I am Yarmr Free, the Cruel Glaive who Fuses Flesh and Steel
Tier
Effort
XP
1
1
0
Stat
Current
Total
Edge
Might
20
20
1
Speed
13
13
1
Intellect
9
9
0
Armor: +1
Cruelty: When you use force, you can choose to maim or deliver painful injuries to draw out your foe’s suffering. Whenever you inflict damage, you can choose to inflict 2 fewer points of damage to decrease the difficulty of the next attack against that foe by one step.
Skill: You’re trained in tasks related to deception, intimidation, and persuasion when you interact with characters experiencing physical or emotional pain.
Inability: You have a hard time connecting with others, understanding their motives, or sharing their feelings. The difficulty of any task made to ascertain another character’s motives, feelings, or disposition is increased by one step.
Additional Equipment: You have a valuable memento from the last person you destroyed. The memento is worth 10 shins, and you can sell it or trade it for an item of equal or lesser value.
Connection: Pick one other PC. This character knows your true nature, even if no one else does. If your components
are not particularly hidden, she knows a different secret of yours, such as a preprogrammed word that will shut you down for ten minutes. Additional Equipment: You have a bag of light tools and a variety
of parts to repair yourself.
Minor Effect Suggestions: Your servos learn from your successful actions. You gain a +1 bonus to similar actions involving the same task (such as making attacks against the same foe or operating the same device). Major Effect Suggestions: You discharge a small pulse of power into your foe. Make an immediate attack against that foe (using the same stat as the action that caused the
major effect). If the attack succeeds, it deals 4 points of electrical damage.
Tier 1 Enhanced Body:
You gain +1 to Armor, +3 to your Might Pool, and +3 to your
Speed Pool. Enabler.
Traditional healing skills, medicines, and techniques work only half as well
for you. Each time you start at full health, the first 5 points of damage you take can never be healed in these ways or recovered normally. Instead, you must use repairing skills and abilities to restore those points. For example, if you start with a full Might Pool of 10 and take 8 points of damage, you can use recovery rolls to restore 3 points, but the remaining 5 points must be restored using repairing methods.
Practiced in Armor: Glaives can wear armor for long
periods of time without tiring and can compensate for slowed reactions from wearing armor. You can wear any kind of armor. You reduce the Might cost per hour for wearing armor and the Speed Pool reduction for wearing armor by 2. Enabler.
Practiced With All Weapons: You can use any weapon. Enabler.
Physical Skills: You are trained in climbing. Enabler.
Fighting Moves:
No Need for Weapons: When you make an unarmed attack (such as a punch or kick), it counts as a medium weapon instead of a light weapon. Enabler.
Thrust (1 Might): This is a powerful melee stab. You make an attack and inflict 1 additional point of damage if your weapon has a sharp edge or point. Action.
Starting Equipment:
Beyond Mountain Tribesman Clothing, fashioned from regional analogues.
Heavy Great Axe
Iron-branch Spear
Medium Armor
an explorer’s pack
two cyphers (chosen for you by the GM),
one oddity (chosen for you by the GM),
5 shins (coins).
Appearance:
Yarmr is prematurely old. He is a man who appears physically powerful, but worn by experience. His body seems swollen with power, but this is partly due to the subcutaneous plates and mylar fiber weaves through his muscles, which boost his strength and fill out his frame beyond normal ability. His form is formidable, but it is not muscle mass alone that drives off some.
Yarmr's face, sometimes hidden by his grey hair, is drawn, lined by pain and hardship. His eyes have permanent bags, and the whites are shot through with red from lack of sleep. His cheeks sometimes sag with fatigue, and his teeth, yellowed with age, grit frequently, either from pain or frustration. His jaw is often clenched, and it is not unusual to hear him grit his teeth in his sleep. Only his eyes hold a hardness akin to his body.
Personality (optional):
Yarmr is blunt, brusk, and brutal. He has little fear of blood, either his own or others, and he claims to have no love in the world. Yarmr is self-declared as free, and he often claims others have no idea what freedom is. If Yarmr is truly free, perhaps freedom is not something to be wished for.
Despite being poor company from time to time, Yarmr is honorable in his own way. He keeps to his word, and will not harm another needlessly. Those who have spoken with him note that Yarmr seems to be seeking for something. He searches everyone's face when he first meets them. Sometimes his holds his hand in front of their face, at an angle, as if measuring their facial features by some portion of his own anatomy. He will choose, sometimes, to share a story of his past, and though sorting through his story can sometimes be confusing, there is much of it to suggest he has lived a unique life. If it is possible to befriend the unpleasant man, it might be that he is the safest man to have on their side.
Background:
Yarmr is truly free. Yarmr was born far north of here. He was born to a small tribe, and knew his small village as a child. But his village was on the edge of a Proving Zone, and one year, on the Night of Proving, when the Young Unblooded went for their trial, one returned early with an infection. The metal borers had infested the poor young man, and they, in turn, used him as a host to infest the village. Yarmr, Unblooded, fled with his mother, his sister, and two cousins, and from a distance they watched their home be consumed by the Proving Zone borers. In time it gleamed with the metal sheen of the borers, and some of the dead rose to create the appearance of living, so as to lure the unwary.
Yarmr and his close kin journeyed to a nearby village, but were turned away as unclean. They would have to visit three more villages before they found a place desperate for new blood, that took them in. Here his mother, sister, and cousins found new homes and kinfolk, but Yarmr was unbolted, and so he was forced to undertake a proving at an early age, if he wished a place in his new village. Yarmr was given a spear, and sent on his trial.
Yarmr survived five days on flesh of rabbits, wolves, and a fox. He searched for a token of favor from a spirit but found little. The local Proving Zone was not as rich as that of the village of his youth.
When he returned he found one of his cousins being burned at the stake, and his kin accused of witchcraft. They were executed over the span of a week. One of the borer beetles had hidden among his kin, and had waited for a time before it began to reproduce. Already some in the village were taking on the metal skin. Yarmr Newblood was forced to search houses along with the other green warriors. It was then that Yarmr was bitten. By the end of the year, the village was abandoned. By the end of the year Yarmr noticed that he had begun to grow beyond his young manhood growth spurt. After other men halted their growth, Yarmr continued. He grew larger, stronger, and more fearsome. But this was not a blessing among his new tribe, and he was declared unclean.
Yarmr Exile was forced to wander. He was forced to live among the lowlanders. He came to know their tongue, and live in their cities. He learned their ways, although he did not make them his own.
And he met the woman who would be his wife, Naia.
He and Naia found an island far enough away from the cities to call their home. They had two children. They raised them to appreciate the land, the ways of both their father and mother, and the importance of self-reliance.
Yarmr Father found joy in simplicity.
But he was host to borers. And when his children were old enough, and he had enough livestock, and his life was truly happy, they hatched.
Yarmr only lived because of his boosted physiology. His form, made to host the borers safely, had gained enough reslience to survive the hatching. But he lost decades of his life. His hair went prematurely grey. His face grew more slack. In time he learned to rebuild himself, but he was not the man he had once been. He was a hollow, hulking shadow of his former self.
And he lost everything and everyone he loved. Even though his wife and children rose again to walk about the island, smiling and appearing joyful, they were no longer alive, but metal servants of the borers.
Yarmr was cast alone again.
Yarmr has no clan, no tribe, no village, no kin. He wanders, less a man and more a monster than anyone will know. He knows ways of killing, and he knows ways of mourning. He is intimately familiar with ways of death.
Yarmr Free is seeking to exchange his freedom to something better. He seeks redemption and forgiveness for the unforgivable. And he seeks to find a new home, even if it cannot truly be his.
Writing Sample:
Yarmr held his hand up to the young woman's face, sighting down the length of her nose, and comparing it to his thumb.
"Ugly." he finally said, shaking his head sadly. The woman, confused, suddenly looked away. Yarmr watched her retreat, and inwardly felt bad. She was likely pretty enough to a lowlander. She had the right curves, and a small red mouth that seemed inviting. But she was no Naia. She could not measure up to his late wife.
Yarmr looked at the meat on the fire. It was a meager offering, despite the apparent gratitude of the pilgrims. Some were not meat eaters, but others did not seem to have that queer practice, and so accepted his gift. Many still shied away from him.
Yarmr was still free. He took out a knife, and began to work at the flesh nearest the fire, pulling a piece away. Still spitted on his blade, he pointed it at others in the group. "Eat now. You eat? You won't burn yourself. If you wait too long, fat will be gone, and you will have only dry and savorless. Eat." None of them looked willing to take the meat from his knife. Perhaps because it was still sizzling. Yarmr took the meat from his blade, savoring the brief sting of the cooking meat on his fingers before flicking the slice into his mouth. He chuffed his breath across the hot flesh, letting it come out steaming for a few moments before chewing the meat. His tongue would not burn so easily like this, and he could still taste the savor of it.
The flavor was good. Gamey but the smoke and blood-sizzle gave it tang. "Eat." he urged again.
As the pilgrims made the choice to either eat the meat or not, Yarmr sat and took out his tools. First he tended to his axe, cleaning and honing the blade, and then making certain the blade was securely bolted to the wood. Then he began working at the links of his armor, and the holes. This last was the most delicate and taxing work, requiring picks and tines that probed the tunnels that lead deep into the hollow, empty basin that once held the metallic borer beetles. Yarmr cleared them of lint, gristle, and any parasites that intended to take up residence. And then he took the small bottle of bleach and poured it into each hole, until he could hear and feel the sizzling in his gut. There was no pain. The basin was an empty hive, or at least as empty as he could achieve every three days. But this leg of the pilgrimage was dry, and there was no river to wade into, to rinse out the bleach. He would have to do his exercises, and drain the holes carefully. Certain denizens of the wilds were attracted to the scent of bleach, and he could not afford to be careless.
As he tended and cleaned his altered flesh, he sang a tuneless song, a bad rendition of a war chant he remembered from his youth. He knew few of the words, and so tended to fill in the gaps with whatever came to mind that had roughly the right sound and length.
"Fear, Fear, oh do-og heart swinging..." he crooned, swishing the bleach inside his stomach and working gently at a bit of exposed mylar in a recent wound. "We come, come... grey and socks wi-ndy... Long arms and shanks, we draw down around us... Ride some-thing grew, the snow of the steeps."
Yarmr picked out a bit of broken tooth, from the boar-beasts he'd killed for the day's meal. He looked at the bone, and considered the scrimshaw potential of the bone. He continued the guttural singing as he looked at the exposed inner surface. "Run we all night, for night logs are fell... Sing we the song of ten new march open! And all will be few, seeding the throws! Hay! Hay! Seeding the throws."
Yarmr worked the wire, resealing the flesh, and then he looked up. Many hastily looked away, either afraid of a man not quite human, or embarassed by his singing. He didn't know the words. They were lost to him now. He considered the tooth and then flicked it away.
He'd been with the pilgrims for a month now. He had a sense that perhaps this might be a path of opportunity. They told him of a place where rejuvenation was possible. If he could reclaim his lost youth... If he could find a woman to rival Naia... If he could find a way to forge a new life...
Then he could no longer be free. He smiled at a small child that watched him from beneath his mother's skirts. The child whimpered and hid. Yarmr shrugged.
They'd all see. If they were attacked, Yarmr would help to defend them. But perhaps not the small boy. He hadn't made up his mind yet. Lowlanders didn't do the trials, but perhaps the trials were important to teach self-reliance. There would be a time that is was necessary for the child to stop hiding under his mother, and fight for himself.
Yarmr considered the others, and decided he'd be friendly if one of them chose to fight back or be honest with him. But that would be something he kept to himself. A secret to keep, like the bleach in his belly, until it was discovered, or until it was time to let it go.
This is a well-aimed, penetrating ranged attack. You make an attack and inflict 1 additional point of damage if your weapon has a sharp point. Action.
Thrust (1 Might point)
This is a powerful melee stab. You make an attack and inflict 1 additional point of damage if your weapon has a sharp edge or point. Action.
Who Carries A Quiver
Description
Archer
You can spend points from either your Speed Pool or your Intellect Pool to apply levels of Effort to increase your bow damage. Each level of Effort adds 3 points of damage to a successful attack. Enabler.
Fletcher
You are trained in making arrows. Enabler.
Additional Equipment
You start with a well-made bow and two dozen arrows.
Minor Effect Suggestion
Hit in a tendon or muscle, the target takes 2 points of Speed damage as well as normal damage.
Major Effect Suggestion
The target is pinned in place with an arrow.
Rugged Benefit
Description
Inability
You have no social graces and prefer animals to people. The difficulty of any task involving charm, persuasion,etiquette, or deception is increased by one step.
Additional Equipment
You carry an explorer’s pack. If you already have one, you can instead take 50 extra feet (15 m) of rope, two more days’ worth of rations, and an extra ranged weapon.
Glaive Abilities
Description
Practiced in Armor
You can wear any kind of armor. You reduce the Might cost per hour for wearing armor and the Speed Pool reduction for wearing armor by 2. Enabler.
Practiced With All Weapons
You can use any weapon. Enabler.
Physical Skills
You are trained in climbing. Enabler.
Starting Equipment:
Well-Made Bow
24 arrows
Knife
Spear
Clothing
Hides and Furs
---
2 Cyphers
1 Oddity
---
Explorer's Pack: Contains 50 feet (15 m) of rope, rations for three days, three spikes, hammer, warm clothes, sturdy boots, three torches, and two minor glowglobes.
Fahra Firewalker, the Mystical Nano who Bears A Halo Of Fire
Tier
Effort
Cyphers
Shins
XP
1
1
3
4
0
Stat
Current
Total
Edge
Might
7
7
0
Speed
11
11
0
Intellect
18
18
1
Skill
Trained
Specialized
Numenera
X
Esoteries
Description
Scan (2 Intellect Points)
You scan an area equal in size to a 10-foot (1-meter) cube, including all objects or creatures within that area. The area must be within short range. Scanning a creature or object always reveals its level (a measure of how powerful, dangerous, or difficult it is). You also learn whatever facts the GM feels are pertinent about the matter and energy in that area. Many materials and energy fields prevent or resist scanning. Action.
Onslaught (1 Intellect Point)
You attack a foe using energies that assail his physical form. You emit a short-range ray of force that inflicts 4 points of damage. You must be able to see your target. Action.
Hedge Magic (1 Intellect Point)
You can perform small tricks: temporarily change the color or basic appearance of a small object, cause small objects to float through the air, clean a small air, mend a broken object, prepare (but not create) food, and so on. You cannot use hedge magic to harm another creature or object. Action.
Nano Abilities
Description
Expert Cypher Use
You can bear three cyphers at a time.
Practiced With Light Weapons
You can use light weapons without penalty. If you wield a medium weapon, increase the difficulty of the attack by one step. If you wield a heavy weapon, increase it by two steps.
Numenera Training
You are trained in the numenera and can attempt to understand and identify its properties.
Bears A Halo Of Fire
Description
Fire Esoteries
If you perform esoteries, those that would normally use force or other energy (such as electricity) instead use fire. For example, force blasts from Onslaught are blasts of flame, and Flash is a burst of fire. These alterations change nothing except the type of damage and the fact that it might start fires. As another example, Barrier produces a wall of roaring flames. In this case, the alteration changes the esotery so that the barrier is not solid but instead inflicts 1 point of damage to anything that touches it and 4 points of damage to anyone who passes through it.
Shroud of Flame (1 Intellect Point)
At your command, your entire body becomes shrouded in flames that last up to ten minutes. The fire doesn’t burn you, but it automatically inflicts 2 points of damage to anyone who tries to touch you or strike you with a melee attack. Flames from another source can still hurt you. While the shroud is active, you gain +2 points of Armor that protect only against damage from fire from another source. Enabler.
Minor Effect Suggestion
The target or something near the target catches fire.
Major Effect Suggestion
An important item on the target’s person is destroyed.
Additional Equipment
You have an artifact—a device that sprays inanimate objects to make them fire-resistant. All your starting gear has already been treated unless you don’t want it to be.
Mystical Benefit
Description
Inability
You have a manner or an aura that others find a bit unnerving. The difficulty of any task involving charm, persuasion, or deception is increased by one step.
Sense "magic"
You can sense whether the numenera is active in situations where its presence is not obvious. You must study an object or location closely for a minute to get a feel for whether the touch of the ancients is at work.
Archon is a Mechanical Nano who Commands Mental Powers
Tier
Effort
Cyphers
Shins
XP
1
1
3
4
0
Stat
Current
Total
Edge
Might
10
10
0
Speed
10
10
0
Intellect
17
17
1
Skill
Trained
Specialized
Numenera
X
Esoteries
Tier
Int
Description
Scan
1
2
You scan an area equal in size to a 10-foot (1-meter) cube, including all objects or creatures within that area. The area must be within short range. Scanning a creature or object always reveals its level (a measure of how powerful, dangerous, or difficult it is). You also learn whatever facts the GM feels are pertinent about the matter and energy in that area. Many materials and energy fields prevent or resist scanning. Action.
Machine Interface
1
2
The difficulty of discerning the level, function, and activation of powered numenera devices that you touch is decreased by one step for one minute. Enabler.
Hedge Magic
1
1
You can perform small tricks: temporarily change the color or basic appearance of a small object, cause small objects to float through the air, clean a small air, mend a broken object, prepare (but not create) food, and so on. You cannot use hedge magic to harm another creature or object. Action.
Telepathic
1
1+
You can speak telepathically with others who are within short range. Communication is two-way, but the other party must be willing and able to communicate. You don’t have to see the target, but you must know that it’s within range. You can have more than one active contact at once, but you must establish contact with each target individually. Each contact lasts up to ten minutes. If you apply a level of Effort to increase the duration rather than affect the difficulty, the contact lasts for 28 hours. Action to establish contact.
Nano Abilities
Description
Expert Cypher Use
You can bear three cyphers at a time.
Practiced With Light Weapons
You can use light weapons without penalty. If you wield a medium weapon, increase the difficulty of the attack by one step. If you wield a heavy weapon, increase it by two steps.
Numenera Training (Nano)
You are trained in the numenera and can attempt to understand and identify its properties.
Numenera Training (Mechanical)
You’re trained in all actions involving identifying or understanding the numenera
Commands Mental Powers
Description
Mental Esoteries
If you have the Mind Control esotery or the Mind Reading esotery, you’re automatically trained in it. If you have both esoteries, you’re trained in both. Enabler.
Tier 1: Telepathic
See above.
Minor Effect Suggestion
The range or duration of the mental power is doubled.
Major Effect Suggestion
You can take another action on the same turn.
Additional Equipment
You have a crystal or jewel artifact that, when worn against your forehead or temple, adds 1 point to your Intellect Pool. If you’re ever without the artifact, subtract 5 points from your Intellect Pool; the points are restored if you regain the item.
Mechanical Benefit
Description
Inability
You have a manner or an aura that others find a bit unnerving. The difficulty of any task involving charm, persuasion, or deception is increased by one step.
Sense "magic"
You can sense whether the numenera is active in situations where its presence is not obvious. You must study an object or location closely for a minute to get a feel for whether the touch of the ancients is at work.
Additional Equipment
You have an extra oddity determined by the GM.
Cypher
Level
Effect
Ceramic sphere with a conspicuous button
7
tee-hee
Blue-and-black patterned headband
6
knowledge acquisition
Circular plate of grey molded foam, embossed w/runic writing in unknown language
3
mobility enhancement
Equipment:
Knife
Clothing
Cybertronic book on numenera
A star-shaped tea-bag (oddity)
A ceramic tile (oddity)
Fascinated by the borers ... what is the intelligence that drives them, and is it collective?
Believes that the souls of his family may still be in their bodies
Interested in his cybernetic jaw
Appreciates his melancholy
Fellow nano
A worldly woman with whom he can trade stories, lore, and gossip
Would be interested in her theory of genetic memory, which in some ways is exactly what the Socii are denying Archon
She probably is interested in Archon, a walking artifact (also, Yarmr)
Need to fill this in
Fellow nano
Does she know that as a vessel of flame she actually is the host for a parasitic community of nanites?
Archon knew an Icesculptor, who was the Vessel of Ice. She was the Mystic for a village in the Beyond with an obelisk of reflective glass rising from the depths of a crevice. Was that the same village, in another era when the elemental alignment was different? Or does Fahra's village have an antipodal analogue ... perhaps these obelisks exist for each element? (Or was it all a nanite dream?)
Anatrea may want to patronize Archon if she ever discovers that he harbors the remnants of minds which successfully ascended into machine immortality
Alternatively, she may want to cut him open to see what makes him tick
Trilla awkwardly pinned her knife under her arm as she again wiped her palms dry on her pants. Gronan's massive bulk loomed just ahead, while Vix was somewhere up ahead following his "lead". They'd been following Vix's increasingly evasive directions for days now, and Trilla's worries were piling up: food, water, and getting lost or eaten. These were on top of her original worry about crossing the path of real artifact hunters (if the lead was any good, surely they would be ahead of them or about to overtake them). And that didn't even touch on her panic that in the end she wouldn't be able to make heads or tails of the numenera. She'd probably just mutate or kill them all in trying.
Vix suddenly popped back from around the corner, and started conferring with Gronan, not even glancing at her.
"The fork ahead matches the route, I'm positive! But I think I heard something... we better hurry. "
Gronan nodded, loosened his sword, and set off at a steady trot after Vix, leaving Trilla to wonder why they were blundering towards an unknown sound. Her worst fears were confirmed when she heard startled yelps and the thwang of a crossbow bolt clanging off the barren rock walls around them.
Somehow avoiding dropping her knife, she forced herself forward. Gronan and Vix were raising their weapons threateningly at a large, dark-skinned man. He was tall and powerfully built... handsome even, if not for the bald head, dense tapestry of tattoos, eyes that were growing a solid, menacing red, and battle-stance grasping a blade and shield in a very knowledgeable fashion. The moment lingered, and then he straightened and began looking around intently, ignoring the three.
Gronan did not let down his guard. "Who are you and what do you want? "
The stranger snapped his gaze back abruptly. The instant when he should have answered passed, then another, and Vix muttered, "He's simple."
Then, as if the sounds prodded something into motion in his head, his whole demeanor changed. The tension left his stance, a warmth came into his eyes, and he smiled broadly, revealing a fine set of teeth. "Only simple for thinking I was alone." His voice was a surprisingly rich baritone, full of timbre as he laughed.
Gronan was still staring intently. Trilla didn't know what to think; something was definitely off, but he didn't seem as threatening now. Even his clothing, which she had first taken for a chaotic patchwork of rags, she now saw was an intricately interlaced series of cloths, almost like seeing a woven fabric under one of the Aeon Priests' magnifiers. Except rather than an orderly grid, the aesthetic seemed completely alien. She supposed one could find it beautiful once accustomed to it.
"You can call me Archon," the man continued with an apologetic shrug. "I suspect we're here for the same reason, and I suspect that we will be disappointed. But we might as well be disappointed together. I have a... knack for finding numenera, why don't we travel together? "
Before she knew what she had done, Trilla blurted out, "OK." Gronan and Vix gawked at her, but evidently decided not to pick a fight with Archon. Still they made sure to walk on the other side of her from him.
It turned out Vix had been leading them in circles for most of the day. As Archon led them up the gorge and into a new canyon, she studied him. While most of his body was hidden under his motley, she could see the tattoos on his scalp. They were actually not lines, but very narrow, continuous bands of geometric shapes, themselves looping and swirling in a strangely syncopated pattern, that somehow echoed the construction of his garb.
Sometimes, Archon would trail off in mid-sentence, or make strange deviations or excursions in his path. He would stare at indeterminate spots in the air or the ground, and then nod to himself. Often, his hands were busy fiddling with small gadgets that came and went from under his garb. At one point, as they edged along a narrow path above a precipice, he seems to lose control of his leg and nearly toppled. As he regained his balance, slapping a hand on the rebellious limb, his tattoos glowed with an angry red light.
"Did you get your tip from that snake Veris too?" Vix asked.
It took a long moment for Archon's head to come around, and even longer before comprehension appeared in his eyes. Vix cursed under his breath while he waited. "I don't know a Veris... at least, I don't think I do."
Squinting at him suspiciously, Vix continued, "Where are you leading us? This isn't where Veris said the artifact would be." "Artifact? Maybe. Some data banks are artifacts." As he said data banks, his tattoos rippled greedily. "But most are inert. The satellites still try to tie them into the datasphere, so you don't know until you trace the data stream to a terminus."
Vix shared a significant glance with Gronan but said nothing more.
Trilla was not looking forward to camp that night - another night of cold and hunger. Archon was up ahead, engaged in some ritual at the camp site. Before she could move to join him, her two original companions stepped in front of her.
"While we have a private moment..." Vix began.
Trilla glanced at Gronan, who nodded. She sighed, and crossed her arms. "Even you should be able to see this guy's trouble - crazy and dangerous." "Gee, nice opening. Good evening to you too," she replied sarcastically.
Ignoring her, Vix continued to run through his speech. "You know those aren't tattoos, right? They're numenera... like, ciphers or esoteries, or something." "That's not what those are," Trilla snapped. "Gods you're bad at this stuff." She paused and considered. "They could be nanites... but it would take so many to look like that." "I think," Gronan ventured carefully, "that he's an automaton with a bad personality circuit." "So, why are you following him?"
Vix licked his lips. "I can smell the crazy rolling off him, and it smells crazy like a fox... very lucrative. But after we get wherever we're going, that's going to be the end of the road for our wacko friend."
Trilla shivered. "What makes you think he won't kill you?" "What makes you think he'll even notice he's been killed?"
Gronan rolled his shoulders. "It can be done." Vix jabbed her in the collarbone. "You haven't been pulling your weight around here, and you're going to have a choice to make when the time comes."
She smacked his hand away, and with a glare stomped up to the camp.
"What was that about?" Archon asked as he finished setting up his devices.
This time it was Trilla. Who waited an extra moment. "Nothing, she finally answered. Just Vix being an ass." "Well then," Archon smiled with a gentle simplicity. For a moment, it seemed like she was seeing the smile inside her head as much as through her eyes.
He leaned back on his haunches, and looked around with satisfaction.
As the other two slowly came near, Archon gestured at the stacked wood before him and a cheerful fire quickly blazed to life.
"Have you heard the stories of the gremlin jackals?" he casually asked, and launched into a long and entertaining tale about young tribal rivals playing escalating pranks upon one another until they received their comeuppance. From there, he segued into a varied melange of rumors and gossip from across the Steadfast and Beyond.
As he spoke, he pulled together bits of food and with another wave of his hand produced delightfully delicious smells. Trilla devoured her pot, which contained a type of lamb pilaf full of cinnamon, turmeric, and other exotic flavor combinations. After some hesitation, Gronan and Vix scarfed their food as well. When they were done, Archon served them a milky tea with hints of caramel.
Trilla could feel the tension draining away. As darkness fell, Archon's stories were periodically punctuated by different colored lights emanating from behind his back and drifting around them. She noticed that certain people, places, and events were reappearing in his tales, but in contradictory fashion - who was the murderer and who was the victim? Was it the town of Cha or of Overton, which are not near each other? She realized she was drifting in and out of sleep, but it was hard to tell which was which.
By the end, she realized that some of his little asides were only being picked up by her. Were the others still awake? She wasn’t completely sure his mouth was moving when he spoke some of them. Her last thought was that maybe Archon was himself an artifact, a strange but attractive relic left over from another age.
***************************************
They set out early the next morning. If Vix and Gronan weren't smiling, at least they seemed more quiescent, and Trilla could imagine things improving over time.
She was rudely disabused of the notion while Archon was intently drawing and obliterating sketches in the dirt.
"Have you made your decision?" Vix hissed.
Trilla gaped. "You've got to be kidding me! What about last night?" "What about it?"
They stared into each other's eyes silently. "I'll warn him." "Do what you have to do; we will too."
Paralyzed with worry and indecision, Trilla didn't mention anything to Archon. As the sun rose, the two talked of places they wanted to see. "I've heard that there are vast data lakes deep in the catacombs beneath Qi," Archon was saying. His tattoos did their writhing thing at the mention of the data lakes. "I would like to... process... them. Their beauty, I mean."
Trilla hid a small smile. "What do you think you would find in them?"
Archon chose his words carefully. "I think you're aware ... there are tiny and vast wonders all about us" When he continued speaking, his mouth stayed closed, yet she could hear him clearly in her head. She gave a tiny gasp of wonder. Sometimes passing through or... in us. We might never see them, or at most as a wisp or tiny cloud. I would look for some of those wonders. I have heard of luminous swarms along the Wandering Walk, maybe they are like that too. She discovered that she could respond to him in kind, thinking directly at him. I should like to see these swarms, and you may be right---
He suddenly stopped moving and held very still, face turned off to his side. Then, he set off at a trot. "This way!" he shouted, excitement in his voice.
Trilla ran after him, although he was much faster and he quickly outdistanced her, disappearing around the bend. As she came around, she say him crouching warily up ahead, regarding a jumble of rocks and metal.
But something was wrong. As she went to join him, her legs weren't responding. Instead, she was sinking to the ground. In shock, she looked down to see a blade piercing out of stomach.
"I warned you," Vix hissed, barely pausing as he advanced to the side and behind Archon. Gronan glanced at her, now resting precariously on top of her folded legs, and she saw some cursory remorse... but not much. He too moved forward, blade drawn. Trilla fell over on her side, and tried to find the strength to call out a warning. When she couldn’t seem to draw sufficient breath into her lungs, she tried reaching out with her mind, but that way was closed as well.
Then she saw that Archon was not holding his typical gadget in his hand, but a very functional and dangerous looking device that fit into his palm. His eyes were not blank, but carefully neutral. His tattoos glowed softly. He knows! And he's waiting for them to make the first move!
Vix tried to make a surprise strike at his back, but at precisely the right moment Archon spun around and flashed his empty hand at Vix's face. Several small lights appeared directly in front of Vix's eyes, causing him to tangle his feet just as he prepared to lunge forward. In the next breath, Archon tossed the device between Vix and Gronan, immediately diving backwards.
The spike bomb went off with deadly effect, pylons lancing out in all directions from a central sphere. The two unfortunate men were lanced all the way through multiple times and died instantly. Archon stared at them silently for a moment, tallying the results, then nodded and walked over to Trilla.
He licked his lips, a look of uncertain sadness on his face. "I'm afraid I have not been good luck to your party," he murmured, as he eyed the wound and the pool of blood rapidly spreading beneath her.
I... hope you... find what... you're looking for. This time the mental channel was open.
Archon sighed. What I'm looking for. The nanites seek, but I don't know where they stop and I start.
Do you... think I... could travel with you? Them?
Archon extended a hand above her heaving chest, hesitating. I get confused. I don't remember a before, if I have done this for an eon or a year, if I am the most recent in a series or the first and only. I don't know if what you ask is possible, although I think I have at least dreamt it.
What...
But she never finished her thought and there was no more light in her eyes. Archon hesitated again, then let the nanites reclaim what organic matter they could from her. Was she now a part of him? If so, would he be able to pick out her voice from the chorus of the Socii?
The databank turned out to be inert.
Archon woke up with a start, sitting straight up in the dark and unfamiliar Mouth Cairn. The dream had been so vivid. He could still smell Trilla's blood. But he had killed Vegis, not Vix and Bronan. And Trilla had been like a sister to him, not a lover. Or the other way around?
He looked down at his rags in the darkness. Nothing unusual. Had he been wearing that marvelous patchwork when he met Trellia? Or had she made it for him? Maybe he should make something like that now. Triva would be so pleased.
No, she was dead. Who? Triva? Trilla? Yrill? The dream was fading, leaving him with nothing more than a tremendous sense of loss. Was there a lost companion riding his mind along with the Socii collective? Or was this just a story the nanites had whispered to him during his travels?
Pulling his knees up to his chin, Archon closed his eyes, and tried to quiet the tumult in his mind. It would be morning soon, and there was so much to do.
Last edited by driftwood; May 7th, 2015 at 03:38 AM.
I am Imyniyah Bagha an Inquisitive Nano who Wields Power with Precision.
Source of Power: Forbidden Knowledge
Tier: 1 Effort: 1 XP: 0
Stat
Current
Total
Edge
Might
7
10
0
Speed
9
11
0
Intellect
21
22
1
Pool: 6
Attacks:
Skills:
Expert Cypher User
Practiced with Light Weapons
Numenera Training
Hedge Magic
Resonance
Inabilities:
Fixates on detail - Hear or Notice Danger +1 Step
See something Interest and hesitate - Initiative in combat +1 Step
Equipment:
3 Cyphers
A canister made of synthsteel with a hose and a wide nozzle on the end.
A metal amulet adorned with valuable stones and garnets.
A temporary tattoo that appears to be a iconograph of an unrecognizable creature appearing to talk to another unrecognizable creature.
An Oddity
A preserved yellow flower. When you blow on it, it lights up with a deep green color.
Clothing
2 books about numenera
book about geography
book about folklore
book about the history of the Steadfast
knife
4 shins
Connection:
Imyniyah (Immy) is a striking young woman with a beautiful face and long blonde hair. Her face is tattooed is seven thin black lines in a mirrored pattern. The middle line runs the short distance from her bottom lip to the point of her chin. Two longer curved lines run horizontally above her eyebrows ending at her temples. Below each eye two vertical line curves from her the bottom of her eye to her jaw line, one in line with the centre of her eye and the other with the outside corner. The lines together with her vibrant green eyes give her a tiger-like impression to her appearance.
The style of facial tattoo is a tradition for the women born in Immy’s family and is a thinly veiled salute to the old Tiger rulers of Qi under which the Baghas first came to prominence.
The nano’s skin is pale and she is of shorter than average stature and thin build. Immy prefers to be attired in dark plain sensible clothing.
A reserved and studious young lady, Immy can be sometimes be mistaken aloof and elitist. Though she often distracted by her studies and things around she is at heart a social being who enjoys good company and highly values friendship. Her mother educated her in the finer of points of social etiquette while her observances of her father’s trading business has taught her bluntness and the common touch.
Though quiet in nature Immy can be quite stubborn and forcible about her opinion once she has established it based on a strong foundation of facts. She doesn’t suffer fools or being thought less of because of her gender. The Draolis’ trait of arrogance and seeing Qi as the centre of the universe still rears its ugly head in Immy at times, but she is aware of it and working to rid herself of this prejudice.
Imyniyah was born the second child of a wealthy trader in the great city of Qi. She had a privileged childhood and because she had an elder was free of some of the burden of parental expectations. Her mother taught her to be a young lady, but also indulged her passion for books and learning.
By accident her father uncovered her uncanny knack for being able to detect nuumenera. This gave the father an edge in trading and his daughter became far more interesting to him. The father encouraged the daughter to further her abilities and she study at the prestigious University of Qi.
Through her studies Immy felt she was on the verge of a great discovery. Numenera exists in all things and in all people. Some knowledge of numenera can be garnered by collecting and using items, but the real road to discovery is an internal journey. Immy believed that all beings have genetic memory and the key to understanding numenera and the eight previous worlds is to unlock this hidden cache of memories. This theory she kept to herself it was a time of holy war and one couldn’t afford to be branded a heretic. Her theory was too closely aligned to the animistic beliefs of the Gaeans to be revealed publicly, even though her belief was the truth lay somewhere between the views of the Papacy and the Gaeans.
Immy made the toughest decision of her life to leave the comfort and safety of Qi and to begin an external journey to help facilitate her inner journey. The Wandering Walk had been a subject of fascination for her with the Bloodscars of the Peregrines possibly being an external display of inner numenera. So beyond the Trembling Pass seemed a good place to begin her journey of discovery.
Imyniyah was studying in the back room of one of her family’s shops in the upper level of the Great Market of Qi. This was her favourite place to study surrounded by artifacts and cyphers her father had sourced from across Steadfast and the Beyond. She could feel the numenera filling the room and nourishing her soul.
Through the gap in the curtain Immy could see a new customer enter the shop. The man was lean, almost emaciated and seemed to be more machine than flesh. Most strikingly the left side of his cranium was shiny metal and seemed to have a number of displays and buttons built into it. Opened mouth the young nano traced the central line of her face tattoo with her index finger and tried to take in the bizarre sight. She opened up the curtains and went to help her father serve the customer.
“What can I help with today good sir?” her father asked.
“I have a small artefact to sell,” the stranger replied as he pulled a bracelet out of his pocket and placed it on the counter.
Immy picked up the golden bracelet it had a complex interwoven pattern of reds wires embedded in it and she could immediately sense it strong field of numenera. She nodded to her father to let him know it was a true artifact.
The man looked at Immy and then turned to her father, “It is acts as a shield against missiles. I would keep it, but it is incompatible with me.”
The young nano looked at the man and thought, what a strange phrase. Has he lost himself to his tech-implants. There are so many questions I would ask him if I dare. I can feel numenera radiating from him, is it his being or the machinery? If it is the machinery has he lost touch with own inner numenera.
It was at this moment Immy had a realisation, it was not an epiphany because she had been contemplating this matter for a long time. It was more a crystallisation of her personal philosophy regarding the nature of numenera. Machinery can only take you so far. To uncover the true nature of numenera and to unravel the secrets of the past we must look within ourselves. Our organic selves are the product of all history and therefore we all must have that history imprint on our very souls. If only we can learn to read them.
Meanwhile her father was concluding the purchase of the bracelet, “No thank you sir for bringing me such a fine object.”
The stranger collect his payment and went to turn to leave, but instead faced Immy and said, “Would you like to touch my cranium unit? You haven’t stopped staring at.”
Despite herself Immy need to gather all the information she could to help her interrogated her theory. She replied, “Sorry, but it is quite a unique enhancement. I will touch it if that is alright.” With a quivering hand she reached and felt the metal. It’s warm, I can feel the numenera. It all seems to be coming from the unit, wait there is a trace signal from the man. It so weak, so overwhelmed and so tainted.
Instinctively she withdrew hand with an audible gasp. Her social training kicked in and she said, “It certainly is unique and so powerful, it has left me a little shocked.”
The stranger smiled and left with a pocketful of shins.
Immy smiled she had just received a valuable insight into the nature of numenera that would shape the rest of her life.
Abilities:
• Fits of Insight: GM grants you knowledge or insight with no clear explanation at least once per-session
• Erratic Behaviour: When subjected to great stress or making a major numenera discovery, the GM gets a free intrusion against you
• Practiced With Light and Medium Weapons
• Flex Skill
• Pierce (1 Speed)
Inabilities:
Inability at defending against mental attacks
Equipment:
• Clothing (Worn gentleman's garb)
• Two weapons (Dagger, Shortbow)
• Light Armour (Padded leather Jerkin under his vest)
• An explorer's pack
• A pack of light tools
• Two cyphers (chosen for you by the GM)
• One oddity (chosen for you by the GM)
• A deck of Tarot Cards that helps him perceive what others cannot
• 8 Shins
I am a Mad Jack who Sees Beyond
Mad Marnet "Marney" Vasque
Marnet is a lanky adolescent youth, just shy of five and a half feet. He has raven hair and eyes the color of dirty ice. His hair lays limp against his pale skin and lips and he fidgets constantly, sometimes flicking the ends of his hair out of his mouth, sometimes making swatting motions at the open air as if he sees something. You can tell from the roped muscles in his arms that he is no stranger to physical exertion, but his lithe build lacks the weight behind it to put any real force behind behind him. He is wearing clothes that are much too nice for a young man this far out in the middle of no-where: what appears to be linen pants, a bowler and a shirt that buttons all the way to the collar. Looking more closely you realize the sweat stains and frayed edges of his garb, he has traveled far wearing just this outfit.
A smile and a smirk are never far from his face. He is filled with the arrogance that only naivety can supply.
He attempts to be as genial and gentlemanly as possible but often fails due to an occasion tic. He swats intermittently at the air in front of him, as if to swat at some creature in front of him.
He is however eager to please and often uses minor esoteries to bring smiles to the faces of those around him, or at least attempt to.
Marnet is an urchin from Shallamas. He was raised as part of the thieving outfit by a pawn-broker named Ragge. Despite his part in this, Marnet was able to keep his hands relatively clean.
Marnet never stole--he merely distracted the group’s mark until the other boys did. Marney liked pretending he was part of upper-class society, he liked feeling like he fit in there. Ragge did his best to make his “Little Gentlemen” go unnoticed in the more posh parts of town furnishing them with nice clothes that would allow them to hide in plain sight.
One day he stole a deck of cards from what he thought was a woman in the streets of Shallamas. As he held the deck in front of him the woman faded from view and a card floated into the air in front of his face. Marney froze as the card glowed brighter and brighter.
The next morning Marney woke, confused and alone outside the city gates. The occasional echoes of the city seem to be constant not and not mere recitations of the past. Now they are creatures that interact with Marney, begging him to follow where they lead. They have directed him to the Wandering Walk through a mixture of pretty pictures and debilitating migraines ducking into a mouth cairn for the night Marney realizes he must share the space with a group of unlikely companions.
"Hello." The young boy starts slowly,"You can call my Marney. My proper name is Marnet Varque, but most folk round he… back home, just call me Marney."
Marney adjusts his gaudy hat, removing a deck of cards, and countinues on. "How’d I get here?"
He quickly shuffles the deck in mid-air, several of the cards falling out only to replace themselves in the deck. Noting your interest, he snatches one out of the air and you are pretty sure he palmed it, but can’t be certain.
He holds the entire deck up at eye level. With a flick he pulls a card out of thin air—a man hanging upside-down with his ankle tied to a tree branch far above him. "Let’s start at the beginning shall we?" You are unsure if the kid’s confidence is bugging you or endearing him to you.
"Used to work for a guy named Ragge. Ugly name for an ulgy fella." Marney pauses for a second and looks innocently up from his deck of cards. "He said it--not me…"
Marnet Varque woke, his back stiff from lying on the ground all night, but warm from the pipe he was lying on.
The sun was barely shining on the City of Echoes, but that was game time for their kind.
Urchins in Shallamas start early, or at least the good ones do. "And we are the good ones" Marnet sighed, remembering Ragge’s constant boasting.
Urchins get spotted from a mile away, but Ragge owned a pawn shop, and was willing to lend out the nicer bits of finery to his “Little Gentlemen” in order to help them blend in areas of the town "Where the takings were less provincial." as Ragge was wont to say.
Marnet used to think he got dressed in the most stifling get-up he could, but after a year of wearing buttons and other foppery, it was simply natural. Today he choose a tall black hat and a shirt that buttoned all the way to the collar.
As usual, Marney wouldn’t be doing any of the actual thievery. He had the nuanced morals only an adolescent can boast of.
Marney never stole. Marney simply distracted people, and amused them, and talked to them. His ruffian cohabitants of the alley—They stole. Never Marney.
Marney’s morning musings ended while combing his raven hair off of his pale forehead, and stared into his grey-brown eyes.
"Someday I’ll get out of this hole." He spoke, half to himself and half to the polished length of piping he used to perfect his getup.
Marney always tried to find the marks before his gang found him. It made him feel less dirty somehow.
"Innabeth, you have to come see, Rathmoar just got a new shipment from Navarene." An old crone with far too much perfume called to someone far too dainty to be her kin.
The crowd parted and Marney swooned. She must have been early twenties, and from the look of her complexion, never spent half a minute in a sandstorm. She stepped forward with an unnatural grace and carried a cog-bag with constantly moving and clicking gears.
Her beauty was beyond compare and Marney found himself slack-jawed in awe of her. That is, until she noticed his stare and giggled at him. As she turned, Marney’s face burned with shame, anger, and all manner of unwholesome emotions. He had to prove that he wasn't just some creep! Maybe if he returned something to her? Something valuable? Something Personal? Marnet's mind whirred like the cogs on Innabeth's bag...
Feeling every bit the fool, he raced after her, and slipped a small dagger out of his belt. Ignoring the buzzing in is ears, he stalked closer and cut the strap that held the cog-bag around Innabeth's shoulder. Marney held his breath as after three short steps Innabeth stopped walking.
Cursing Marney stared dead ahead as the woman turned, slowly to face him.
She smiled. She smiled and Marney couldn't help but smile back.
She smiled.
And then faded away.
"That's impossible." Marney stared in disbelief. Echos happened all the time, but everyone knew that you couldn't touch them. You couldn't interact with them. Without thinking he stormed all the way back to Ragge’s pawn shop.
He arrived and leaned back on Ragge's counter, the "Little Gentlemen" would have to do without him for the day.
"Now you know I don’t take any stolen goods kid. Want me to call the guard?" Ragge enunciated several decibels too loudly. Marnet looked down. In one hand he was holding his dagger, in the other he was clutching the cog-bag so tightly that he could see his veins pumping under his pale skin. Customers stared at the frayed bag-strings that hung lifeless to the floor.
Marney cursed and stumbled outside. He ran.
Finally he found an abandoned alley-way. He slumped to the ground against a rusted metal door. Nervously he peeked inside the bag. A deck of well-worn, well-inked playing cards. His heart-beat was still in his chest, but he forced it down until his shaking hands could carefully flip through the deck.
Numenera--It had to be. The inked drawings of the characters moved as he watched them. A majority of the cards contained some number of four objects, swords, a shins, cups or cyphers. The swords fought, the cups spun and twinkled, the shins flipped and shined, and the cyphers created all sorts of amazing shows. Some of the cards were beautiful: a muscled glaive held duel swords and covered her eyes with a blindfold. Some were terrifying: a jack lay face down in the dirt with ten swords sheathed in his back and a dust storm brewing in the distance.
"Hello." Looking up, Marney jumped and dropped the deck of cards. A young girl of nine or ten years, with complexion as perfect as Innabeth's floated upside down in front of him.
Marney ran. He got about ten paces before he slipped and fell to the ground. "Your turn" a girlish giggle proclaimed. The cog-bag like gigantic perverse inch-worm slowly dragged itself to Marney's feet. Marney tried to kick it off, but found that he couldn't move his limbs, he simply had to watch as the cut strings tied themselves tight around his right ankle.
With a lurch that threatened to cause him to retch, he was pulled upside-down, floating into the middle of the street. While he watched the girl-echo-nano... whatever she was slowly and carefully picked up the cards and reached up to hand them back to the cog-bag. The bag, open like the maw of some fantastic beast swallowed them hungrily. A combination of disbelief, nausia and the blood flowing to his head made his vision swim. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a single card seemingly peering out at him from within the bag. A man hanging upside-down by his ankle.
Since then the world seemed to hum. The cards spoke to Marney quite literally. And on the few occasions Marney had the gall to refuse them, they just reminded him of the card with the ten swords.
__And now you're getting it... There is always more than meets the eye___
Marnet Vasque finished his story by replacing the deck of cards under the hat on his head. And you aren’t sure that he told you the story using his voice or if you saw it in the cascade of the cards.
Last edited by StartTheTilt; May 8th, 2015 at 07:22 PM.