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  #46  
Old Jun 22nd, 2021, 08:34 AM
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Beau
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Trembling with the horror of seeing Petunia's underside up close, Beau stares ahead quietly for several moments after Rocco puts her back on her paws. Then, looking up, she nods her snout at the goblin, whiskers still trembling but gratitude in her eyes. 'Thank you,' she stammers, realizing Rocco can't understand her words, but hoping he will get their meaning.

As she watches Petunia flopping after Brie, Beau hears cries from inside- Ernest had been uncovered! Her pink eyes wide, she turns to Rico's rats. 'Quick- inside, while the hound is away!' she blurts out, receiving only baffled stares in response. 'We have to distract the humans, so Ernest can collect- nevermind,' she sighs, the uncaring eyes of Rico's little helpers boring into her, withering her resolve. Instead, she scurries over the door, glancing back one last time before entering the dreaded human abode.

'Come on!' she squeaks at the rats, one last time. 'Or sh-shoud we tell Rico his rats stood by while a- a girl did all the work?' Then she entered, Quick: 12dashing about the kitchen, daring the humans to come after her while Ernest did his work.

'Look at me, I'm a health code violation!' she squeaked, hoping those weren't her last words before a human's foot crushed her to a pulp.


 
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  #47  
Old Jun 24th, 2021, 02:47 PM
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Brie
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The wisest in the great rodent communities chanted it continuously like a mantra, trying to conceive its deeper meaning. The rat elders, those who were close to death, searched their memories for an answer to this eternal question. The rat mothers whispered it to their young in their cradles made of nutshells and the discarded skin of fruit, hoping that they would guide them towards the right path.

What is a rat?, they asked, only to answer: A rat is a rat is a rat.

Brie had never been especially interested in philosophy. That had always been the domain of Alexa, who, true to the stereotype, had done everything in her power to prove to the rest of the Familiars that she was indeed wise.

"Who? Who?", she had repeatedly asked, even when the question didn’t seem to make sense. The dark rat had simply ignored her, or even made fun of her, caring mainly to fill his belly and enjoy Mother‘s presence and gentle touch, leaving such questions for those who had no sense for what was truly important in life.

But in this time of mortal danger, running from certain death and caught as he was between Scylla -literally a she-dog!- and Charybdis -the pair of humans didn’t seem able to swallow a puddle much less the ocean, but still...- Brie suddenly realized what the „riddle of rat“ was all about.

When stripped of all its many accomplishments and the trappings of its great race, the cunning and the stealth, the ferocious teeth and the majesty of its straight whiskers and proud tail, a rat showed its truest nature. Beyond the hunger and beyond the peeping and the squeaking a rat was made for one thing: running.

Running!

Run, Brie! Run!, he silently called to himself, though truth be told, no encouragement other than the hound’s closing infernal breath seemed to be necessary.

Like the wind he ran, darting from one dark corner to another, jumping over a discarded shoe and masterfully avoiding a large empty wine bottle, until he seemed to be heading blindly towards the duo of giant-like humans, who looked at him with malice, ready to crush him underneath their heels.

Blindly? Not at all. The rat had his reasons.

With Quick check 12!great skill and agility Brie passed underneath the open legs of the first human, turned sharply to the left, swiftly avoided the second human‘s stomping boot and waited for it to happen.

One, two, three, four, f…

Clumsy Petunia, still chasing the rat, rammed the first human, who, in order to keep himself from falling, grabbed his companion by the arm only to make him lose his balance too. Before long all three of them lay on the dirt, entangled in a way that at first defied recognition, cursing, howling and barking in a most chaotic and amusing way.

Alexa would have called them a „group“, much like a sculpture consisting of many figures, but Brie had a better word in mind: a „mess“.

Sneering like only a rat could, Brie backtracked his steps and returned to his friends. This rat was indeed true to his nature. A rat is a rat is a rat.


OOC actions Brie outmaneuvers the hound and the humans. Quick check:12!


 
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  #48  
Old Jul 6th, 2021, 11:22 PM
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You can get anything you want at Gygax’s restaurant

GMWensley lets out a little snort. “Heh! What, you think you’re gonna goad us into following you inside that death-trap?” he shouts after Beau, but she’s already passed through the open door, into the shadowy kitchen. “It’s over, Beautiful! That mutt will be back any second, and this whole place will be crawling with humans!” He cups his paws around his snout and screeches at the empty doorway, “Hey! Hey, you really think we’re that dumb, huh?! No way we’re going in there!” He turns back to face his wiserats and demands, “Right, fellas?” The rodents all shuffle their paws and cast sheepish glances around the alley, avoiding Wensley’s gaze. Dale steps forward, tapping the claws of his forepaws together nervously. “But...but...what if word does get back to Mister Rattin, though?” The Wiserats all nod their vigorous agreement. “Seriously?!” Wensley squeaks, betrayed. He groans angrily and waves the Not-So-Goodfellas toward the entrance. “Fine then, you greasy mooks, get in there!” Moving as one, the rodents all scrabble inside after Beau.

Inside Chez Gygax, the kitchen is dark and still. Ernest is nowhere to be found among the pots, pans, and racks of glittering chef’s tools. Based on the shouts of outrage coming from the next chamber, it seems the old tom has made his way into the dining room, and attracted the attention of some concerned humans on the street outside. Beau scampers toward the commotion, followed by Rattin’s crew. And there, atop one of the dining tables, butt planted firmly on a gleaming white plate, is Ernest. Outside, the crowd of humans has grown considerably, and the swelling commotion is attracting more and more agitated onlookers by the second. A human man, lean and grim-looking, shoves his way to the front of the crowd. The animals don’t know what institution of authority the man represents (Village guard? Priest? Health inspector?), but they can tell by the man’s flamboyant hat and air of flinty self-assuredness that he’s an individual of some importance among the humans. More importantly, he has a ring of keys that he’s fussing with, glancing up to glare at Ernest through the window after each flip, Clink-clink-clink!

Outside, Brie sprints down the alley, back toward the restaurant. He dares a glance over his shoulder - the humans and hound are still a tangled mess on the street. “Get offa me, ya damn dog!” roars one of the men, hauling Petunia up by the collar. “Gods, what a stink!” shouts the other, swatting the air in a vain attempt to dispel the hound’s rank miasma. In another moment the men will be back on their feet in trampling, murderous pursuit. But a moment is all Brie needs - his daring acrobatics have bought him precious seconds, and he streaks down the alley, running faster than he’s ever run before. He reaches the door, vaults the threshold in a single bound, and scoots inside Chez Gygax to join the others. Brie flies into the dining room, a panting black blur. He weaves between chair legs and darts through the assembly of wiserats before skidding to a stop near Beau, just in time to see Ernest claim their prize. On the table, Ernest’s paw hovers over a spoon of finest silver, twitching with anticipation, poised to knock the utensil to the floor. It’s a scene the animals witnessed countless times in the Witch’s cottage, so familiar that they can almost hear the voice of their late mistress, rich with playful mirth: “No, Ernest! Naughty kitty! No-no-no!”

Just then, in the same instant that Ernest’s paw touches the spoon, the lock on the front door snaps open, Click! The man in the jaunty chapeau shoulders open the entrance with a bang. “Hey!” he bellows, jabbing a trembling finger at the Familiars. “Git, you! Go on! Git, you beasts!”

GM - OOC/MechanicsSo long as there are humans (or dogs) in the restaurant with you, every move is considered DANGEROUS.

Don’t forget your Blessings of the Witch where applicable.

The Not-So-Goodfellas will hold in place until directed by a Familiar. The rules for controlling the wiserats can be found here.
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  #49  
Old Jul 10th, 2021, 09:46 AM
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Ernest the Cat
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The man's clinking of keys and clamoring into the establish felt like more of a bother than a worry to Ernest, who had found himself in similar situations more times than he could count.

He had discovered in his For a cat, at leastlong life, that humans do not enjoy it when a familiar's paws touch their things for eating. However, this had never stopped him from doing so...

The old Bombay had always had a fondness for the freshest of drinking water. When possible, he preferred to hydrate from glasses of the chilliest refreshment, fresh from a spell of cooling from the witch. The drinks were meant for her or her *human* guests to consume, but that did not stop him. On more than one occasion someone had set down a glass, only to turn back and realize there Ernest was, velveteen muzzle eyes deep, lick, lick, licking away. Scat, you! Be gone! They would swat. He would jump down. And the whole cycle would continue once more when the glass was replaced.

Occasionally the witch would trick Ernest unintentionally by leaving out a stale glass on the bedside table overnight. She had a terrible habit (at least in his mind) of taking water to sleep with her but never taking a sip. He always thought it a strange ritual of comfort, but he did not question the mistress' ways. He simply used his tidy/clean/mend spell...the magic she taught him in the morning to dispose of the unused water and wash the cup. He looked at this ritual as the witch giving him purpose, but truly, she was trying to get him to clean his own messes. Each time a potted plant or stack of papers toppled, Ernest would tidy up after himself.

But on the days his initial sniff, to test the freshness of the bedside water, misled him... he would drink. He then showed his displeasure after the first foul sip by placing a single paw into the glass and sending it rolling onto the floor, a puddle of undrinkable water spreading from it rapidly. "Ernest! No no, my love! No! Come here you bad kitty!" she'd always say. But the way the witch met him with a swift scoop up from the table and a scratch behind the ears, led the cat to believe he was receiving affirmation that he'd done the right thing in alerting her to the terrible taste of the water available to him. So he kept at it daily.


Now, in the restaurant, Ernest stood frozen with his paw held above the spoon, waiting to send it flying in a similar way. With the Not So Goodfellas en route to his aid, the old cat looked the fastly approaching man square in the eye, and batted the spoon to the ground. He lept down to it, attempting to pick it up, but his old jaw failed him and it fell to the floor once again.

"Come on, you rodents! HELP ME."



 


 
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  #50  
Old Jul 10th, 2021, 10:50 AM
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Beau
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Keep running, Beau thought as she sped into the dining room. They can't stomp on you if you just keep running.

For a moment, her heart leapt at the sight of Ernest claiming the spoon- then it fell again, as the human made its way through the door. She looked back to the Not-So-Goodfellas, seeing them stumble inside after her. Ernest was already giving them orders- good, she thought. If they could get their treasure out of here, then they would be one step closer to bringing back Abigail. All she needed to do was occupy the humans long enough for her friends- and Rico's pests- to succeed.

'Here I am, here I am!' she squeaked as she ran forward, trying to get the human's attention. Then she veerred left, hoping the humans had seen her- and that they had forgotten about the cat. Humans didn't care as much about cats running loose as they did about rats, did they?

'Please ignore the cat!' she called out, though she knew the humans wouldn't understand her. 'Aren't you much more interested in the white rat? Think how nice I would look underneath your boots!' she tried, her growing sense of dread creeping into her taunts. Quick still 12!Quickly she darted to the safety of cloth-covered tables- drawing attention was one thing, but she dared not stand still long enough for the humans to actually take her up on it!


 
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  #51  
Old Jul 13th, 2021, 08:18 AM
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Brie
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Bold, brash and beautiful Beau had taken things into her sweet little pinkish paws and was leading the humans in a merry chase like only a rat could. Ernest, following the example of the great feline general Nap-o‘-lion Bowl-an‘-pat, was directing the Not-So-Goodfellas like disciplined soldiers in picking up and carrying the silver spoon that had already caused them so much trouble. Brie could almost hear the old cat barking out orders:

"Raaaaaats, Atten-tion! Eyes Front! Pick up Spoon! For Inspection, Port Spoon! Very good, rats. Diiiiismissed!"

And Brie? What was he supposed to be doing to help? He had gotten rid of the mutt of hell, but it was bound to return and then…

Then…

Brie suddenly knew exactly what he had to do. He had to find a way for all of them to escape this blasted trap and vanish in the darkness of the sewers. There had to be some way that would lead them to the labyrinthine passages underneath Whitewall. The tricky part was finding it. Well, tricky for a human maybe, not for a rat. Brie started sniffing the air, trying to ignore the scent of herbs, vegetables, meat and dairy products -oooooh, did he smell Pont-l‘Évêque? Yes, yes!- in an Clever (?) check: 5attempt to detect the less than savory smell of sewage and things too foul to even think about.

OOC actions Brie tries to find a quick way back to the sewers. Clever check: 5


 
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  #52  
Old Jul 23rd, 2021, 12:08 AM
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And I know you don’t owe me / But I wish you’d let me / Ask one favor from you

GMThe man in the hat stares in disbelief, his jaw hanging open, accusatory finger trembling in the air. He stammers wordlessly as his gaze darts from the table to the rats assembled below and back again. Ernest locks eyes with the man, sneers in defiance, and bats the spoon of finest silver to the ground with a clatter. The sound shatters whatever delicate spell is holding the humans in breathless abeyance. “After them!” the man in the hat bellows finally, as the other humans shove him forward into the dining room. A stamping, jeering crush of humans barges into the restaurant, a wave of trampling boots cascading around their dumbfounded leader. Ernest leaps to the floor to collect the spoon, but the cursed utensil proves too heavy for his old jaws—it slips from his teeth and falls once more to the dining room floor. It’s time for Rattin’s Not-So-Goodfellas to prove their worth. At Ernest’s desperate command, the rats swarm the spoon and carry it off, a solid mass of writhing black fur and lashing pink tails.

Meanwhile, the human whirlwind advances, toppling chairs and sending dishware flying. It’s only thanks to Beau’s heroic display of agility that Ernest and the Wiserats are spared the mob’s savage fury. The white rat sprints and prances, gamboling between chair-legs before darting under the curtain of a tablecloth. The daredevil gambit works a treat—a hail of boots all slam uselessly on the floorboards, rattling what few place-settings remain undisturbed. The humans thrash and growl, hurling their gibberish curses at the little rat, but each time they spot the streak of her brilliant coat zipping between tables, she’s already well out of harm’s reach. Thankfully, that’s all the distraction the Familiars need. After a few moments’ rollicking, Beau sees that the Not-So-Goodfellas have claimed the spoon and are on the move.

Ever the rogue, Brie searches for an escape route. The black rat’s whiskers twitch frantically, his sensitive nose questing for the fusty stink that will lead the Familiars back to the safety of the sewer. He dashes in circles hunting for a drain, a crack in the flooring—any small avenue that the animals can use to evade their pursuers and make a hasty exit. But something is wrong. The sewer’s stench—such an unmistakable and aromatic beacon—eludes Brie. Why can’t he smell it? The answer comes in the terrible, wrinkled, slavering form of a hound dog, panting in the kitchen doorway. Petunia! The dog’s horrible funk overpowers all other odors, masking completely the smell of the Familiar’s subterranean sanctuary. The damned mutt has found him! Flanked by the two humans from the street, Petunia blocks the way from the kitchen to the alley. There she stands: a lumpy, obstinate wall of growling flab.

GM - OOC Brie has been unable to locate an alternate exit. So far as the Familiars know, the only sure way back to the sewer is through the storm drain in the alley. The door from the kitchen to the alley is blocked by Petunia and two humans. The door from the dining room to the street is blocked by a mob of humans.

Take heart: the Familiars still have options. They can attempt to push through either blocked exit. They can continue to search for alternate exits (drains, windows, etc). They can use their magic, or call upon the Wiserats again. No idea is a bad idea, if it works.
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  #53  
Old Jul 29th, 2021, 08:53 AM
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Brie
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Most humans were foolish animals. They thought they possessed a heightened sense of smell when they were unable to detect the mold upon a slice of bread or distinguish between a ripe and unripe tomato alone through its aroma. It was as if a mole would claim to possess the eyes of an eagle - laughable. Rats on the other hand were true experts in perceiving, analyzing and categorizing the invisible world of odors that surrounded them. Brie, being a fine specimen of his species, was particularly skilled at this task - under normal circumstances at least. The chaos inside the „Chez Gygax“, however, was as far away from normal as it got. Brie could have ignored the small army of Wiserats carrying the spoon, Ernest’s acrobatics, Beau‘s daring exploits -she was so beautiful as she darted between the legs of tables and stools!- and even the trampling feet of the ungainly humans, but Petunia‘s stench was another thing entirely. Within moments the mutt‘s nauseating smell covered everything, leaving Brie practically odor-blind.

The dark rat was of a mind to chew off his own snout and may very well have done so, had it been at all anatomically possible. Unable to find a way out of this mess, Brie decided to resort to the mystical and mysterious power Mother had taught him: magick! It was true that his last attempt had been rather unsuccessful, but since fighting and fleeing were not valid options here, he decided to risk everything and hope for the best.

The real question was what would distract the humans long enough to allow the Familiars and their allies to escape. Brie didn’t have to think all that long for the answer was rather obvious. There was only one group of animals that humans hated more than rats: cockroaches!

Closing his eyes Brie formed the image of a cockroach in his mind then multiplied it by two, again and again and again and again… Soon not even his great imagination could contain this veritable swarm of cockroaches, at which point he just let them free.

Now, it is important to remember that Brie was no entomologist and for him one bug looked pretty much like another. Rats in general have a rather poor understanding of the incredible variety of insect life and, what is worse, a lack of interest in expanding this area of knowledge. As he cast the spell, Brie had a very vague idea of what a cockroach looked like. He knew it was an insect with six legs and wings, but apart from that… Thus, he decided to replace what he didn’t know with what he did. Mother was especially fond of ladybugs so the rat had a pretty good image of a ladybug in his head. Besides, if he couldn’t tell the difference between a ladybug and a cockroach, he was certain that the humans wouldn’t as well.

When Brie opened his eyes it was a swarm of ladybugs, not cockroaches, that appeared out of nowhere and moved menacingly -if the word can be used for creatures as sweet and innocent as ladybugs- towards Petunia and the pair of humans. Would it Sly check 7be enough?


OOC actions Brie casts a spell conjuring a swarm of „cockroaches“ (ladybugs). Sly check: 7


 
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  #54  
Old Aug 1st, 2021, 11:48 AM
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Beau
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Reaching the kitchen, Beau's little heart nearly faltered as she saw what awaited the familiars at the door. The terrifying wall of flesh known as Petunia was bad enough... But with two humans flanking them, their way of escape was cut off! And if they couldn't get out... How could they help Abigail? The little white rat trembled at the thought- not for her own safety, but for fear of failing Abigail... Again.

Beau hadn't done anything when the bad men had come. She had stood by and watched, paralyzed by fear as the witch hunters beat her, tied her up, and set fire to her body. She had watched Abigail scream in pain and terror... And she had done nothing.

Now, again she found herself paralyzed by fear. Fear of the dog, fear of the men, of being trapped inside the restaurant and failing again. And she couldn't bear it. She couldn't stand by again.

A cloud of ladybugs appeared out of nowhere, surprising the white rat. The sight of the creatures brought her back to the garden, which she and Abigail had so loved. When Beau had first taken up her duties as the gardener, she had despised the little insects. Pretty as they were, they ate the plants she had so carefully grown. But Abigail had laughed that warm, disarming laugh of hers, explaining that the beautiful red bugs were only looking for a meal... And if Beau could provide, who was she to deny the insects? It had been a lesson in kindness- the first of many Abigail had taught her.

Beau owed Abigail much... But in her moment of greatest need, the rat had stood by, cowardly and afraid. Well, she refused to do so now. She had never really believed in the plan- never really believed that the magic would bring Abigail back. It seemed like too much of a fairy-tale, for a world where kind women were burned at the stake by evil men. But Beau believed in penance. And perhaps, this was hers. If she could occupy the restaurant's guards long enough for the others to make their escape... That would be worth the price. That, perhaps, would redeem her.

Turning to Brie, she looked at her fellow rat sadly. 'Run,' she said. 'Flee. Don't stop, don't look back. For Abigail.'

Fierce: 2 (below Danger...)Then, squeaking at the top of her lungs, she charged directly for the men and Petunia, fangs bared, pink eyes fixed on her enemies, to whatever fate awaited...

And if she failed, then perhaps she would see Abigail again.


 
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Old Aug 2nd, 2021, 09:39 PM
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Ernest the Cat doing more cat things
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As the humans burst into the restaurant everything became too much for the old cat to follow. There was an eruption of noise and movement and light and his instincts set in before he could think twice. COVER. MUST FIND COVER.

Ernest scurried into a corner, making his round and sleek frame as small as possible. But then... the one thing a kitty can never ignore... BUGS!

His eyes darted side to side, following their tiny red shells as the ladybugs made their way across the kitchen floor towards Petunia. He could help but stick out a paw and swat at them. Pat. Pat pat! The pads of his right paw met the wood and he followed them along, transfixed by their jittery movements.

He was stopped mid-pounce by Beau, who ran past him towards Petunia. The rat's fury and speed cut his steps short and she yelled as she passed "Don't look back. For Abigail!"

Ernest looked to his nemesis, the thief of half his sight, the stinking wretch that was Petunia, and then to Brie. They could lose one of the group, or potentially all if he tried to stop her. Ernest nodded at Beau briefly, in that split moment where their eyes met, and ran towards Brie, who would surely run after his fellow familiar if left to his own will.

The cat made his way to the male rat and tried to comfort him. "I'm sorry my lad, but we must go! You heard her, for Abigail!" Ernest attempted to mouth Brie gently by the scruff of his neck, but fumbled and he falls to the ground. "Come on wee Brie, we must go! Now!"


 


 
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  #56  
Old Aug 8th, 2021, 11:26 PM
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GMTurning to Brie, Beau looks at her fellow rat sadly. “Run,” she says. “Flee. Don't stop, don't look back. For Abigail.”

Before Brie can move to stop her, Beau whirls and leaps toward the back door, bounding once, twice, then breaking into a sprint toward Petunia and her guardsmen. The little rat bursts through the swarm of ladybugs, a streak of purest white scattering a starburst of glittering crimson and onyx. She closes half the distance in a matter of heartbeats. Petunia’s lips peel back to reveal her chipped, yellow teeth. Beau can feel the rumbling of the hound’s low growl reverberating through the floorboards each time one of her tiny paws touches ground, but still she charges forward. Petunia opens wide her stinking maw and barks, a bloodthirsty salvo that showers Beau in rancid spittle. One of the men in the doorway—the taller of the pair—shouts an order, barely audible over the dog’s cruel baying. The rat lowers her head, denies every animal impulse to turn and flee, and forces her unwilling body forward. Drawing energy from some deep and fatalistic well, Beau redoubles her pace, barreling heedlessly toward the demon-mongrel, certain that she will be snapped up whole. The tall man screams again, then cuffs his companion savagely. No matter; the white rat is upon them now. The hound and humans tower before her like murderous mountains, colossal and inevitable. Beau is buffeted by the fetid wave of Petunia’s hot breath as she makes her final leap into the toothy void that yawns open, swallowing the entire field of her vision.

The barking stops, and for a moment Chez Gygax falls silent. The world wheels and lurches. Beau’s stomach drops, and the little rat nearly swoons with vertigo. The ground falls away beneath her as she is borne skyward on an open palm. When she opens her eyes, Beau is nose-to-nose with the smaller human - not a man after all, but a youth, with only the first downy patches of a beard gracing his sallow features. The boy holds Beau gently, cupped in his quavering hand like something precious and insubstantial, a snowflake that might melt or else be carried away on the wind. The larger man grunts a command, and the boy flinches. Beau can feel the boy’s pulse hammering, hot under the skin of his palm. The man strikes the boy again, shouts. Morning light streams through the kitchen door at their backs, and the boy’s face glows the white of Beau’s alabaster fur. Tears course down his cheeks. The boy clamps his eyes shut, draws his mouth into an anguished grimace, and slowly closes his trembling fingers around the little rat. Only Beau’s tail and the tip of her pink nose are visible. The boy hesitates, and the taller man strikes him a third time, a vicious slap that resounds in the hush. The boy squeezes. Beau’s nostrils flare, her tail whips senselessly in the open air. The boy’s knuckles go pale and his fist convulses with violent exertion. There is a wet crunch, and Beau’s tail suddenly falls limp against the boy’s wrist. He gasps, sobs, and drops the rat to the ground. Beau, who seemed to the Familiars a creature conjured of pure light, lands with a thud, impossibly heavy and utterly still.

The breathless quiet is broken as Petunia resumes her hateful barking. She scrabbles forward several steps, her black nails cutting deep gouges in the soft wood floor as she advances. The taller man grabs the boy by his collar and shoves him forward, gesticulating wildly at the Familiars with his free hand. Behind them, in the dining room, the animals can hear renewed shouting and the trampling of boots growing louder by the second. Sitting upright to see over the backs of his Not-So-Goodfellas, Wensley looks to Ernest, then Brie. His whiskers are sticking out straight and his eyes are round with terror. “What do we do?!”

GM - OOCAt this point, the dining room is so packed with humans that an escape out the front door will be nearly impossible. Beau’s heroics, however, will constitute sufficient distraction to significantly reduce the DC of any escape attempt out the kitchen door into the alley. Plus, the ladybugs are still in play, which will also help.

Note that the Not-So-Goodfellas can still be utilized for other tasks, even while carrying the spoon.

And finally, don’t despair: DemonSlayer will be rejoining us shortly. More on that soon.
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  #57  
Old Aug 11th, 2021, 02:43 PM
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Goodbye, sweet Beau! You will be missed…
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Time stopped for Brie as snow started falling inside the „Chez Gygax“. Everything that was good and pure in this world, in any world, had coalesced into a single snowflake, perfect in every way. For a moment the snowflake shone brighter than the sun, brave, strong, beautiful, but also fragile… so very fragile. Its fragility was part of its incredible beauty, it defined its strength, it gave meaning to its bravery. But it could not last. Such light was not meant for this cruel, dark world. It was a piece of heaven, possibly the last piece of heaven on earth. It would not be permitted to last.

Two small clouds covered the snowflake, hiding it from the black rat‘s eyes, blocking its light, and then it started raining. It was a strange rain, as salty as the ocean and as warm as water coming from a hot stream. It was full of pain and shame and guilt, each raindrop a silent cry for forgiveness.

The clouds parted soon, revealing the snowflake once again, braver, stronger and more beautiful than ever, but also cold… so very cold. The snowflake started falling, its light diminishing, a star sacrificing itself to bring hope to a world of suffering and injustice. The fall lasted only a single heartbeat, it lasted a whole lifetime, but in the end the snowflake hit the ground and burst, spreading cold and light everywhere, keeping nothing for itself.

Brie was dazzled by the light, more brilliant than anything he had seen before, and was touched by the cold, which froze his heart and numbed his limbs. He could not feel, could not act, could not think. He did not hear Wensley asking in desperation and panic about what to do next. He did not resist Ernest’s attempts to pick him up by the scruff of his neck. He was as immobile as a piece of ice, frozen in time, shock and heartbreak, bidding his beautiful snowflake farewell.

Farewell, my sweet Beau. I shall never forget you and your light. May you rest in Mother’s arms forever.


OOC actionsI cannot imagine Brie acting in any way after witnessing Beau‘s passing. I guess it‘s up to Ernest to save the day. Good luck!


 
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  #58  
Old Aug 14th, 2021, 10:15 AM
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Ernest the Cat
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It was not often that a cat expressed sadness. Fear, a near constant, but sadness? Nearly never.

As Beau's body hit the ground with the awful and deafening thud, Ernest's ears dropped, his tail went limp, and he sunk backwards into his hind legs. He thought momentarily of attacking the human who so ruthlessly took yet another loved one away from him. His claws had not met flesh in a long, long time. Perhaps this was the moment for them to return?

No. Wee Brie needed him. The lad was frozen with heartbreak and he is unable to bring himself to move forward, either in mind or body. Ernest needed to retrieve him before the humans repeatedly their ruthless show.

"Rats! Attack! Swarm the humans!" He made to dash towards Brie and paused briefly, redirecting a few of the Not So Goodfellas, "... and that damn dog! Wensley, Dale, grab the spoon and RUN!"

Once again, the old cat picked up Brie by the scruff of his neck, gently. He did not mean to harm Brie, only to usher him to safety. However, even with the rat's body entirely limp with despair, the cat's jaw rolled a 3. oofonce again gives out and he drops Brie to the floor. He tries another 3. geeeeeze!again, and fails again. Now, his jaw aching and trembling, Ernest begins to panic, and nervously nudges Brie out the door, and onto the steps of the back entrance.

He runs into the alley, calling back to Brie while vanishing into the shadows. "Brie lad! You must flee! Run! For Beau, save yourself and run!"



 


 
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Last edited by NightCheese; Aug 14th, 2021 at 10:15 AM.
  #59  
Old Aug 18th, 2021, 11:10 PM
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GM"Rats! Attack! Swarm the humans! And that damn dog! Wensley, Dale, grab the spoon and RUN!"

At Ernest’s command the Not-So-Goodfellas spring into action. “You heard the cat!” Wensley shrieks. “Charge!” He lets out a warlike cry and bolts for the door. Moving as one writhing, black mass, the rest of the wiserats follow, each rodent adding his voice to the shrill chorus. Confounded, the humans recoil at the sight of the impending swarm, cursing and stamping their feet. All is chaos. Brie, unmoving, watches the scene unfold through the gauzy veil of his grief. He sees two of the wiserats disappear under heavy boots, hears the snapping of their bones. He sees Petunia, the dread canine whirlwind, snatch up another in her slavering jaws and swallow it whole. The black rat doesn’t move a whisker - his heartbreak is a burden that concedes no defiance.

Somehow, impossibly, Wensley, Dale, and the remaining Not-So-Goodfellas break through the riotous blockade. Daylight pours through an opening in the tangle of stomping feet and gnashing teeth. Escape! Ernest tries to gather up the comatose Brie in his jaws one, twice, but fails. Panic-stricken, the old tom begins shoving the black rat forward with his head, pushing him roughly toward the door. Brie topples over the threshold, rolls down a pair of steps, and sprawls over the alley cobbles. Still he does not move.

Ernest bounds after his apoplectic companion, but not quickly enough. There is an explosion of white-hot pain in his side where a steel-clad toe meets his ribs. The kick sends Ernest sailing out the door, end-over-end. He lands on his paws, but the injury is excruciating, and his legs buckle. He can feel the bones of his ribs floating loose, just under the skin. He flops to his belly, fighting back unconsciousness. Eyes wide and rolling with terror, Ernest frantically scans the alley. There! He spots movement in the shadows. The goblin, Rocco, is crouched near the opposite wall, his bindle laid open on the ground. The cat can see dark, gleaming eyes inside, and the glittering of the silver spoon. Rocco waves urgently, beckoning. The Bombay rises with an agonized yowl, cries for Brie to follow, and stumbles toward the goblin. Rocco ushers him inside the sack, where he settles among the wiserats. Humans are pouring out of the restaurant now, pushing and shoving their way into the alley. Ernest calls out to his rodent companion, but if Brie hears he makes no indication. Ernest moves to double back, but Rocco catches him by the scruff, crams him into the bag, and cinches it shut.

Even after the bindle is sealed and everything goes dark, Ernest can still see the horrifying tableau, indelibly stamped onto the surface of his mind’s eye: Brie, motionless on the cold ground, the humans encircling him, boots and cudgels poised to fall, with Petunia at the fore, her jaws a bloody grin.

Ernest can hear shouting and bitter, malevolent laughter. The human clamor swells. Then there is a terrible scream, followed immediately by an ear-splitting avian screech. Ernest feels the world lurch and buck, and then suddenly he is in motion, bouncing violently. Rocco has shouldered the sack and is sprinting away from the uproar.

They have abandoned Brie.

GM - OOCPlease allow DemonSlayer to post next before resuming our customary free-for-all.
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Last edited by Mallothi; Aug 19th, 2021 at 08:31 AM.
  #60  
Old Aug 19th, 2021, 01:30 PM
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Zorandicus
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A shadow descended upon the crowd, swooping down towards the assorted humans, hounds and rats like a wrathful angel. A talon struck out, cutting a jagged wound across a bald head. A beak pecked at a nearby ear, elliciting another yelp of pain from the terrified masses below. This was how it should be- the joy of the hunt, the cries of pain and terror reinforcing the natural hierarchy between predator and prey. The pitiful, landbound creatures wailing in the muck, as their winged overlords made known their presence and all scattered before them.

There was one among the landbound, however, who seemed to be a cut above the rest. Well, two, actually, but one appeared to have fled into a sack of some sort, carried by what appeared to be some ugly sort of... Clay homunculus? Nevertheless, the predator's eyes focused on his intended target as he made his final descent. Plummeting down upon the unsuspecting, apparently catatonic black rat, the crowd could but gasp and wail in awe, as white wings carried the rodent away from the cares of the world, and into the great blue sky above.

Brie found himself carried aloft in powerful talons, yet soon discovered the long, black claws had mercifully only wrapped around his body, rather than pierce the flesh. He was then unceremoniously dumped on a nearby rooftop and, before he had a chance to flee, the celestial being which had carried him away landed not three feet before him. Majestic wings of purest white spread wide, Brie found himself confronted not by an angel, but by something akin- a proud, towering owl, its talons digging into the roof's red shingles. Flapping its wings, the owl caused a gust of wind to wash over Brie, flattening his fur even as the avian predator scrutinized him.

'Fear not,' the owl's loud, silvery voice rang out. 'For today, I have no intention of making you my meal, rodenty one. It is a different hunger I would ask you to quell- a thirst for knowledge.' He lifted his beak at the alley beyond, his eyes momentarily leaving in the black rat to stare in that direction. 'Something conjured by magic was birthed there,' he spoke. 'A creature, not flesh and bone like you or I, but... Pulpy, somehow? Almost vegetable?' He shook his head, dismissing his line of thought. 'As you were there, and I sense within you some spark of the arcane, I would ask you to share with me what you witnessed.'

Taking a step back, the owl stood up a little higher. 'But, where are my manners? You stand this day in the presence of Zorandicus Winterwing, previously of the academy of wizardry, presently lord of the skies above this squalid town. With whom do I have the pleasure of conversing this day?'



 
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