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Old May 11th, 2022, 10:15 AM
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Score: Who You Gonna Call...?

Eleventh Hour. 32nd of Kalivet, 847IE. Silkshore.
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Warden Card
(silent, perceptive, authoritative)
It was perhaps odd to conduct Moonraker business at this hour. It was the time of day when "normal", legitimate enterprises were closing up shop. Or would have been if the entire district weren't under lockdown. The eerie, yellowish-golden tint of... whatever lay behind the shroud of eternal darkness had just begun to peek through the sky; its random fuzzy flashes and slow ebbs of light just distracting enough to catch the eye without actually providing enough illumination to aid the electroplasmic streetlights. Streetlights which were to be left on as part of the Spirit Wardens' emergency declaration to keep themselves, their deputies, and the citizens of Silkshore as safe as possible during this tumultuous event. An unlikely time to be pulling a job, but the circumstances of said job were unlikely in-and-of themselves, and the uniquely attuned Cascabel recommended twilight hours as opportunistic for those interested in harvesting wayward spirits. Something about the "veil between worlds" along with esoteric comments about said veil being thinned by the remnants of the luminous heavenly body trying desperately to re-emerge into the mortal world.

Reasoning and timing aside, the Moonrakers were here to do a job; bottle spirits. It was their A colloquialism synonymous with "bread and butter".mushroom stew, so to speak. They were smugglers, and as such they needed contraband to smuggle. If their annalist were to look back with hindsight one might spin a tale of the crafty crew detonating the warehouse on purpose just so they could swoop in afterwards and reap the rewards. It made perfect sense, and painted them as architects of their own success. In reality, lucky and opportunistic might be more apt descriptors, however no one would begrudge them a bit of creative licensing now and then.

Before their deeds could be embellished, however, they had to first be executed. The Moonrakers sailed Charon through the Crow's Foot-Charhollow channel and past Tangletown. Or rather, their new cohort did. The rovers that Kink had assembled and put in charge of their boat's operation were... passable. The fact that none of them were familiar with a steamboat's propulsion, engine, or maintenance was, perhaps ironically, a point in their favor, seeing as how they were able to get it clear across Duskwall without breaking it! Both inlets leading into Silkshore's waterways were blockaded by several Warden patrol boats; each one larger than Charon and outfitted with armaments capable of dealing with threats both mundane and supernatural. Still more watercraft sailed up and down the district's shoreline, and every once in awhile the expulsion of weaponry resounded in the distance as the Wardens kept the ghost-threat from spilling out of Silkshore and into neighboring districts.

The Moonrakers didn't get within 100 yards of the shore before they were stopped. Scurlock's forged authorization was produced and several tense minutes went by as both it and the Scoundrels were scrutinized. If their ruse was discovered not only would they be out a very lucrative score, but the Spirit Wardens would have them by the short and curlies... Eventually a collective sigh of relief was released as their papers were deemed authentic and they were given leave to "assist" in the ghost clean-up with the Wardens' blessings. Blessings... and a chaperone, apparently.

right-aligned image
As one of their bronze-masked personnel boarded Charon their Captain explained the disagreeable situation, "By order of the Wardens, every group deputized to enter Silkshore and assist in the humanitarian efforts are to be accompanied by one of our members to ensure proper procedures are being followed. Warden Card will remain with you for the duration of your time in Silkshore. You may contain, eliminate, or otherwise incapacitate spirits at your discretion, however the laws of Duskwall and the safety of its citizenry are to be upheld at all times. Every single captured spirit is to be returned to one of our patrol boats upon the conclusion of your tour. Good luck, and may the Eternal Emperor watch over you." It was abundantly clear by the Captain's tone and the measures they had already taken that this was a non-negotiable stipulation. The Warden assigned to the Moonrakers, Spirit Warden identities are always kept anonymous, even among their own order.Card being the given handle, was sure-footed, hopping from one boat to the next gracefully. They did not speak, but simply looked over the crew. It was clear they were committing every detail of your boat and your crew to memory and would harbor none of the usual fast-talking cons that the crew had employed in the past. Still, if the Moonrakers expected to return to the lighthouse with a hold full of contraband, Warden Card would need to be none-the-wiser!


A complex series of hand signals, different but not entirely unlike the ones Thalente had employed, passed between Card and the Captain before they were waved through. Once some distance had passed and they were in Silkshore proper, their senses grew... muted. Most obvious was the thick fog that hung heavy in the air, a Scoundrel was hard-pressed to see more than a hundred feet in front of them before fading into a mist that obscured sight and dampened every breath. Sound also seemed to stop short; the stillness surrounding them hiding the rampaging ghosts that were surely never too far. Every now and again a sharp sound cut through, however. The shouts and clatter of Wardens or other deputies engaging hostile forces. The single, blood-curdling scream of a poor soul encountering a wild spirit and faring the worse for it. Shrieks and long, drawn out groans of the ghosts themselves, trapped between worlds. Such sounds were singular punctuations, however, and faded quickly between the seconds or minutes of stifling silence.

Being here now, in the middle of it all, one could appreciate better what Cascabel meant by the veil being thinner. Whether it was the time of day or the sheer amount of spiritual energy surging through the district or some combination of those and other factors, it would have been easy to assume they had left their relatively mundane reality and sailed straight into the ghostfield itself!

With Warden Card ever-vigilant, the Moonrakers were here, now. Flashes of blue, white, black, and purple played at the edges of their perception where ghosts flitted about inside buildings or across abandoned alleyways... Spirits were surely not going to be hard to find, the question was; how were they going to deal with them?

OOCEngagement Roll: 4! The Moonrakers have successfully gained entrance to Silkshore under authorization from the Spirit Wardens, however they have been saddled with a babysitter who certainly won't willingly let them leave the district with a hold full of spirit bottles to sell on the black market!

Good luck!
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Last edited by MoldyNolds; May 16th, 2022 at 07:50 AM.
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Old May 12th, 2022, 09:36 AM
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The Sleeper Awakens
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Asleep. That's how the Moonraker's new blood, Pawn, spent his time aboard the sly vessel as it motored down the canal. Apparently, they were to pose as mercenary spirit wranglers to — was he getting this right? — double-dip from a previous score wherein they had blown up an entire warehouse full of spirit bottles, hence the whole ground zero for spooks and spook-adjacent folk. And the more he thought about it, that did sound a lot more fun than being a run-of-the-mill juvenile delinquent, kinda.

It wasn't until they had been boarded by their enigmatic chaperone, Warden Card, that the hunky, muscle-headed goon decided to fully rouse from his slumber somewhere along a seat near the bow.

"We sure he's not a spirit," Ken mused through a snicker. "Looks creepy enough to me."

After running his hands through that golden mane, and being reminded that he was still wearing gang paraphernalia in the form of ratty club jacket, Pawn decided it was best not to arouse any more suspicion than necessary and ditched the coat beneath his seat.

"Say, Phantom of the Opera, there, like, a bonus per a certain number of bottles we fill — maybe for taking out a particularly nasty see-through-chump?" While very much realizing the crew had no intention of turning over anything, and very likely wanted to ditch this stiff before too long, Pawn didn't see the harm in poking and prodding for nothing more than idle conversation at the least. "Just curious."



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Last edited by Chylopan; May 13th, 2022 at 10:55 AM.
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Old May 13th, 2022, 06:56 PM
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Kink
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"Drive astern! Bear round the bow! To port! Not that way, the other! PORT!"

Kink’s voice was haggard from screaming at the new Rovers, who he’d hoped were more skilled than they were. No! They knew their ropes, but they had either little experience, or were shabby and weak from their lifestyles up to this point. More of Caramon’s stew for Jockey… Instead he’d been running between bow and stern fending off to prevent damage to the Charon and other vessels they came upon in the tight confines of the Duskwall canals and waterways. And teaching them his knowledge gleaned from operating the family merchant vessels back in the Dagger Isles.

He taught the bowline knot; the timing of the motor’s compression switch; the way the Charon swung hard astern in reverse (handy for getting around tight canal corners); and when to hit the reverse gear when docking. And what everything was called. Tar followed him up over the gunwales on to the dock where they tied off and where they were boarded by the Spirit Wardens and their babysitter, Card.

Kink face was a picture of grimace and incredulity as he followed back on to the vessel, He’d not even asked permission to come aboard! Obviously not experienced on the salty brine… as Card settled in like he belonged there. It was infuriating for the Hound. "Ahem, lads… a word please." he beckoned the rest of the crew below decks while Pawn attempted to engage the ”Phantom of the Opera” in chat. He whispered harshly at Khunbish and Fortune, his mood getting worse with every moment. "’e’s gonna ruin the score! We can’t have him aboard. This mamaluke’s gotta go. Overboard. With some lead around ‘is ankles." Kink stretched his neck to ensure Card was out of ear shot, "We’ll take ‘is mask… that’s right. And one of us’ll pose as ‘im. That’s right. Wear the mask. That’s the only way we’re gonna keep what spirits we find! Or afterward we say he fell overboard! There has to be a way to get rid of him so we can operate properly…"

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Old May 14th, 2022, 09:36 AM
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Eleventh Hour. 32nd of Kalivet, 847IE. Silkshore.
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Warden Card
(silent, perceptive, authoritative)
"Say, Phantom of the Opera, there, like, a bonus per a certain number of bottles we fill — maybe for taking out a particularly nasty see-through-chump? Just curious."


Card's half of the conversation was almost non-existent. There were no words. No body language to affirm or deny Pawn's query. In fact, turning their head to regard the Cutter was the only indication that they had even heard him! The Warden simply regarded Pawn from behind their mask for a moment before returning their gaze to... everywhere else.

And Card certainly did seem to be able to perceive quite a bit. As they moved deeper into Silkshore their head whipped to and fro several times, pointing out movement or sounds seconds before any of the Moonrakers could. They made no move to follow Kink and the others below decks, content to remain above and survey the deserted neighborhoods of Silkshore. They appeared to maintain a calm state of readiness. Never sitting or leaning, knees bent to accommodate the movements of Charon. It was clear they anticipated danger at any moment, and that they were well-trained to deal with it. Whether or not they would offer assistance was another matter entirely, perhaps the crew's scheming below decks would remove Warden Card from their presence before they needed to find out...

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Last edited by MoldyNolds; May 16th, 2022 at 07:50 AM.
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Old May 16th, 2022, 12:39 AM
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fixing the complicationKhunbish looked at Kink, opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. It was as good an idea as any, he supposed. "Catching him unawares isn't going to be easy, but maybe an opportunity will present itself while we are collecting ghosts. Which we'll have to start doing soon or Card will get suspicious." The leech pondered the problem for a moment and shrugged. "Dambala is likely to be a key part of assaulting him, I suspect. So we need to look for ghost takedown opportunities along side canals out of sight of the spirit wardens."
OOCIt sounds like I'm suggesting a Survey roll. MoldyNolds, is that going to apply towards filling the first ghost clock?
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Old May 18th, 2022, 11:19 PM
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HEY ANYBODY SEEN SOME GHOSTS!?The rage Marlista had awakened in Khunbish had accelerated his metamorphosis into a true scoundrel of Duskwall. While before he had thoughT that isn't something I can say to people, now he was more likely to think, how do I get them to listen to me? He had to face it; he needed to be more of a people person. So he talked to the gondoliers, the streetwalkers, the scroungers (who pulled junk, algae, or bodies from the canals), to anyone who could tell the 'ghostbusters' where alleys and low-travel canals were being harassed by ghosts. A few people understandably didn't want anyone asking questions about their neighborhood business, which Khunbish understood. And after assuring them he didn't give a damn about their private affairs he blunty pointed out that they needed to cooperate. "You want the spirits out of your hair, don't you?"

He didn't do too badly, actually. He had been learning the fine art of making friends and influencing people. He consciously looked to Kink for inspiration, as the brash scoundrel had a poise and confidence that the leech envied, whether the Dagger Isle man was trying to be terrifying or charming. But in reality it was Beau that the young Iruvian was using as a model. Because the leech still suffered from a touch of imposter syndrome, and therefore looked to the king of impostor syndrome. Not that he would admit it.
OOCRolled a 6 on Sway to get info on ghost locations, especially locations out of sight and accessible from Charon.
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Old May 19th, 2022, 05:04 PM
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Eleventh Hour. 32nd of Kalivet, 847IE. Silkshore.
left-aligned image
The streets of Silkshore would normally be bustling at this hour with citizens and nobles alike leaving their places of business or domiciles to roam the district's blocks and blocks of vice dens, food stalls, and brothels that Silkshore was known for. At present, however, it was more deserted than even the decrepit and isolated corner of Six Towers where the Moonrakers kept court! And every figure that was caught scuttling between buildings could just as easily have been a wayward spirit as a real, flesh-and-blood person.

But Khunbish was on a mission.

Undeterred by the eerie mists and haunting sounds of an entire district given over to madness, the Leech chased down frightened individuals and banged on doors. He rooted out Gondoliers from their sheltered alcoves under the streets. With pointed questions and promises of aid he ended up leading the crew to a neighborhood just a stone's throw from the very building they detonated a week prior. Fogcrest was Silkshore's largest residential area and, built on a hilltop, it offered just as many vertical avenues as horizontal, if not more. Staircases and vertical inclines could be accessed at virtually any mooring to bring them higher up into the ward. The canals ran through long stone tunnels under the district just as often as open air. The stacks of rowhousing grew higher and higher until at least eight or nine stories of stone, mortar, and wood towered over them. Several levels of cobblestone street and bridge crisscrossed above their heads, and in the darkness it became difficult to tell where structure ended and sky began, despite the streetlights that each cast their own small pool of hazy light.

right-aligned image
As Charon sailed deeper in the chugging of her engine bounced off their enclosed space, still muted among the mists. If the multitude of frightened citizenry were to be believed this area would be relatively free from Spirit Wardens, their attentions more focused on high profile areas such as The Ease or Ankhayat Park or the Consulate Offices. There were no shops in Fogcrest, no reason for anyone to open their locked doors.

right-aligned image
Unless, of course, they were fleeing for their lives.

A shriek pulled everyone's attention to the street directly above them, portside. A man and woman fled down a wooden staircase from further up, clearly terrified. Racing past the crew, the couple didn't even register the boat full of Scoundrels just below them. At the bottom step the man tripped and fell to the cobblestone, banging his knees and wrists hard. He lay there for a moment while the woman, presumably his wife, or perhaps his sister, skidded to a halt and turned back to help him. Before she could reach him, however, a pair of spirits descended and closed the distance. One quickly discorporated into the fallen man, and the seizure he was enduring told the Moonrakers everything they needed to know about what was happening. Trembling and sobbing voicelessly, the woman dared not get any closer but nor could she flee; she was rooted in terror.

The crew watched in morbid fascination as the man jerked to his knees with disturbing, unnatural movements. Viscous ooze seeped from his eyes and fingertips, quickly coating his body and his head twitched towards Charon. Unnaturally blackened and clawed arms reached down over the edge of the road towards the crew in tandem with a death rattle that only seemed to imbue him with unlife. The other ghost stayed its course, encroaching on the helpless female who seemed about ready to faint from shock. For their part, Warden Card watched this all unfold with rapt attention, though they either were unwilling to offer aid or were waiting to see how the Moonrakers fared on their own.

The crew has found what they were looking for; ghosts. And the ghosts seemed to have found them as well!

OOCKhunbish's Set Up: Anyone attempting to fill the first Bottled Spirits clock may benefit from Khunbish's Set Up action and take either improved Position or Effect on their Action Roll!

Score Clocks:
More bottled spirits equals more Coin in Moonraker pockets! 0/4
Bottled Spirits (0 completed) |
Khunbish has picked out a deserted neighborhood, free from Spirit Warden influence. At least for the time being... 0/6
Out of Sight

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Old May 20th, 2022, 10:17 AM
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Unlikely Knight in Shining Armor
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Naturally, all denizens of Duskovol had some level of exposure to the otherside — to its inhabitants, more notably — but many had learned to live around them, or were wealthy enough to avoid them altogether (further still, so wealthy that they had become a perverse form of entertainment).

Ken was one such individual whose lifestyle, however meager and subject to the exploitations of others, had been privileged enough to be relatively ghost-free. Until now. And to the hunk's credit, for such a violent first encounter, he was keeping it together pretty good...

"—ck me," Pawn scoffed, wide-eyed and sneering. "You guys are insane! This is what we're doing, huh? Whose idea was this again? I need to kick Beau's ass for talkin' me into this." At least the Moonrakers weren't always staring down spooks and specters. What was the Warden's excuse? An accusatory finger is pointed his way. "You freaks need to get your heads checked."

Despite second-guessing his affiliation with the motley crew, more pressing matters were at hand and Pawn was anything but a man of inaction. When it was that one poor soul had succumb to the whims of phantasmal violence, and another looked soon to join them, the muscle-bound goon leapt the distance between the shore and the boat in a display of great athleticism, then proceeded breakneck towards the sight of great horror.

He was too late to save the man. The woman, however, barely had time enough to faint before Pawn lurched forward, yanked her by the arm, and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The spirit glared down at him with unhinged malice.

Time to bail.

Bail, bail, bail, bail, bail...

"Someone get this —in' thing off me!"

Ken raced back towards the boat with the survivor in tow. Unfortunately, it seemed the extra weight slowed him down enough that the spirit was gaining on him at a steady clip, soon to be on a collision course.



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Last edited by Chylopan; May 27th, 2022 at 08:44 PM.
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Old May 24th, 2022, 12:11 AM
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Mister Fortune, Entering Silkshore
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"Much like the living tiptoeing through a crypt," the Whisper hushed under his breath as Charon passed between the other boats. "... trying to not wake those sleeping the sleep of the dead." A rather uncomforting thing to say. But as they came upon the Spirit Wardens - the only sign that Silkshore had become an afterlife war zone, since

Being stopped by the Wardens was no matter, really. Appearing exactly as he was, was the very best disguise. At least, that's what he told himself. "To lie in appearing exactly as one is? Or to lie to one's self that one is lying by appearing exactly as one is?" Somehow the circular logic was a comfort to him. If he was any more capable of making sense, he'd be at risk of appreciating how absurd it was to, well, pretend to work for Spirit Wardens in order to steal lethal ghosts right out from under them. Or from next to them, as it were now.

Pawn's jab at Warden Card would have been a welcome distraction in any other danger. Here, it seemed to fall on humorless ears. It only made the quiet thicker. Like the air was molasses. Slow and muddling.

But still, they'd come upon no spirits yet.

In the silence between far away screams of the dead and screams of the dying, and the occasional futile gunshot, Mister Fortune drew from his fur-lined longcoat his lightning hook. It was a thing of metal with cheap filigree and runes etched with some repeated, primal scratch marks. And when he unfolded it, he was careful to not make a single click or fwwsh, as if their unseen-everywhere-prey could hear the lightning hook. As if its every little ironworked rattle were a call to mock the spirits' own death rattles.

The spirits should have been everywhere. Where were they?

Was it humid that night? Sweat pooled along the middle-aged gentleman's brow. A single bead trickled down and fell from his face. With a gentle - intentional - grip, not unlike Damballa feeling her way with tentacles, Fortune gripped the lightning hook like a trident.



In their huddle...

Quote:
Originally Posted by Kink View Post
"Ahem, lads… a word please." he beckoned the rest of the crew below decks while Pawn attempted to engage the ”Phantom of the Opera” in chat. He whispered harshly at Khunbish and Fortune, his mood getting worse with every moment. "’e’s gonna ruin the score! We can’t have him aboard. This mamaluke’s gotta go. Overboard. With some lead around ‘is ankles." Kink stretched his neck to ensure Card was out of ear shot, "We’ll take ‘is mask… that’s right. And one of us’ll pose as ‘im. That’s right. Wear the mask. That’s the only way we’re gonna keep what spirits we find! Or afterward we say he fell overboard! There has to be a way to get rid of him so we can operate properly…"
"Indeed. Even further..." He mused on it out loud, but quiet. "Or plant the mask and attire upon a husk for them to find later, poised as if Card were making some sort of getaway. With shattered ghost bottles littered about. A betrayal. With their spirit drawn from their corpse, of course." It was a casual suggestion. Then he shifted and continued: "Or simply leave the false remains of all of us, Card included. Perhaps we were simply overcome by the spirits? Or another band of ne'er-do-wells came upon us and ransacked us for our bottles?" Fortune paced back and forth now, consumed by possibilities. "Or, either Viv or any rogue spirit simply compelled to do so, could pluck Card's mask from their face, and we could leverage knowledge of their likeness against them? Though, perhaps a riskier trick. It'd require some sort of diversion in any event..." It was clear that the resident Whisper was more interested in conjuring possibilities than helping to pick one, and would continue musing until another Scoundrel made a decision or drew them back above-deck.

OOCRPing only. Pre-Action Roll post.

 
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Old May 25th, 2022, 01:12 AM
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Fortune
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With ghosts spilling out into the terraced streets of Fogcrest, all the elegant man could do was... cuss. "Drite. A possession?" Mister Fortune looked down at his fine lightning hook. "Would our hooks even work on a host?"

Then again, a mancatcher was a mancatcher. With two hands, the magician spun the polearm above his head and forward like a flail. The wire loop at its end unfurled like a whip, wrapped around the spirit's torso, and fastened back into itself. Not any old traditional lightning hook. Fortune gave a pull, and the host lurched forward, then a push, and he lurched backward. But the spirit didn't leave the man's body. Just as he worried, the lightning hook had caught on the host.

Fortune sneered. "Meddlesome flesh! Get out of there!" His eyes flickered over to Ken, hauling away a... woman? With his clean-shaven face twisted in exertion, Mister Fortune charged forward, leapt from boat to cobblestone with his coat tails sailing behind him, and forced his hooked ghost-and-host backwards. The possessed man, whose eyes went white and who gnashed spittly teeth at Fortune, THUD-ed hard into the crumbling brick facade behind him.

"A siahi-do. Rather rare among the possessor spirit genus," Fortune called out, identifying his target without bothering to face the others. He kept the siahi-do pinned against the wall. That is, until it latched onto the lightning hook's long handle with its corporeal arms and spun Fortune off to the side. It took a moment for the Whisper to find his footing, having to dramatically tumble around in circles and smashing up a window shutter and a lamp post in the process, but eventually his worn-but-shined wellingtons found purchase with subtle clacks. He and the spirit faced off once again, the lightning hook still between them. And though the siahi-do continued to growl and hiss and drool, Mister Fortune... grinned. He reached into a breast pocket and revealed: a spirit bottle. He held it out to his flank, activated it, and in a flash of light, captured the other spirit that just happened to be within arms reach of the scuffle.

"And this one, a common shade. Funny that - OOF" With only one hand left on the lightning hook, the siahi-do yanked it from Fortune's grasp entirely, sending him sprawling. As he stood and turned, he began tracing circular, alien patterns in the air with his hands, leaving afterimages of his arms trailing behind them, until it became difficult to tell which were the originals. Facing off for a third time, the body-bound siahi-do and spectral-armed Whisper charged at one another and locked into a tussle. Only Fortune wasn't attempting to grapple the host. With two arms, he held back the host, sure, but with two spectral arms, he began to pull the spirit from the man's body. It stuck like molasses, but the more Fortune pulled, the less the spirit bade its stolen body to resist. The magician-scholar grunted through clenched teeth. More and more, he pulled the spirit free. And soon enough he had a shoe up against the man, prying the wailing siahi-do out with three arms. And when the spirit was finally ripped out, it landed not in one, but two piles. Fortune had ripped the thing in two?

"There. See?" He panted, casually approaching one of the piles as it writhed. "Siahi-do. Iruvian for inky doubles, or some variation. A rather uncommon dialect, as I understand its etymology. It is a pair of now-deceased so merged in life - often, in some fantastic trauma - lovers, or a parent and child - that they literally merge in death." He pulled from his coat another spirit bottle, knelt down, and drew one half of the siahi-do into it. All while catching his breath. Then he approached the other half of the siahi-do with a fresh spirit bottle. "Not a pleasant existence." Then he paused, musing. "Then again, it would have taken a comparably unpleasant existence over a long period of time to result in such a genesis. Or rather, it would be more of an omega than an alpha, chronologically speaking. Well, you know what I mean." Mister Fortune contained the last of the ghosts before them, retrieved his lightning hook, then returned to the Charon while dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief.

Then the magician looked to Pawn and his fainted bystander. Fortune frowned. "That is not a spirit."

OOCRolled a 6 on Attune to capture some ghosts. Assisted by Kink. Marked 3 ticks on the ghost catching timer. Made up some spirit types, including a two-in-one spirit to narrate 3 ticks from 2 spirits.

 
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  #11  
Old May 26th, 2022, 02:21 AM
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Kink
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Kink grinned cruelly in response to Fortune’s suggestion that they, ”…plant the mask and attire upon a husk for them to find later, poised as if Card were making some sort of getaway. With shattered ghost bottles littered about. A betrayal. With their spirit drawn from their corpse, of course." He nodded and said, "Alright, then!" with glee. He heard the whisper out, but was happy to bring his first idea to fruition. "…but we’ll ‘af ta pick our moment."

The two things Kink thought but didn’t say were perhaps more interesting. He’d decided he badly wanted the mask for himself; as a trophy… or perhaps a disguise… he wasn’t sure yet but it had quickly become a compulsion. He also thought that a better time would arise to do away with the spirit warden than right now. He had a feeling that Card might soon come in handy. And if he didn’t..? Nothing lost, nothing gained.

right-aligned image
Kink was watching Card like a glutton might watch a baked goat but was jarred away from that by a shout from the newest ‘raker.

"Someone get this —in' thing off me!"

Fortune was already on the move though, and Kink watched as the ghost overcome the man. The hound was momentarily overcome with a vision of his mother… not mother; she was gone… and the evil thing coming into her. His mouth fell slack, a marked change from the recent self-satisfied grin, and his pupils contracted to an even smaller point. He quickly gathered though and patted his bandolier with Cascabel’s “special” ammunition. It was time to test it, and these ghosts presented the perfect opportunity.

Kink loaded the flintlock rifle with gunpowder, inserted the well-crafted shell into the breach and braced against the Charon’s coach house. Fortune wouldn’t have seen it from his line of sight, but there was a third spirit bearing down on him and Pawn, and the hound would protect his crew. The rifle cracked and the glowing violet bullet sped from the barrel, collecting the spirit in the chest. Eldritch energy flared around the ghost, twisting and distorting its features as it fought and thrashed against this alchemical force. It was beaten and stunned; no threat to their team or the residents, and easy prey for Fortune and the other’s waiting spirit bottles.

The hound then leapt from the vessel, hoping that his new rovers were scoundrel enough to keep the vessel safe. He dashed across the open dockside and grasped a gutter, testing his weight before scrambling up to the top of the building. There he set his keen eye on the streets of Silkshore, and better sniping spots. He figured his best means of assisting his crew was to get the best oversight of the largest area, and disable as many spirits as possible with his rifle.


oocNormal Load

+1 stress for assisting Fortune

Hunt 2D
Khunbish Assist 1D
Risky/Great (Fine firearm)
Dice Kink Hunt action roll to catch ghosts:
3d6 5, 2, 1 Total = 8

2 Load for rifle
1 Load for electroplasmic ammunition
Statblock - Kink
 
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Old May 26th, 2022, 06:22 PM
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Eleventh Hour. 32nd of Kalivet, 847IE. Silkshore.
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About thirty minutes later...

The job seemed to be proceeding relatively smoothly thus far...

Warden Card was a complication, but one that they had time to ponder and deal with. Their newcomer, Pawn, had jumped right in with both feet by saving that poor woman, though she seemed too traumatized to be of much help. When he tried to question her about the particulars of the situation she could do little more than scream and babble incoherently. He was able to pick out a couple choice words before she raked at his face and ran off into the mists, however. Something about "spirits behind every wall"... also possibly "purple demon?" Not really what one would consider actionable intel.

With a few notable catches by Mister Fortune and Kink, the Moonrakers took stock of their hold. Considering the short amount of time they had been at this ghost-catching business they were doing quite well; their rovers had several stacks of crates lining the hold's back wall; each one secured and filled with precious, valuable spirit bottles. Charon had plenty of space for more, however, and as long as they had put themselves in this situation it would behoove them to grab as much loot as they could!

Kink, ever-the-sniper, found a liking in the rooftops of Duskwall. But this was Fogcrest; a neighborhood built on the vertical. So it was that the next sound that drew the Hound's attention came from still further above him, though the rest of the crew could hear it just as easily...

KKKKKKkkkkrrrrrrRRRROOOOOOHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....

left-aligned image
Best anyone could tell, it sounded like some unholy combination of a rockslide and a blazing inferno. It reverberated throughout the block with subsonic vibrations that lasted near twenty seconds and slithered through multiple frequencies. Lanterns clattered on hooks. Panes of glass vibrated in their frames. Pebbles shook loose from the cobblestones. Ribcages rattled almost painfully within chests. Searching the rowhousing above him, Kink spotted movement against the black sky. Something large, and it moved quickly. Or rather, it fell quickly! Before his sight could catch up the thing SLAMMED into one of the flats nearby; one level above him and across the street. It fell straight through the roof in an explosion of debris and dust, threatening to bring the entire building crumbling down into the waterway!

Several seconds of tense silence passed while the haze of destruction settled. Once it did the entire crew could see right into the apartment; it's front facing wall had been completely demolished, along with the door and attached balcony! Furniture and accoutrements of a home lay broken and strewn about, though luckily no bodies could be seen among the wreckage. The thing inside righted itself, and through its movements it was revealed to be vaguely humanoid in shape; two arms, two legs, roughly ten feet tall and half as wide. It appeared to be made of rock and crystalline shards. Purple shards... Amethyst! And where a head would be there was instead an open-faced geode of the same precious gemstone. This... Demon certainly fit the description... Or was it some kind of Husk, infused with souls? Or one of the many unknown nightmare creatures from beyond the lightning wall?thing... took two heavy steps to the edge of the shattered floorboards and turned its gaping geode towards Kink, then the rest of the Moonrakers below...

Was it looking at them?


Another bellow emanated from the entity, though shorter than the first it nonetheless conveyed rage and intent towards violence rather effectively... Before anyone could act Warden Card burst into a blur of motion! Leaping off of Charon, they zigged and zagged from street to stair to window ledge to rooftop, quickly reaching Kink's height and then surpassing. For someone with inarguably compromised vision and a large, billowing cloak their parkour skills bordered on the supernatural. Did Wardens acquire uncanny strength and speed upon admittance to their order, or did they simply recruit the best specimens of humanity that Duskwall had to offer? Probably both. Whenever they paused in their ascent a flash erupted from beneath their robes as daggers shot out like lightning bolts. Each one struck the monster and it reeled, clearly affected by Card's weaponry. Perhaps they were anointed in some form of electroplasm?

This creature will certainly hamper the Moonrakers' efforts to profit in Silkshore, it should probably be dealt with... But they're a savvy bunch, who's to say they can't multi-task?

OOCScore Clocks:
More bottled spirits equals more Coin in Moonraker pockets! 2/4
Bottled Spirits (1 completed) |
Khunbish has picked out a deserted neighborhood, free from Spirit Warden influence. At least for the time being... 3/6
Out of Sight |
This thing isn't going to just go away... and it looks dangerous! 0/6

Amethyst Entity

Kink's consequence has brought forth an Amethyst Entity (Tier II threat)! As long as the entity is threatening the Scoundrels, any Action Roll to bottle spirits will be locked into a Desperate Position due to the distraction. As long as Warden Card is considered an ally of the Moonrakers they will Assist any Action Roll to deal with the Amethyst Entity and add 1d! Since only one person may Assist any given Action Roll, no Scoundrels may Assist each other in this regard, though other forms of Teamwork are still an option!

Score Mechanics
 
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Last edited by MoldyNolds; May 26th, 2022 at 06:27 PM.
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  #13  
Old May 27th, 2022, 09:32 PM
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One Man Wrecking Crew
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The damsel Ken managed to rescue was no help at all. Honestly, that made more sense than anything that had happened thus far, all things considered. Watching a ghost murder-possess someone, then try and turn you into its next victim, was very likely not the type of thing that made one real gossipy (if you were coherent at all by that point. Or alive).

"What a crazy —," he sneered, disappointed but thankful to have made it back on the boat in one piece. "I'd get less babbling if I snatched a fish from the canal."

Kink and the magician, Fortune, made quick work of the ghosts. The gunman's methodology was very well understood by the hunky hooligan, but Fortune's whole now-I-am-one-with-the-spirits routine was, uh... for lack of a better word, nucking futs.

"—'s sake, pal. Maybe we should just cram your —ss in one of those jars and call it a day," he jeered, leaning over the edge of Charon to catch his breath, maybe fidget with a cigarette. "How many more of these we gotta wrang—"

And then came the crash-bang-boom. Destruction! Calamity. It was as though a dark, crystalline meteor fell from the heavens... and then stood up... and then wanted to kill them.

"I don't think this one's gonna fit in a bottle."

Now, keep in mind, Pawn was a man of action — thought... not necessarily. Action is about gut-instincts and not allowing hesitation or fear to steal control; it is the primal, alpha-sigma-omega drive latent in all men. It didn't mean that there weren't often times where his "action" may or may not have been a double-edged sword.

Like now for instance, whereupon the brawny youth saw fit to seize Charon's giant anchor and, after a few priming spins upon his dug-in heels, hurl the pointed piece of wrought iron towards the crystal demon in an effort most Herculean — and inadvertently detaching it from the boat entirely, but, y'know, small details 'n such.

He hit the rock monster with a —in' anchor. It's a testament to his might, not a rocket science. Sue him.



OOCHit the scary big thing with a pointy big thing. Now up to 4 stress.


Load Designation Light


 

Last edited by Chylopan; May 27th, 2022 at 09:35 PM.
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  #14  
Old May 28th, 2022, 12:28 AM
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Fortune
Quote:
Originally Posted by Pawn View Post
"—'s sake, pal. Maybe we should just cram your —ss in one of those jars and call it a day," he jeered, leaning over the edge of Charon to catch his breath, maybe fidget with a cigarette.
"Nonsense," Fortune shifted his frown from the younger man's non-spirit to his smoke. "Corporeal flesh cannot be compacted by a spirit bottle's aether-modulators."

Quote:
Originally Posted by Pawn View Post
"How many more of these we gotta wrang—"

And then came the crash-bang-boom.
left-aligned image
The sound didn't really register to Fortune. His mind just skipped a beat, then a blast of air and dust from behind him. He winced visibly - ungraciously - as his coat tails tussled forward. When he turned around to look across the channel, craning his neck upwards, it was as if the very challenge of their circumstances loomed over him. Over them all.

So when both Warden Card and Pawn ran towards danger, unexpectedly armed and armed unexpectedly, respectively, Mister Fortune merely... backpedaled a step. Absently. The faintest clack of wellingtons somehow rung out louder than all the fray ahead. As if signaling the only way through this fight: away. And that's when the newcomer, Pawn, threw the anchor of the Charon at the thing.

What?!

"... no, Viv, I don't believe this is a fight for us at all."

Once Fortune collected himself, he stepped back onto the Charon and straight to those other newcomers, tending the ship. "Be ready to move," he said flatly. "If that thing bests our men, we musn't lose the ship too." The Whisper turned to peer back at the battle above them. Only, it wasn't the gem-monster that he was watching, grim with a restrained sneer.

OOCJust another RP-only post, since I skipped of the first part of the Score. Smashing things is not Fortune's jam.

 
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Old May 29th, 2022, 03:06 AM
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Khunbish
In the Huddle (just RP)
 

sing it everyone--we don't need another hero
 

"Someone get this —in' thing off me!"

Fortunately, Fortune was up to that task. The young Iruvian had moved to assist the older man but didn’t accomplish much. He started walking back to the boat when Kink drew a bead on another spirit with his rifle…and didn’t see yet another one approaching from the other direction. Hefting his cheap excuse for a spirit hook, Assist to KinkKB rushed at the ghost, yelling. The spirit made the mistake of focusing on the leech, who maneuvered it into position for Mr. Fortune to make the capture. Kink’s hit with electroplasmic ammo made that ethereal prey an easy capture as well. The bottles were starting to fill up.
OOCAssist to Kink, took one stress, currently at 4 stress.

Amethyst EntityMore unexpected consequences from blowing up the warehouse, perhaps? Watching the powerful way Card moved and attacked what was obviously a demon didn’t make KB more confident in their crew’s plan to off their keeper. On the other hand if it kills him, our life gets simpler. Or will it then chase us? The young man paled. It showed up here, in the whole of Silkshore! What would our crew do to attract it that whispers and Wardens haven’t been doing all over this part of town before we got here? Was it summoned by Marlista!? Then letting it take down Card here and now… Pale and shaking, the former scholar searched his mind for a way to help Card hurt or drive off the demon, but this wasn’t a threat that a leech’s bag of tricks would help.

Bag of tricks…

Stazia the apothecary had hooked him up with a contact in Nightmarket that had come through with high quality nitric acid, shipped up from the industrial zone of the Imperial City. Assuming that really is amethyst, and I wrap the vial in… The leech ran to the stairs leading to the fight, opened his tools bag, and started improvising.

"I don't think this one's gonna fit in a bottle." "The man is as witty as he is strong," muttered Khunbish. He heard sounds like Charon’s anchor being handled, but paid it no mind, focused on his own absurd plan. Even the sound of the anchor’s chain getting ripped out and off of the ship, followed by the snound of smashed crystals, didn’t slow him down.

And it was ready. Well, ready-ish. Trying not to think about what he was doing, KB went up the stairs with the bomb. The creature opened its mouth(?) to express displeasure and the young man threw his hastily created piece of spark-craft.
Two more stress, for a total of 6.
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