt his stuff, he doesn't need to really excel at anything. Jack of all trades, master of none, kind of thing. I was thinking Logos 2- he'll've spent long enough with his magic by now that he's got a bit more control over it, and will've learnt to do a bit more than just go sparky.
Name: Rikhard Deren
Race: Human
Path: Conflagrant of the Golden Flame
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 3
Fitness: 3
Charisma: 3
Guile: 3
Composure: 2
Intellect:2
Intuition: 2
Willpower: 3
Athletics: 3
Melee: 2
Stealth: 2
Dodge: 1
Academics: 1
Lore: 1
Politics: 1
Investigation: 1
Subterfuge: 2
Seduction: 1
City-Savvy: 2
Mingle: 1
Etiquette: 2
Intimidation: 1
ANOTHER EDIT: Added in the Human bonuses.
Rikhard’s early childhood was spent in the highly effective task of looking malnourished and ill, helping to persuade any passing philanthropist that he and his mother needed any aid that could be spared. It was no sham- Liza Deren was as destitute as she looked, and could barely afford even the most basic necessities of life.
Her son, then, is no stranger to hardship- nor to self-reliance. By the time he was eleven, he was certain that he would help himself and his mother out of the cycle of poverty into which he had been born. He defended his mother’s honour from his cronies. He stole food for her, looked after her when she was ill. And he had a plan.
For a slight child who had spent the decade since he could walk unassisted scrambling through, under and atop the jumbled buildings of his birthplace, sneaking into the [CITY] Academy for Gifted Youth- the school for the children whose parents weren’t short of a “gift†or two in their bank-vaults- was merely something of a challenge, rather than an impossible task. Safely ensconced atop the roof or hiding in the servants’ corridors, Rikhard observed everything about the life of the sons of nobility- their ways of walking, of talking, the way they treated the servants and the way the servants treated them. As the weeks and months passed, Rikhard practiced extensively and mastered the refined speech of the gentry, so different to the ways he had been brought up with. And he found beauty.
He had watched fencing lessons for some time at this point- copying, with the aid of a long fork stolen from the kitchen, the moves of the instructor, watching the clumsy parries and ripostes of boys his own age. It was only when he saw a class of senior students that he truly understood the meaning of what he had been blindly following.
The flashing of the dull steel training blades fascinated him, and he resolved to master the same skills as soon as he could. Still, saving himself and his mother came first, fencing practice following in his few idle moments. The food he lifted from the Academy kitchens was only a stop-gap measure, but he knew it would be years before he could manage the next step. With all the seriousness of a prepubescent boy, he applied himself further to learn how to look, sound and act like master- or like servant.
Years passed, and Rikhard’s clear treble deepened into an elegant baritone, and though the seemingly slow pace of his growth was a restriction that chafed at his spirit, he knew that he could soon save his mother from the slum. Using clothes thieved from a particularly supercilious junior cook in the school’s kitchen, Rikhard managed to secure himself a job as a servant to [FAMILY]. Certainly not a life of luxury, but a sufficiently well-paid job to rescue his mother from the slum.
So was his plan- but he hadn’t realised just how ill his mother was. She had been concealing it from him, not wanting to distract her son from the new life he was building. She died in his arms to a lung infection, and the sixteen-year-old Rikhard’s heart broke. He was caught up in a whirlwind of anguish and rage- rage at the families who lived with a silver spoon in their mouths, who allowed such things to happen, a burning rage that broke forth from his heart and into the world.
It was fortunate that it was early evening, with most of the inhabitants of the slum not yet asleep- Liza Deren’s unplanned funeral pyre did not claim as many lives as it would have done were the people unable to flee. The survivors tentatively returned to find a young man still sobbing amidst the ash, his face blackened with soot, gazing at what seemed by the scorch-marks on the ground to have been the centre of the blaze. They accepted that he could have got there before them, but whispers were inevitable after such a shocking event, and Rikhard knew he must leave. In the dead of night, he crept into the [FAMILY] house- they only employed you because you didn’t look as poor as you were, said a bitter voice in his head- and took everything he could get his hands on. Clothes, silverware, jewelery- and a beautiful matched rapier and dagger, shining steel that felt perfect in his hand.
He left the city then, travelling the countryside- his skill with his stolen blades improving as he left robbers bleeding at the wayside, using his new-found magic to light fires and make himself a little more comfortable in the cold nights, taking the few opportunities he could to learn of his supernatural power, and doing what little he could for the poor he met.
Yet this life seemed purposeless now- mere aimless wandering. In search of excitement and- perhaps- a way to acquire enough influence to help people like himself and his mother, Rikhard Deren- duellist, thief and Conflagrant- found himself a place on the crew of the Spitfire.
EDIT: A hit of sheet. Found Skills a bit of work, eventually decided that, due to the way he learnt his stuff, he doesn't need to really excel at anything. Jack of all trades, master of none, kind of thing. I was thinking Logos 2- he'll've spent long enough with his magic by now that he's got a bit more control over it, and will've learnt to do a bit more than just go sparky.
Name: Rikhard Deren
Race: Human
Path: Conflagrant of the Golden Flame
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 3
Fitness: 3
Charisma: 3
Guile: 3
Composure: 2
Intellect:2
Intuition: 2
Willpower: 3
Athletics: 3
Melee: 2
Stealth: 2
Dodge: 1
Academics: 1
Lore: 1
Politics: 1
Investigation: 1
Subterfuge: 2
Seduction: 1
City-Savvy: 2
Mingle: 1
Etiquette: 2
Intimidation: 1
ANOTHER EDIT: Added in the Human bonuses.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
I love the character. So much. Sounds like he would've grown up at the base of a Stormspire.
As for the mechanical questions - Non-combat rolls are indeed an Attribute + Skill pool of d10s.
Combat may be very unlike that with which you are familiar, but it's pretty straightforward.
TNs will normally be 8 unless I say otherwise.
If you can tell me where things were unclear, and suggest a way of clarifying them, I would be most grateful.
As for the mechanical questions - Non-combat rolls are indeed an Attribute + Skill pool of d10s.
Combat may be very unlike that with which you are familiar, but it's pretty straightforward.
TNs will normally be 8 unless I say otherwise.
If you can tell me where things were unclear, and suggest a way of clarifying them, I would be most grateful.
Crocodile
Mister Zero
Alright, I think I've managed to put my Vampire together. Might be some mistakes but tell me what you think.
Character Sheet
Character Sheet
Name: Tavak of Loshax
Race: Loxite Vampire
Rank: Stalker
Attributes-
Strength: 4 (Major)
Dexterity: 3 (Minor)
Fitness: 3
Charisma: 4 (Major)
Guile: 3 (Minor)
Composure: 2
Intellect: 4 (Major)
Intuition: 2
Willpower: 3 (minor)
Skills-
Athletics **
Craft (Flesh): ***
Dodge: **
Defend: ***
Unarmed: **o
Academics: *
Medicine: ***
Lore: *
Investigation: **
Seduce *
Subterfuge: **
City-Savvy: **
Mingle: **
Intimidation: **
Persuade: **
Kromsian Martial Arts:
-Awakened Titan Style ***
Loxite Sorceries:
-Caroforma ****
-Dominate *
-Nyctomancy *
Background:
Race: Loxite Vampire
Rank: Stalker
Attributes-
Strength: 4 (Major)
Dexterity: 3 (Minor)
Fitness: 3
Charisma: 4 (Major)
Guile: 3 (Minor)
Composure: 2
Intellect: 4 (Major)
Intuition: 2
Willpower: 3 (minor)
Skills-
Athletics **
Craft (Flesh): ***
Dodge: **
Defend: ***
Unarmed: **o
Academics: *
Medicine: ***
Lore: *
Investigation: **
Seduce *
Subterfuge: **
City-Savvy: **
Mingle: **
Intimidation: **
Persuade: **
Kromsian Martial Arts:
-Awakened Titan Style ***
Loxite Sorceries:
-Caroforma ****
-Dominate *
-Nyctomancy *
Background:
My name is Tavak, scion of House Loshax, member of the Loxite Clan. That’s right, the shadowy rulers of Kroms. It was there that I was born and raised and turned. They had great aspirations for me. It seems I showed quite some talent for Fleshcrafting. I was being trained as a priest at the time, being drilled in the martial arts of my people. I found I disliked wielding weapons, preferring to use my bare hands. It was something that was influenced by my skills in Caroforma. It made me tend to favor the Awakened Titan Style, with which I became quite skilled in.
I was considered a prodigy when it came to molding flesh, admittedly though I was only so good due to a lot of study and practice. It helped that unlike others of my kindred, I studied the workings of the flesh in medicine as well. This deeper knowledge had given me great advantage over others of my kind. My own creations tend to be more stable and viable but I know what you’re going to ask me now. If I was so very skilled at this craft, why did I leave my land? That answer is simple enough. I was bored.
All my people do are practice their craft, working the flesh of the living into shapes that are useful. When they aren’t doing that they are politicking amongst themselves or praying to our great Father of Vampires. I wasn’t allowed to work on the military aspects of our kind, viewed as too valuable for my knowledge of flesh and medicine. It enraged me to think I was being held back. The worst thing about it you might ask? It was because of my skill! They wanted to lock me away as some pathetic scholar even as I had so painstakingly shaped my body to survive beyond the Citadel’s defenses. I trained so hard to go out into the world and they had the audacity to tell me I couldn’t go! Well, I wasn’t about to take no for an answer. I pulled a few strings with some Twilights I associated with and snuck aboard a ship bound away from Kroms.
I managed to survive by trading my skills in exchange for drinking blood and small sums of money. You’d be surprised how willing someone is to let you feed on them if they’re in pain or need help. I never took a life in feeding. I didn’t see the point. The people beyond Kroms were all so fascinating. Sure I had read some about the outside world beyond our lands, but to actually see it and live in it? I don’t know if I’d ever want to go back. I spent a good number of years jumping from ship to ship until I found the Spitfire. I signed up more or less because her captain didn’t seem all that afraid of me which was a nice change. I now put my skills in medicine to good use on the ship, combined with my own natural aptitudes for dealing with people and combat.
I was considered a prodigy when it came to molding flesh, admittedly though I was only so good due to a lot of study and practice. It helped that unlike others of my kindred, I studied the workings of the flesh in medicine as well. This deeper knowledge had given me great advantage over others of my kind. My own creations tend to be more stable and viable but I know what you’re going to ask me now. If I was so very skilled at this craft, why did I leave my land? That answer is simple enough. I was bored.
All my people do are practice their craft, working the flesh of the living into shapes that are useful. When they aren’t doing that they are politicking amongst themselves or praying to our great Father of Vampires. I wasn’t allowed to work on the military aspects of our kind, viewed as too valuable for my knowledge of flesh and medicine. It enraged me to think I was being held back. The worst thing about it you might ask? It was because of my skill! They wanted to lock me away as some pathetic scholar even as I had so painstakingly shaped my body to survive beyond the Citadel’s defenses. I trained so hard to go out into the world and they had the audacity to tell me I couldn’t go! Well, I wasn’t about to take no for an answer. I pulled a few strings with some Twilights I associated with and snuck aboard a ship bound away from Kroms.
I managed to survive by trading my skills in exchange for drinking blood and small sums of money. You’d be surprised how willing someone is to let you feed on them if they’re in pain or need help. I never took a life in feeding. I didn’t see the point. The people beyond Kroms were all so fascinating. Sure I had read some about the outside world beyond our lands, but to actually see it and live in it? I don’t know if I’d ever want to go back. I spent a good number of years jumping from ship to ship until I found the Spitfire. I signed up more or less because her captain didn’t seem all that afraid of me which was a nice change. I now put my skills in medicine to good use on the ship, combined with my own natural aptitudes for dealing with people and combat.
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
OK, so that suggests he's just nicked off with a Stormlord's rapier, doesn't it...? Either that or an Infernal Scion's. Either way, there're likely to be repercussions...Grey said:
EDIT: Just had another look through the rulebook and, to be honest, it's pretty clear; I think it was just me confusing myself. One thing I didn't mention that's a little wibbly is exactly what it means with weapons when they're, say, "8 Slashing and Crushing"- I assume things like "4 Piercing, 3 Slashing" are where you have a choice, but how do weapons that two types at once interact with armour?
And the other thing I ment to mention: I think I've found the right system to use to bash together a Shadows of the Apt game...
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
Two types of damage at once allows you to apply the most effective at damage calculation. When a weapon is, as in the example, 4 Piercing, 3 Slashing, that represents the kind of attack employed - stabbing deals the Piercing damage, slashing deals the Slashing damage.
And he could, potentially, have the rapier of a well-to-do mundane.... but nicking the enchanted rapier of a Scion or Magus is more fun.
Decide which and I'll administer the effects, muahaha....
And, erm, Shadows of the Apt?
And he could, potentially, have the rapier of a well-to-do mundane.... but nicking the enchanted rapier of a Scion or Magus is more fun.
Decide which and I'll administer the effects, muahaha....
And, erm, Shadows of the Apt?
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
Scion or Magus will be more fun. Much more fun. I killed off his parent in the backstory, it'd be unfair to leave you with nothing to play with in there... I'm thinking a Lezek Scion, they seem more likely to have the right sort of elegant style, and they'd want fairly stylish servants, too. I'll go and make a thread in the Crew Manifest.
Shadows of the Apt is a series of books I've been reading (the fifth one just came out)- it's a fantasy setting, the main difference to your standard setting being that the people come insect-flavoured- so you have your Beetle-kinden, who are tough and enduring, your Mantids, who are graceful and deadly, your manipulative Spiders, and so on. I've been bashing my brain into how best the differences can be represented, and I think the system you've used with the Hunter templates and suchlike fits perfectly. So yay!
EDIT: Crew Manifest post made, with a couple of subtle changes to the background- naming the birthplace and the family, and changing the description of the Academy for Gifted Youth (it works better now they'll all be children of Scions or Magi!).
Shadows of the Apt is a series of books I've been reading (the fifth one just came out)- it's a fantasy setting, the main difference to your standard setting being that the people come insect-flavoured- so you have your Beetle-kinden, who are tough and enduring, your Mantids, who are graceful and deadly, your manipulative Spiders, and so on. I've been bashing my brain into how best the differences can be represented, and I think the system you've used with the Hunter templates and suchlike fits perfectly. So yay!
EDIT: Crew Manifest post made, with a couple of subtle changes to the background- naming the birthplace and the family, and changing the description of the Academy for Gifted Youth (it works better now they'll all be children of Scions or Magi!).
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
Interesting series - my first thought was Khepri...
If you fancy a hand adjusting the rules, sing out.
Also, that sword & dagger? Demons. They talk to you sometimes. They're too impressed with your skills to complain about being stolen. Also, it will be entirely too rich to confront you with Laughing Blade Style someday.
If you fancy a hand adjusting the rules, sing out.
Also, that sword & dagger? Demons. They talk to you sometimes. They're too impressed with your skills to complain about being stolen. Also, it will be entirely too rich to confront you with Laughing Blade Style someday.
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
Oh, demons. Of course. Why did I expect anything else?
:twisted:
:twisted:
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
If it's any consolation, Demonic weapons are amazingly powerful. They just tend to belittle you if you fuck up and mock you for your mortal inadequacies.
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
That's absolutely fine by me.
Do they have names? And should I start posting IC?
Do they have names? And should I start posting IC?
Brekkir
Senior Member
For the record I'm still here :wink:
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
Huzzah!
For giggles, Agni & Rudra.
For giggles, Agni & Rudra.
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
Not sure I recognise the reference, I'll just see what my wiki-fu turns up.
Any personality type stuff I should know about 'em?
Any personality type stuff I should know about 'em?
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
They're Demons of Pride - arrogant, utterly convinced that they above all weapons are the best, and that any fighting style other than fencing is beneath them.
You can feel free to develop their personality as you wish, or I can take their reins for you.
You can feel free to develop their personality as you wish, or I can take their reins for you.
MorkaisChosen
One Thousand Club
I think I'll have trouble keeping track of three characters...
Ooh, that's the important question- can anyone else hear them?
(I don't think there's anything else I need before diving into the game, except possibly background awards...)
Ooh, that's the important question- can anyone else hear them?
(I don't think there's anything else I need before diving into the game, except possibly background awards...)
