((Character sheet and setting info after the break))
Logan awoke, bound to the ground, hearing a series of memories played out on monitors around the room, and confusingly, smells from across his lifetime.
“Where, at forty, I attributed my looks to my mother, and my liver to my father,” Logan paused for the tepid laughter, “At sixty, I am forced to admit there were other forces at play.”
1992, when he’d come out as a mutant. Not as Dark Claw, just a billionaire who’d inherited even more luck than most people. He tried to play it off as though his power was just his health. As with all mutants then, he was banned from blood and tissue donations, making it easier to stave off his aging rivals from pestering him on a day to day basis. It made occasional extra work for Dark Claw, however.
Sentinels crashing down onto New Gotham streets, assaulting Wayne Tower and the Thompkins School for Mutant Education and Outreach. Shots of the Friends of Humanity storming DC.
93, he noted as he tested his bindings. They’d snap, but not soon.
Talia, wailing as he shot down Ra’s al-Pocalypse with a rocket launcher.
“Ninety-five,” he said, methodically pulling and relaxing, “What do you need to prove?”
The Joker laughing at a shrieking pitch, almost as if to cover up Sparrow’s screams.
“Bastards,” he growled. His head should have cleared, but there was something else buried into the scents they vented into the room. He blinked. How were they even witness to that?
Seeing Jubilee dying again started up the adrenaline, though. He cursed and spat, trying to slip out the way he knew he had to. Before the next parts.
Jean da Costa, the Dark Phoenix, caught off guard and killed by Erik Magnus via magnetokinetic stroke.
Logan saw red. Killing mad. There was grief in his scream. The mystery behind the Ravens might give way to the immediate need to end them, a quiet but resolute voice tried saying over the din in his mind.
The obituary of Thomas and Elizabeth Wayne, interspersed with grainy footage of the three of them, together.
One of the leg binds snapped as he did, and one of the odd, synthetic looking ropes had stretched just enough for a hand to slip free, allowing his left hand to cut away his remaining binds. flipping to his feet, still shouting. And then the lights went out.
They knew he tracked by scent, which was still confusing due to the manufactured nostalgia in the air, but they did not consider how well he heard. It was a good posture, to always sniff whenever he noticed something out of sight, in case someone was watching.
They were quiet, but not enough. He slashed out with his right hand, raking two someones across their torsos, while feeling blades sink into his left forearm, which had risen to block the assailants he knew were on that side. He growled and plunged his free claws into someone’s face.
Death cries at least drowned out the sounds of his past on the walls. There was enough light from the panels that he noted more arriving, which suited him well. He needed to get something out before he could work properly.
The Malevolence of Ravens was resourceful, even these assassins knew more of what they were doing than the typical street goon. Archival footage of most of this was plentiful. But how the hell were they there for the Joker?
He was losing blood faster than he liked, meaning if he didn’t speed this up, he’d be captured again, or worse. A lot of self defense worked differently with knife hands, but that just made forearm strikes less predictable than a punch or and elbow. It really only worked because of the adamantium, most peoples forearms would have fractured doing what he did, but it made openings for smaller jabs and sideways swipes with extended claws.
The last one stood well into the gloom of televised history. He was not afraid, but based on their rote fighting form, he was not prepared either. The assassin went for an overhead knife strike, which Dark Claw caught in between two blades and twisted sideways, so as to spare his knuckles some grief, and he drove his right fist into the man’s gut. The adamantium claws slid in effortlessly.
“How’s that work for ya, bub?” Dark Claw drew in close.
No response except a gasp and a gurgle behind a black bird mask. They could have been plague-doctor themed if the beaks were longer. Dark Claw dropped him and strode out of the room. Violence sated, for now. Just had to find the bigwig.
********************
The Amalgam Universe
Back in the day, Marvel and DC used to do cross promotion in Versus titles, and a couple of years, the Amalgam Universe, a big ole cross-company mishmash of heroes and villains and plots. The one character they co-owned was Axel Asher, whose power was to traverse between the two multiverses, and across timelines as well. He also had the power to smoosh heroes together, which tended to happen on accident if he stayed on one or the other side too long.
He, however, was not the only character who knew what was going on. Dr Strangefate, the amalgamation of Dr Strange, Dr Fate, and Charles Xavier, knew much too well what was happening, and was Axel’s main antagonist. See, the conflict was, Axel’s job was to keep the multiverses separate, and Dr Strangefate, being a product of the merged multiverse, wanted them to stay so he could live, alongside all of his loved ones native to the Amalgam Universe.
It didn’t stick, and they never collaborated like this again.
THIS Amalgam Universe
So in at least one instance the Amalgam Universe survived in smaller forms, waiting to reborn. Mostly, Strangefate rebuilt it for a return in 1997, but he is depicted as dying at the end of it all.
With the multiverses constantly expanding and contracting, there is always space for something weird. Even if it’s a pocket dimension, Axel Asher is swanning about in both properties and it could, fictionally speaking, always happen again, so right now, it is!
But it’s not the same one. Some of Access’ (that’s Axel’s superhero name) amalgamations were incredibly different depending on who was around, so my version of the Amalgam Universe has different stuff according to taste. Maybe it’s a cast off from the Queen of Nevers.
Dark Claw
Starting with Logan Wayne! I owned the two Dark Claw comics as a kid, because Batman and Wolverine were my favorites, and the Dark Claw Adventures looked like the Timmverse.
Logan Wayne was born in 1932, and orphaned at 8 years old after seeing the Gray Ghost. He would live in his parents’ estate until he was 18, attending New Gotham University. He’d go on to spend his summers travelling, and eventually, did so full time after graduating.
The 50s were a good time to learn how to drop off the grid. Besides postwar Europe, the Pacific saw continued conflicts in Korea and Vietnam. Japan was his last official known location from 1954 until 1970.
A man matching Logan’s description was found wandering in British Columbia. He wouldn’t claim his name or his birthright until 1973 after regaining enough of his fractured memories to give anyone his social security number.
Wayne Enterprises did not take this resurrection well. While the family’s estates had been held by the family butler, Edwin Pennyworth, the company fought any ownership claims or attempts at involvement for the next several years. It was during this time he had, back in New Gotham, full of skills and instincts he couldn’t quite place the origins of, that he took on the mantle of Dark Claw.
Street crime was at a fever pitch, and organized criminals ran rampant. With only a base of operations, a set of mutant powers, and an adamantium clad skeleton he still couldn’t account for, he set about clearing out New Gotham’s underworld.
The year after toppling the Silvermane regime, Logan Wayne finally accrued enough stock for control over Wayne Enterprises, rooting out the men that kept him locked out of his family’s company and installing a new board of directors. 1978 was looking up for Logan Wayne. And then the Joker appeared.
The Joker (an amalgam of the original, Sabretooth, and Whiteface) introduced to both mutant and costumed villainy. A series of gruesome killings, victims all stuck in a rictus grin, led Logan on a trail that ended with the Joker’s debut-- a plot to kill everyone in New Gotham with the Whiteface Poison.
The Joker in this case is a little more clowny than the green backhaired Hyena. In this case, to represent the Sabretooth side, he’s got a healing factor, Sabretooth’s claws, keen senses (though played less animal than Logan or Creed would, more comedic), and a green fur trimmed coat instead. To add a little Whiteface (he’s from Supreme and is basically just an homage to Mr J), add the little red painted on dimples and vertical eyelines to the Joker’s normal face.
The Joker would become a consistent foe for decades to come, similarly living longer than he ought to and surviving things like adamantium claws.
The 80′s took Logan to Japan, where he would fight the League of Assassins for the first time, and have a romance or two. The 90′s, coming with an influx of mutants that society could no longer ignore, had him come out as a mutant too, in order to immediately establish the Leslie Kafka Institute for Mutant Education and Outreach, drawing an immediate line in the sand against the reactionary Friends of Humanity and other paramilitary orgs that preyed on mutantkind.
It was also a time that brought him his first sidekick, Jubilee, codename Sparrow. She would assist him for several years until the Joker killed her Jason Todd style. Logan tried to murder him then, though at that point, he hadn’t figured out how to kill anyone with a healing factor.
The standing rule from then on was “no sidekicks; no one else dies,” which would last from 1999 to 2010.
The year of this fluff is 2005, and Logan was puzzled and annoyed at the idea that any organization could have been ruling New Gotham they way the Court of Ravens claimed to without his knowing. It plays out mostly like Court of Owls, with added exposition for my setting’s benefit, and Wolverine style violence mixed in.
2009 brought the Near Apocalypse, perpetrated by Ra’s al-Pocalypse, risen again. Ra’s’ reasoning was that humans needed to end en masse, giving way to the true stewards of the planet, mutantkind. Logan heartily disagreed, as did an assortment of other heroes, and that’s why it became the Near Apocalypse.
2010 brought the second Sparrow in the form of Kitty Grayson, a phasing metamutant that had lost her family in a circus accident. She convinced a grudging Logan to take her on, the reasoning being that her phasing ability made her effectively untouchable, unkidnappable, and that he wouldn’t be able to stop her from visiting the Claw Cave anyway.
Ra’s’ back up plan came to light as well. The lead agent of the League of Assassins, Talon, came into her own. Initially mute, save for growling, Cassandra Kinney came at Dark Claw with everything she had, “everything” being an exact duplication of his powers and adamantium claws. She proved too resourceful for Dark Claw alone, but as mentioned, he was not alone. Sparrow provided him backup, and Logan ended up offering Talon help in the form of extensive therapy from Leslie Kafka and a spot in the Dark Claw Family.
Jubilee hadn’t stayed dead. She rose again on a full moon in 2000, becoming the independent hero Moonwing, and moving to Bludhaven to strike out on her own.
There’s a lot more, and an entire decade to explore for just a few characters since, but this is already long
The Marvel Universe RPG
The MURPG is a diceless system from 2003. It uses an energy resource pool and is entirely effort based, which I think is super cool!
One of the biggest problems is the “death spiral.” Your effort is diminished when you take damage, which sounds like a good idea until you realize that epic comic book style fights don’t tend to peak at the first punch and go entirely downhill from there. There are two ways around this that sound reasonable enough--
Second Wind
Taking one turn in which your character does not spend any energy (red stones), that character gets double energy regeneration the following turn.
I like this one because it can represent down time, like if you get beat up and the villain is monologuing. How often has a hero been hoisted by their shirt, blood on their lips, only to smirk and point out exactly what the villain has missed? I think even with energy regen tied to Durability, accruing additional energy while you’re beat up and climbing to a standing position (for instance) is very thematic.
Energy Independence
A lot of homebrew fixes just divorce red stone regen from health altogether, which works to form a more “whole-hearted” combat experience. This feels more like what you’d be playing like in other tabletop rpgs, where you can take plenty of damage and still swing for the fences.
In either case, it’s not called “the death spiral” because it was a walk in the park. Using any method to make player characters more survivable and feel like superheroes is encouraged, but don’t neglect a sense of danger.
"Check again," Essow frowned, "Onomiri Pathfinder, we have a Commonwealth marque."
"Ma'am, that's not the problem," the docking personnel responded, "I'm saying due to the unrest, you have to go back to the surface."
"Understood," she snapped the holo off. "Mhi, tell the others to strap in, and get to your post."
"Essow, really?" the Mon Calamari's face fell.
"Yeah, really!" the human buckled in, "They're Force-hunters, I don't care if the Commonwealth is still standing at the end of the day, these GUF bastards are coming to get us and I'll fly through hell before I let them walk up and take me!"
Mhi jogged through the corridors down to the common area. The Jedi was speaking to the Mirialan girl, who just stared in shock. Considering their story, Mhi didn't blame her. Force-users never lacked for unimaginable excitement, and if they really had beaten down the GUF at a zoo, well, that'd be one for the HoloNet.
"Sorry to interrupt, but we're gonna be um, flying fast," she explained, "You can stay here or in your bunks, but in either case, please buckle in."
"Essow's classic diplomacy," the Kaminoan smirked.
"Yeah, her's and mine, unfortunately," Mhi grumbled, "If you see droids rolling around, don't worry, they're just doing their jobs."
"Wait, are we breaking out of port?" the purple girl paled.
"Oh sweetie, keep your plausible deniability intact!" Mhi said as she jogged away.
She climbed down into the quad lasers, an add on that become iconic when a certain YT 1300 somehow survived everything that was thrown at it. That model had become a notorious high demand item, though no one managed the same kind of fame since.
Essow Brak made her fortunes on a 2400 that she'd hired Mhi Sombelwabb to refurbish. On a good day, .5 past lightspeed, just like that damn 1300. Quad lasers, just like That One, except bigger and less legal. The tear-down and rebuild was entirely based on concepts from the Falcon's-- turn a freighter into a fighter, and make sure she can run like hell when she needs to. The twelve and a half tons of hidden cargo space even helped them break even recently.
Mhi stayed on. A refit needed constant maintainence, and she managed to extend Essow's debt by being her gunner too. But it wasn't the money that kept her here. It was making sure her life's work made its mark on the galaxy.
The Onomiri lurched up, and Mhi dropped the quad lasers down, firing wildly until Essow had gotten out of the hangar. The scale and speed made trying to hit the point-defense systems inside pointless, but once they saw atmosphere, things got easier.
Her ship was fast, but it was still freighter shaped and heavy.
"Essow, what are the chances we have a chace as opposed to a blockade?" she yelled up.
"Not good, eyes ahead, Mhi!"
They may have had a Jedi onboard, but the most miraculous uses of the Force Mhi had ever seen was watching Essow Brak pilot, and watching her work with this finely tuned relic was magic all its own. Making it agile enough to meet her capabilities was the true challenge of her job, but it was worth it. She just also needed a gunner.
It was still a minute or so until they'd hit a wall of ships, but Mhi watched anxiously.
"Please don't trash my ship, Essow!"
All she heard in response was a laugh.
They were going on an attack run of a corvette. Always the suicide angle. Mhi knew where to fire to cause concern for their shields, getting through the larger vessel's deflectors just enough to add carbon scoring and potentially confusing their crew.
Their shields were solid, only taking real hits from the larger vessels, while the starfighters danced around them helplessly. It's when the droid repair team took action that she opened the comm to the cockpit.
"Essow, it's time!" Mhi panicked.
"Oh come on, we've got another couple runs left!" Essow laughed, snap-rolling the Onomiri Pathfinder out of harm's way.
"You'd better be right!"
They did another attack run, but a solid barrage rocked the ship, causing eveything to blink out for a moment.
"BRAK!" Mhi shouted as they continued their forward momentum.
"On it!"
Essow peeled off, and before the hyperspace engines could respond, they were at the edge of the system. Mhi breathed a sigh of relief and climbed out of the gunner’s seat.
“What did you do?” the mirialan girl looked liked she might have been ill.
“Just the job,” Mhi offered.
“We moved through hyperspace without engines,” the kaminoan looked intrigued, “I knew your pilot used the Force, but this is new to me.”
“To them, it looks like we just shot off without astrogate calculations,” Mhi explained, not trying to stop them from following, “Which is helpful because now, our actual hyperspace route will be a very complicated question.”
“I wasn’t talking about the Force,” the girl sounded upset, “I mean, why did you just fire on Commonwealth ships if the Commonwealth isn’t actually going under?”
“Oh, it is, kid,” Essow stood to meet them rushing the cockpit, “Give it a few months. If your local law enforcement isn’t quelling an insurrection, it means they tacitly improve, We’re looking at another Empire and it won’t help if we’re just sitting here.”
“You don’t know that,” the girl said, “Things might just go back to normal.”
“Ayoma, I’m gonna say two things to you,” the middle-aged human help up two digits, “Thing the first; it’s always satisfying to show off. And secondly, possibly the most obnoxious thing anyone’s ever said to me, ‘search your feelings’.”
She placed her hand on Ayoma’s shoulder to punctuate her second point. Ayoma’s face did that thing that near-human faces do when they get overly stressed, making Mhi reach for the astrogation pad. Of course Essow hadn’t started yet.
“Where were we headed?” she asked the others.
“Ord Pardron,” Ilah replied.
“Uhhhhhhhh, do you know the way?”
“Take the Corellian Run down to Savareen, we’ll be taking the Triellus Trade Route up a ways, and hopefully someone out there can be a little more specific,” the Jedi explained, “There’s an old Rebel ‘safe world’ out there, which, if it’s not openly anti United Front, will hopefully be neutral enough to convalesce at.”
“Well as long as someone knows where we can go after this, I’m fine,” Essow turned back to the pilot’s seat, “Maybe we’ll get some smuggling work in the Outer Rim.”
“Just keep us flying, Brak,” Mhi feigned annoyance.
“Right back at ya, Sombelwabb.”
**********
The Onomiri Pathfinder
A labor of love turned into a tolerably illegal venture, the Onomiri is a Refitted and extensively modified YT-2400. Essow Brak and Mhi Sombelwabb have made their mark as the eponymous shipping solution team, Brak & Sombelwabb. In the Inner Rim, their goals are speed over bulk, and occasionally take passengers who need that point-five destination time. When they feel the need to pad their nest egg, or acquire materials necessary to keep their delicate hyperdrive in tune, they trek out further for more discreet shipping ventures.
They hold a privateer-like charter (in effect, bounty hunting credentials) that has been used utilized on more than one occasion to hunt rival smugglers, which also turns a hefty profit when business is slow.
YT 2400 mod Refitted template (just costs more and is harder to repair)
STR 42
DEX 22
INT 20
SPEED 5
HP 144
DR 15
ARMOR +15
EXTANT SYSTEMS
Hyperdrive x.75 (increased to x.5 by Starship Designer) and X8 (backup)
Sublight Drive 5
Combat Thruster
Jamming Array
Shields, SR 55
Navicomputer, Advanced
Regenerating Shields
Quad Advanced Heavy Laser Cannon 5d10x2
Slave Circuits Basic
Sensor Array Computer (+6)
Maneuvering Jets (+4)
Hidden Cargo Hold 25%
Droid Repair Team
Added Power Couplings (+3)
Reinforced Bulkheads 20%
Luxury Upgrade Basic -1
Kkrur'orr'rut patted his brow, letting the mask absorb the relentless sweat. It had been a few years of effort, but the new well was almost done. All it needed was a little help from the same machines that made the settlers all too selfish.
It was an impossible spot with no guarantee of survivable amounts of water, let alone his oath to make it a new well for the clans. But since his expulsion, he had done many more things unthinkable by his former clan members.
Gr'Rherc walked down the stairs, and with a smile, he knew that sometimes, the strictures of his people needed to be shed. She, like he, wore the typical masks of their people, but hers had so much pearl in it, they named her after it. All in time with the banishment. But even behind it, she was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he’d ever know.
“Urror'orurs is here, looking for you,” she sounded concerned.
“Did he say what he wanted?” Kkrur'orr'rut sighed.
“Gafsa,” came the entire reply.
Kkrur'orr'rut was silent, but he set down his tools and marched up to the ground floor.
The clan elder sat stiffly upon his bantha, head of about sixteen others. Less than there should have been. Kkrur'orr'rut barked at them.
“Have you come to curse me further?” he asked, knowing it was not the case.
“Quell your pride, demon,” Urror'orurs snapped back, “We come at the behest of the northern and westerly tribes, not out of spite.”
“Speak, then.”
The others bristled, but there was something wrong. They seemed weary or exhausted. Kkrur'orr'rut feared the worst.
“As the pearl witch has no doubt told you,” Urror'orurs insulted, “The settlers have destroyed Gafsa.”
Kkrur'orr'rut reeled. One moment, he was sure he was going to end the old man, and now, all he heard was war.
“Why tell me?” he asked, trying to get his bearings.
“We call on you and all of your insanities to fall upon them.”
Kkrur'orr'rut had to stop from laughing.
“You left us to die, withered and alone,” his tone betrayed incredulity, “You buried my claims and my lineage. Why would I help now? Why should I?”
“The northern clan K'Gomgan is prepared to accept any of your potential sires in,” Urror'orurs said softly, “Have you any children?”
“No.”
“Then consider it vengeance,“ Urror'orurs said, “For now, half of our people will not survive this loss.”
“Do as I do,” Kkrur'orr'rut began to turn away, “Trade with the ones that steal. Or kill them and take what they stole. I care not that your rigidness dooms you.”
“Have you truly forsaken so much of yourself that you would enjoy watching us die?”
Kkrur'orr'rut unfolded his massive arms, letting them fall as he balled his fists.
“I will ride out alone,” he growled, “If you would partake in the retribution, I will not stop you.”
“How far will you ride?”
“To Outtown,” Kkrur'orr'rut barked, “The settlers have a new outpost in the style of the Red Times, I will begin there, and continue in until I or they fall.”
Cheers erupted. Some of them seemed surprised to do so. He just wanted them gone.
“You may yet prove yourself, demon.” Urror'orurs nodded. Kkrur'orr'rut turned and entered into his unnatural home.
Gr'Rherc laid upon the fainting couch, as they came to call it. When the heat or malaise would set upon them, they would go and lie down in the daylight hours. She had removed her mask, and her beauty overwhelmed him yet again, despite the tears on her face.
“You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone,” she said, more tears streaming as she spoke.
“Perhaps I won’t,” he began removing the wraps that held his own mask in place.
**********
“Is that... just one?”
Ark Kran couldn’t believe what he was seeing through the macrobinoculars. One bantha, one Tusken Raider, just charging up in the distancing.
“Yeah, I think so,” the lieutenant said, watching just as curiously through his own.
“What should we do, LT?” Ark turned for orders.
Lieutenant Meyru set his scopes down and pulled out a comm-link.
“Snipers, we have a single Tusken Raider coming in, 100 credits to whoever makes the shot,” he said amused.
The GUF snipers all chattered back in the affirmative, and the command staff just watched from their balcony. All the shots went wide. Not even in range, who are they kidding? Meyru shook his head.
And then there were shots he couldn’t even see landing. He began to lose his patience.
“Snipers, what are you doing?”
No response. Tusken Raider barks in the distance.
“Snipers? Respond,” Meyru went a little pale.
The siege on Outtown, or Anchorhead as the settlers called it, lasted six hours. Kkrur'orr'rut had lost his voice two hours in, but his heavy repeating blaster still poured out everything he had to say. The generator backpack seemed to be holding up, it was just a matter of the weapon itself overheating, which had become more common as he moved down the streets of the settlement.
All of the western and northern clans had shown on the promise of the Demon’s vengeance. And he delivered. Some still talk of the way he was run down by an airspeeder and only rose up angrier. By the end, he was scorched, bloodied, and nearly dead, but he still walked. A few of the younger warriors rode up, their horror at his mangled form marching somewhat subdued by the biggest victory they’d see until a greater dragon was felled.
“Demon, the fight is over!” one said. He sounded fresh into adulthood.
Kkrur'orr'rut shook his head, but set his gun down anyway. He needed his hands to talk.
“Claim their water,” he signed out.
“Their water tastes of rust,” they seemed disgusted.
“If you cannot claim water, then all is lost.” Kkrur'orr'rut’s signing was angry, “Gafsa will take too long to rebuild and sanctify. Give your people life.”
“We will ask the elders,” the lead youth replied dismissively.
They rode off, leaving Kkrur'orr'rut to bleed in peace. He collapsed against a wall, finally taking stock of what had happened to him.
Perhaps they will accept my well, he breathed heavily, and my child.
****************
Kkrur'orr'rut
A tusken raider thought mad and disowned by his clans, he is perhaps their most bloodthirsty warrior in centuries. After dedicating himself to the use and repair of a heavy repeating blaster and its power generator, he slayed a minor krayt dragon single-handedly. The last straw to his love of taboos was keeping all but one of eight krayt dragon pearls, to which the answer was to expel him from his clan.
He didn’t go alone. Gr'Rherc, his mate, left with him adorned in so much dragon pearl that they cursed her and her pride too. But neither of them cared.
Kkrur'orr'rut’s project ever since was to create a well for the tusken raiders to use in case of emergency, with the vaporator discreetly hidden in a cavern below his settler-style in ground house. With the humidity of the basement outclassing that of the open atmosphere, it would be more than enough for him and his wife, with excess being stored in a separate chamber in a not-entirely-fake well.
In the few years he’d been forced to live like a settler, he barely had time to install anything, with small, solo raids on the more obscure criminal elements trying to hide in their desert castles. They kept him supplied enough that trading was less necessary, though he didn’t lack in material wealth.
.“This is Seven-Aurek-Six to city patrols, we need backup at the Ekrine Zoo immediately!” Ayoma shouted into the comm link. Despite not having actually authority, they still gave the rangers a through-line to real law enforcement, along with an official call-sign. The convolutions of their employment were ultimately public sector.
“Seven-Aurek-Six, you are on official channels,” dispatch droned in reply.
“Affirmative, GUF sighted, armed and headed my way now, request backup!” she panicked.
She’d already called the zoo personnel, some of whom had armed themselves with the weapons intended for reek break outs. But not her human co-workers. The realization had made her nauseas. Two of them were rangers too.
“Ayoma, they’re calling back at my desk, civilian lines,” Tharun Ex, the Besalisk zoo director yelled over to her, “Did you already use the LE comm?”
“Yes!” she replied in exasperation, “Please tell them it’s for real and I’m not just some idiot playing a joke in a crisis!”
“I have been!”
Ayoma didn’t know the words for the sizes of army detachments, but there were at least a hundred humans outside, half armored and some with gauche pre-packaged propagandist holobanners. Some had been firing wildly into the air already.
“Get everyone inside, active shooter drill-style, but like, this time, do fight back as they come in!” she called down to Tharun, “This is gonna be bad either way but we’re gonna lose harder if we meet them on this!”
She ran towards the employee entrance landing in case the imperialists had been looking for a convenient place to get in, hoping for law enforcement in a what-if-i-won-the-lottery kind of way, when she saw something impossible-- that tall woman from earlier in the day (Ayoma was working doubles because of all this nonsense), back watching the Toorgas, almost exactly where she met her.
“Ma’am?! Uh, *whatwasyourname,* Ilah?!” she called out to her, jogging up.
The Kaminoan woman turned and gave her that same smile, like starlight, the kind that made her stomach feel funny in ways that weren’t related to imminent insurrection, and she just waved.
“Ilah this is the absolute worst time to visit the zoo, we closed, the GUF is outside, uhhh,” Ayoma ran a hand through her own hair, working out the best place to just hide, “I think maybe if we got you to the sublevels, you’d be safe, I’m so sorry.”
“I am not worried, Ayoma,” she said just as warm and calm, sending a wash of relief over the Mirialan that Ayoma knew was out of place given the situation.
“But you need to be, that’s the problem,” Ayoma was so tempted to take Ilah’s three-fingered hands and pull her away from the loping toorgas, “There’s armed and marching GUF outside and they’re staring right at the z--”
An airspeeder crashed into the toorga exhibit, but given the space the animals needed, they managed not to hit anyone, toorgas included. Ayoma drew her blaster and set her stance to aim-- it was not as close as she was used to firing, but she was hesitant to get closer.
Three humans clambered out of the now-wrecked airspeeder, each with blasters of their own, and checked themselves while Ayoma fired.
It was not protocol. Blasters were for the dangerous animals, not people. And she hadn’t given them warning, but they had rifles and GUF armor. They weren’t here to see the baby reek.
Only one was even looking around, the other two were still checking the ship when she fired, but she got them square in the chest plate. He wasn’t down, but he looked hurt, and decidedly shocked. Thank you, she prayed silently. By the time the other two began returning fire, a peculiar thing happened.
Ilah pulled out a blue lightsaber and began parrying away their fire, even when it was aimed at Ayoma specifically.
“We should move in,” she said over the din, manipulating the laser sword with preternatural grace. Ayoma was beginning to swoon, literally.
“We should retreat!” Ayoma managed to answer, her head swimming. How was a Jedi here, in her zoo, saving her life? “There’s more at the entrance level who will get in!”
“All the more reason to take care of the situation here.”
The blaster fire swept around her as Ilah took off-- Ayoma thought the Jedi was flying, but didn’t think too long as she went for cover finally. She peeked up in order to get the shot, but one GUF goon was now without a rifle, and the others were trying to back away from a whole Jedi swinging at them. But there was something conspicuous in the way Ilah wasn’t murdering them. Now that they were distracted, Ayoma snuck around to get into a decent pistol range.
Over the hum of that legendary weapon, the ranger heard Ilah... talking them down? That can’t be right! Ayoma sat confused.
“Your enterprise is doomed to fail,” blaster fire, parry, repeat, ”Rather than be here, taking over the very obviously crucial target of a city zoo, you could be at home with your families,” rifle clatter, “There is a worthier cause in peace than profit,” now, just the sound of the saber.
“You’re right,” one of the humans said through a cheap helmet, “I don’t know why we’re here.”
“Miss Ayoma, is there an emergency exit nearby by which they might egress?” Ilah inquired in those same exact beach-shore tones, soft waves of sense and sensibility in every word.
“Yeah, I gotta unlock it,” Ayoma stood, “It uh... Was secured earlier, for, ya know...”
Ayoma waved her pistol around helplessly at the would-be soldiers. Ilah chuckled, causing Ayoma’s purple skin to deepen. She went over to the emergency lift for their level, manually unlocked it, and let the imperialists... just go. But the clicks of it relocking and a deep breath made her feel better.
“Ilah, why are you here?” she turned back to the seemingly ever peaceful woman.
“I had to.” she shrugged, then folded her arms.
“What does that mean?”
“I sensed something about you.”
“What does that mean?!”
“Come, I fear the next part will be far less pleasant,” Ilah began walking into the zoo while Ayoma stood agape. The ranger had almost forgotten her comm-link.
“Seven-Aurek-Six to zoo broadcast,” she said through a fog of shock, “Reinforcements are here.”
****************
Ilah Pei
A true once-in-an-era occurrence, this Kaminoan Jedi has taken up the path of a Consular, feeling as though the Jedi had many warriors and far fewer diplomats as in ages past. Removed from the center of galactic politics has relegated her to small, informal goodwill missions rather than proper politics. She has shown great aptitude as a peacemaker in more than one instance where even last measure violence would have created intractable situations for generations to come, such as the Arkanian Situation in 119 ABY.
Ilah is one of the few extant Jedi who essentially grew up as one. As atypical as it is, she was foreseen by the Jedi who would become her own master, and was subsequently adopted when the question of what to do with a Force-sensitive Kaminoan came up.
She was given as much education on her own people as was feasibly obtained and could be taught by an offworlder. She is thus a bit more personable than your typical Kaminoan, rather less servile and instead driven to the cause of peace.
That did not stop her from mastering Ataru, but that’s another story.
Ilah Pei
Kaminoan Jedi 7/ Jedi Knight 7
Str 10
Dex 15
Con 12
Int 14
Wis 16
Cha 18
Feats
1 Weapon Finesse
2b Rapid Strike
3 Force Training
4b Skill Focus UTF
6 Force Training
6b Assured attack
9 Follow Through
12 Force Training
Force Powers 12
Rebuke
Hawkbat Swoop
Saber Swarm
Disarming Slash
Sarlacc Sweep
Surge
Move Object
Mind Trick x3
Farseeing
Force Thrust
Force Techniques
Force Point Recovery
Improved Mind Trick
Improved Move Light Object
A group of humans made their way conspicuously through the club, and Nima could tell they were GUF without even looking. The feeling in their wake soured. When she did spin to face them, maintaining her routine, she spotted exactly what she expected in the dullness of their gray plasteel armor and red gleaming highlights. But it wasn't the full battle kit. A night off, perhaps.
Humans and near humans always picked twi'lek dancers. It was a cringeworthy truth, but one they could always capitalize on. The lead human nodded her way after his compatriots had already picked out their dancers, and she sauntered over.
Vook could be spotted stalking up through the crowd as the troopers had seated themselves in a dark corner. Not everyone knew that talz were actually pretty sweet, but at 2 meters tall, most people assume you're a tough guy. It's why he got to carry a blaster inside-- less likely to get pissed off and kill someone than your average bouncer. Nima liked him. If she'd had plans to stay, she might have made a real friend. But something about this meeting felt ominous.
The others got their drinks and groped her co-workers. No complaints raised. It would have made her frown if she weren't also playing the part.
"Haven't seen you on the holos," the human said, slouching back into the booth.
"I haven't danced in a while," she replied, dancing at about half speed to the music playing. She and everyone else kept telling Forn that the playlist was exhausting, but he'd insisted on keeping the same relative beats per minute.
"Busy in school?" he leered.
"Already graduated," she feigned a smile, "But advanced degrees in political science seems a little more dangerous nowadays."
He laughed. It was an abrasive guffaw.
"You got that right," he was still recovering from his heaving snorts.
They were silent for a few moments, and she shimmied her way a little closer, turning his glassy staring a little more thoughtful. He frowned, ever so small.
"What's your name?"
"Oola," Nima replied.
"You know anything about witches, Oola?" his apparent exhaustion was starting to clear away.
"Only the ones in office," she flashed her teeth in a sneer.
At least it made him laugh, as horrid as that was. She was starting to get tense.
"You're funny," he pointed a lazy finger, "I just have this feeling..."
She was about to summon her pistol from its hidden spot in the ceiling, but he shook his head.
"I've been working too much," he closed his eyes, "Been trying to figure out who this witch is. She apparently threw a shuttle at one of our transports and..."
"And?" she asked SO interestedly.
"They don't have a holo on her," he started staring harder, "Said she was a pink twi'lek."
The others in their booths were yelling for drinks. The smell of various processed forms of spice wafted through the air. The human's face pulled tight as he reached for a hidden blaster, but that was as far as he got when she threw another booth at him.
The Force, or the White Current, as her teachers had tried and failed to instill in her, flowed freely, creating an outsized telekinetic ruckus that inspired shouts at first, and blaster fire second. The other Galactic Front fools had smuggled in hold-out blasters-- it did not match her own after a concealed heavy blaster pistol flew from the ceiling into her hands. It wasn't even comparable to Vook's, and he didn't use the Force. She'd had to run up the wall to avoid the first barrage, but used the detritus from her first attack to fling at the underlings. The dancers had fled just far enough to not get hit, luckily, but Nima felt a wave of nausea at how close she came to killing innocent bystanders.
A few bolts still flew her way and even connected, the searing pain causing a reflexive attempt to cloak herself with the Force and run away. The witch hunters weren't dead, only dazed, and it meant it was Vook alone until another bouncer or Forn did anything. She couldn't leave yet.
Suddenly, the first human stood up. It should have been impossible, given how hard she'd hit him with heavier things, but there he was, looking around as though he expected Nima to still be standing there. By now, people had mostly cleared out, but the other bounces hadn't moved in. She reached out, sensing confusion from them, and the shrill flavor of mounting terror in Vook as he stood alone. She couldn't hide when it was just him and imperialists.
Drawing further on the Force, she centered her aim and a single bolt rang out. Vook swung around, and she felt his terror before she saw it on his face.
"Vook, it's me, I think they're done," she held her weapon up.
"How did you do all this?" he clutched his bowcaster.
"They weren't wrong about who I am or what I can do," she tried to be soothing, "And I think I need to get going."
"We... We gotta wait for Forn, or the authorities, or something," he remembered he had a weapon in his hands.
"Vook, look around!" she flung her hands out, "You're the only one who stood their ground. You need friends and allies. So do I."
The stood across from each other for what seemed forever.
"Run with me, Vook."
Cracking open a wall, they made a third exit out of the club, face to face with a confused human.
"So uh," he pointed behind them, "You all are closed, eh?"
************************
Nima Freykaa
Nima loved to dance from a young age, and studied every style she could. It wasn’t until her studies at Bar’leth that gained a much wider perspective on scum and villainy, both bureaucratic and illicit.
Her initial despair at the realities of the galaxy were met with a conspicuously timed offer from Jarton Morslun, a Force-wielding academic with extensive knowledge of the Fallanassi tradition. Using its spiritual concepts and verbiage, he taught Nima a syncretic version that incorporate active telekinetic abilities, likening them to the crashing waves and so on.
She began, at Jarton’s urgings, taking on bodyguard roles for holo talk show hosts and minor politicians whose rhetoric frequently criticized the Commonwealth and previous Republic formations. She thought nothing of it for a couple of years-- she made bank on these jobs due to her Force-based powers of anonymity. The few times there was trouble, assailants had miscounted the men, either due to assuming she was a tertiary figure, or because that one assassin droid literally couldn’t see her. It was a lush life.
And then, instead of merely advocating for stronger federalism, some of the retinues she’d joined had openly imperialist sympathies, with adversarial views on things like women, non-humans, and Force-users.
Dropping all contact with her mentor, she fled across the galaxy, taking various jobs necessitating more discretion when newer Morslun students would try to find her. At a certain point it became all about mobility and secrecy instead of profit.
And then it became about vengeance. The nascent GUF had began franchising out from the Core Worlds, and being undetectable by Force-blind idiots made throwing shuttles at their vehicles an increasingly accessible delight. By the time of her flight with Vook, she has a sizable bounty out on her, and is seeking political allies to shelter with.
Witch Hunting
The GUF has a relentless propaganda bureau, and one of the things they’re managing to do is place an outsized fear of Force-users in the general populace. Sure, they’ll work with “the good ones” in order to hunt down the ones they’ve othered, but if the GUF ever takes real power, it would only be a matter of time until they too are purged.
Nima
Twi'lek Noble 7/Crime Lord 5
Str 12
Dex 16
Con 13
Int 14
Wis 16
Cha 18
Talents
1 White Current Adept
2 Connections
4 Force Immersion
6 Gifted Entertainer (dancing)
8 Surrender to the Current
9 Telekinetic Power
10 Telekinetic Savant (Move Object)
11 Move Massive Object
12 Attract Minion
Feats
Linguist
1 Force Sensitive
3B Skill Focus (Persuasion)
3 Force Training (4 powers)
5B Skill Focus (Use the Force)
6 Point Blank Shot
7B Skill Focus (Deception)
9 Precise Shot
12 Force Training (4)
Skills Trained 7->8
Deception
Persuasion
Stealth (from Talents)
Use the Force
Gather Information
Perception
Knowledge (Bureaucracy)
Knowledge (Galactic Lore)
Use Computer
Ayoma lit a death stick, her eyes wide. It had been a couple months since she thought of yet another galactic civil war, but imperialists had stormed the senate while she slept. And by all accounts, it looked like the guards on Denon had let them right in.
It shouldn't have shocked her, she'd known full well it's where the Corporate Sector Authority had been driving galactic politics for a while. It was a consistent theme in galactic history no one really wanted to address, even the democracies of the Republics and their anti-Imperial militant wings loved wrapping themselves up in the admittedly quite romantic drapings of Good versus Evil, Light versus Dark. Sorcerors came in all forms, she knew, but the incorporated lust for profit was eternally treacherous.
But it was still too soon. She still hadn't kissed a beautiful woman!! Her pulse quickened between panicked puffs of smoke. She couldn't even afford to get out of the sector with this rinky dink job. "Ranger" was a grand title, but baby-sitting animals behind multiple fail-safe levels was less about excitement and more about taking holos with your favorites when no one was looking.
Her lungs had been protesting smoke lately. She hacked out a cough, but it felt as though it took some of her breath with it, like on the next lungful of air. It's just the panic, she reasoned with herself, it's just the overwhelming anxiety at the prospect of imminent war that will take everything and everyone you love, you don't need new lungs yet.
She wandered over to the Reek exhibit. Daanas had given birth a little over a year ago to her male calf Teillu. Ayoma had been on duty that night, and was hoping the baby would have been born during the day so she wouldn't get overwhelmed by herself with a giant animal needing veterinary assistance, but no. It was just her, Daanas, and the new baby.
"Where's my son?" she asked to no one in particular. One of the reasons she hated night shift was that working alone made people weird. A year into it, she was forced to admit she was weird now too. Speaking to herself, dancing around and singing just because no one was there. Isolation is not for thinking beings.
Teillu was idly munching some of the produce from their last meal. He used to be so small, like as a calf, he could have put on a little costume and passed as a tiny bantha, but a few months in he was decidedly reek-shaped. But he was a big boy now. The Mirialan woman teared up a little.
"I don't want all this to affect you either, babbu," her mouth twisted up.
A cold sort of calm set on her like morning condensation. It always takes people, but it doesn't have to take everything. There could be something left for others, if not for her. She touched her leg where her three pronged starbird crest tattoo was. Not a cultural inheritance like the ones on her face, but a soul deep pledge. To fight and oppose their forces, by any and all means at her disposal, to refuse any despotic law contrary to the rights of free beings, to make forever free all beings in the galaxy.
First things first, she had to hit some still-hopeful subspace channels to see who was mobilizing where.
*****
This does not go with my previous SWSE setting, as all the sequels are out and also something happened in America yesterday.
I imagine this still happening quite a bit after Rise of Skywalker, maybe, I dunno, 90ish years later? So maybe there can be a New Jedi Order of sorts.
The Galactic Unification Front is a militant advance form of Imperial Revivalism, but without the Sith in charge this time. It’s being profited on and funded by capitalists who keep lamenting the lack of industrial production the Galaxy had seen in generations previous. How very fucking convenient for them.
Are the Sith dead? I don’t care. The Final Order and Palpatine were hastily rigged together to appease fascist white boys so who actually gives a shit. I hope the Sith are gone. I like some of the stuff that should have been center stage instead, like the Knights of Ren and “the Ren” being a form of stripped down, no frills combat based on dark side feelings of aggression I guess? Given that the only dorks that did it died, I am not super inclined to make rules for it, but I do think about it.
Which government are they toppling? Same as ever, liberal democracy, this time with some painfully familiar help from rich assholes who add nothing to existence except misery. I don’t want to call it the DOOP or whatever, and decidedly not The Third Republic, but it should read as something like The Interstellar Commonwealth of Systems. Let’s go with The Commonwealth.
What role will light side Force wielders have if they’re to avoid the pitfalls of previous Jedi? It’s a thing to keep in mind. The Skywalker Jedi should be something that grew beyond the fallibilities of the Old Order. Maybe that means tolerance for gray users. I would say only in as much as they can be redemptive influences, not like the goody goods that need a grimdark edge to Do What They Can’t, that sucks. Plus like, old timey Jedi Sentinels kinda did that? Maybe the Jedi shouldn’t be full timers, like HAVE TIES THAT BIND YOU TO OTHERS IN THE ‘WORLD’, and make a difference there, Jedi-branded franchisee approval style. Asceticism is for dorks now. I honestly think that’s what they’re trying to do with Ahsoka now, and what they intended the theme of the New Jedi to be.
To say that if the Jedi die, the Light dies, is hubris. I might toy with new non-saber religious tendencies in the near feature. I am feeling Star Warsy given the state of things.
Ayoma, Mirialan (Near-Human) Scoundrel 7
Str 10
Dex 13
Con 9
Int 12
Wis 16
Cha 14
Talents
1 Make an Example
3 For the Cause
5 Gambler/Oafish (Adaptive Talent)
7 Gambler
"I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
The cameras never stopped, but years at the firm led to an impeccable public persona. It was a large part of how a two term representative got picked out as VP, but then again, a little help from the Senior Partners goes a long way. He gave a picture perfect smile to the judge, bigger than the tight control he normally displayed, but still just as false.
It would be a while before he got to a place of privacy, something that made him begin to clench his jaw after a while. The American people were desperately pathetic, constantly delaying anything worthwhile, and he needed to get out.
Lawrence smoothed his salt and pepper hair, the only gesture he allowed himself, and largely as a joke for the press. His assistant was hovering in the periphery, and there was nothing he’d rather be doing than delegating long-awaited tasks.
He gestured to Mallory; an hour in and it was far past time to get the hell out of there. No more shmoozing, no more firing up the very amenable base. It was time.
“Sir, we’ve got a meet-and-greet in Virginia next--” Mallory began.
“Stop and listen,” President Myers said, his genial mask slipping into the authoritative annoyance he’d honed so well, “Call my guys at Homeland Security and ICE. I want all funding to IDRS halted and deferred to them.”
“Of course,” his assistant knew better than to respond with hesitation or confusion, “We’ll work up a press release too.”
“America solves its own problems, we don’t need INTERPOL junior here doing whatever the fuck they want,” he declared, “I don’t care who it needs to go through, we’ll start with an executive order if I have to.”
“Absolutely,” Mallory complied, writing everything down, “And about the rally--”
“Fucking rallies,” his brow creased, conjuring up the lines in his brow that should have been deeper at 50, “That horseshit needs to be cut in half if we’re gonna get anything done this year.”
“Of course.”
A New, Confused Hope (March)
The tones of the aggravating electric chime rang again. Probably some lookie-loo or new witch seeking locally grown sage. Luckily, it does well enough in pots, so Logan always had a supply for the newly witchy.
He sniffed. Among the incenses and minty goodness of the growing sage, he caught a distinct eau de troll, and...
“Hey, Aszea, try not to get vamp dust everywhere,” he called out without looking to the front of the shop.
“Logan, is Janis in? We have a kind of a situation,” the giant woman responded.
The way Aszea said situation made his ears perk, and probably would have without extra sensitive hearing. He placed his book down and made his way to the front, and was a little surprised that there were two people, and that the young woman with the troll was actually the one who smelled of dead vampires.
“Wwwwwwwhat?” Logan looked confused.
“So this is Emily.” Aszea put a hand softly on the girl’s shoulders, “She’s a sophomore at the catholic school, and she just killed like, three vampires.”
“Wait, really?” Logan moved around the counter, “That sounds like Slayer stuff, but--”
“Right, she had a little assistance,” Aszea looked indignant, “But I told her about the Augury, and that we may be able to help her learn about what’s going on, and that, while it’s weird to have adult friends...”
“Having adult employers would be a good cover for a new Potential,” Logan knew immediately. He realized he’d carried a crystal ball out from stock, and set it down on an empty stand. “Twenty hours a week of magical supervision, little to no suspicion.”
“Twenty paid hours,” Aszea pointed out.
“Can you help me?” the girl’s eyes finally flickered up from her thousand yard stare. She was still in shock over what had happened, and Logan felt all the deeply bittersweet memories of watching someone learn some truth about the world lean a little more bitter when they locked eyes.
“Of course,” he said as softly as he could, “Just let me text the boss lady.”
Bad Actors (September)
“Well, shit!” Janis cursed, double-checking her phone.
“More amateur mages mucking up the mojo?” Logan asked, leaning over the counter.
“No, this was a test,” Janis held a finger in the air, “Someone is doing this on purpose, poisoning the well, and Iiiiiiiiii...”
Her face fell as she knew she’d have to admit something.
“Don’t know what to do about it?” Logan cut into her thought break.
“Yes, thanks, I was going to say that,” Janis twisted her mouth up, “Did you find the sleep daught?”
“Yeah, but I gotta skip it, Asz said there’s an inordinate amount of undead lately so I’ll be off the leash,” he said without looking at her.
“Any better at it? Can’t have you biting our only Slayer ally,” Janis crossed her arms, partly to glower and mostly to stop staring into her phone.
“I’ll tell you when you figure out what’s going on with the Tumblr coven.”
It was often tempting to throw annoying hexes at Logan, but ever since Myers ascended to the presidency, everything had been looking worse for the magical community, and she couldn’t afford to piss off any allies, even her werewolf store clerk.
“Who’d have thought I’d be curious as to where Phil went since January, huh?” she brushed a lock of hair out of her face, a small act of control in her increasingly chaotic life.
All Saints’ Order (November)
Brian raised his hands in victory. The molotov had crashed through the heathen storefront, and a small fire began taking hold inside. The Augury would be cleansed from his city.
Around him, his brothers cheered, hoisting their various weapons into the air, yells of “Hail Myers!” amongst the more enthusiastic wordlessness. They’d save their country, he knew, they’d start the next crusade, they’d burn--
Janis ended the spell.
“What’s happening?” Emily spoke up.
“We’re minus one shop and plus one openly fascistic anti-magic movement,” Janis responded flatly.
“Fuck,” was Aszea’s whole contribution the conversation.
*****************
So the last post was a couple years ago, and I’ve been watching a lot of Buffy, so here’s some setting update.
Lawrence Myers, 46th president of the United States, was a lawyer at a little firm known as Wolfram & Hart, and spent two terms as a representative for the state of Nevada before being courted, seemingly at random, as VP. When a very unexpected death opened up a vacancy in the White House, his administration fed on the zeitgeist of right wing American concerns and interests: a desire for law and order, fed by a covert program that produced chaos in the form of systematically sired mobs of vampires; fear and revulsion at the statistics of religion, that “witch” was now outpacing the growth of more “traditional” religious tendencies (see: christian denominations); and retaliation, essentially encouraged by the White House with its failure to criticize vigilante actions against apparently “satanic” sorts, such as middle class store owners or their working class superpowered/strange employees. Meanwhile, already prestigious or successful warlocks and demonic allies remained untouched by the ignorant sycophants.
Janis Morad, witch, demonologist, former entrepreneur. “Technopagan” is a term of the past, largely discarded in favor just plain ole witch, and Janis made her first sales online when Certain Social Websites started making witchcraft aesthetic. Using mundane practitioners to fund her own actual magickal ventures, she was largely able to fly under the radar until the All Saints’ executive order, which was supposed to fund governmental policing of Weird Stuff, but also just kind of invigorated an irate and clueless portion of the populace.
Logan Benson, werewolf. He was bit shortly before going to work with Janis, and has been pacified in his wolf phases by Janis’ alchemical experimentations. He’s been more and more eager to help out Aszea on nights as she seems immune to lycanthropy and is both tough and regenerative enough to survive the more mundane mauling that happened when he and the troll first met.
Emily Szymanski, Slayer. She’s mostly around because I had an idea that I liked-- that the Slayer Potential awakening spell was for extant Slayer Potentials when it was cast, not every one of them since. That being the case (how generous of me to myself), beginning in 2018 or later is the perfect time-- as Potentials come into age fifteen years later, we could be seeing one brand new Slayer for every one that has died since s7 of Buffy. This opens things up to a classic high school Slayer experience that we’re familiar with, while also still seeing a few “grizzled” vets in their mid to late twenties. I tend to assume “The life of a Slayer is brutally short,” but you don’t have to.
Generally speaking, she’s timid, I envisioned her as a nerdy Slayer, which will be fleshed out and statted when I get to it.
Aszea, troll. She was transformed from her assigned gender at birth through a wish-- one that she did not word carefully enough despite assuming she’d been quite particular. She wished to be a woman, but not specifically a human woman, and whoops. Now she mostly patrols and is the big muscle of the group.
Beyond this post, it’ll be set concurrent to whenever I’m writing, which is why I wanted to jump past all the time I didn’t include since the first two posts. Characters will have character sheets whenever they get their own story.
Instead of rolling dice the players have to use a Youtube randomizer to pull up a random video. The DM must interpret whether the video implies a success or a failure.
April 3rd, 2560, UNSC West at Dusk, Pathfinder fleet
Dr. Virtanen stood at the console, watching the latest readouts. No degradation of the neural pathways, or at least, nothing that couldn’t be repaired. A derivative of 87556-UD61 would probably be what they needed to jump the hurdles of flash-cloned brains, but as it was, extra work and months of patience were needed to keep things intact. Doors opening interrupted her thoughts.
“I still say fours are the way to go.”
“You know the resources involved,” Emilia sighed, “You know we need Spartans who can do what’s necessary even outside the armor. And you know the tension between UNSC grunts and ONI, even if you call yourself Spartan Ops now. Do you want a supersoldier mutiny?”
“Yeah, I know, doc,” the Spartan woman had her arms crossed, “And secrets tend to get out, especially in confined spaces. Do you think the threes will take it personally if they find out they’re fake?”
Lauren Lucas, Spartan IV, loomed at least a foot higher. Her hair was longer than most of the other Spartans, but that probably had to do with her never having been a marine.
“Their conditioning ought to make them ambivalent, although maybe a little confused by it,” she replied, “But given the memories we scripted, they’re Spartans. Old style. Don’t know if you met any, but they’ll be the most task oriented soldiers you’ll have ever worked with.”
“That’s not necessarily good,” Lucas stuck her chin out at the cloning tank, “Spartan twos, the ones that still exist, are said to develop sociopathic tendencies. And Gamma Company didn’t do much to dissuade people of that. Might do to make them a little more personable.”
“So they’ll be like you?” Virtanen quirked a brow.
“So they’ll be predictable, or at least a little more human,” the Spartan replied.
“That’s not what made them legends, Lauren,” Emilia shook her head, “You know about S-117.”
“Yeah, I know how literally nothing has stopped him yet, and the only reason that’s good is because he’s been on our side!” Lauren snapped, “He has a kill count in the millions due to the scope and sheer insanity of his career! Please tell me they have personalities, like, I don’t know, favorite foods, a fondness for a particular musical genre, anything.”
“They have histories,” Emilia said defensively, “The original threes were all recruited, not abducted. They had early childhoods and faced the losses of their families. We’ve used psych specs and personal elements of extant Spartan threes to weave together their new fictions, don’t worry so much.”
Lauren walked over to the cloning tank. The woman inside would end up taller than her, but she looked young.
“Who is she?”
“Spartan D013.”
“Not what I asked.”
“Gia Hughes,” the doctor sighed, “One donor from the Umaasa and one from cold storage. She volunteered for Project REPOSE as part of OUROBOROS, obviously classified at all levels except on a need to know basis. Told that we needed someone around in case Reach went sideways. If she goes offscript, let me know.”
“She looks like a kid,” Lauren said softly.
“Some of the real threes definitely were when they started active service,” Emilia said in a conciliatory tone, “She’ll be about 18 when we wake her up.”
“She’s not now?” Lauren spun to look at the doctor, “She’s my height already.”
“She’s tall, she’ll be about 7 feet once the augmentations are done.”
“Good thing they made the doors big, eh?”
*******************************
Halo Mythic is a fan made game, which you can find on its sub reddit, r/HaloMythic. It’s mostly charts.
Project OUROBOROS as a setting happens right before and concurrent with Halo Infinite, depending on how long the timeline is for that game when it comes out, and takes its name from the canon initiative to preserve humanity in times of crisis, while expanding what all they did to prepare.
In the videogames, the only thing linked to the project is Infinity, a colony ship with great new engines repurposed by the UNSC. The campaign setting is mostly to explore more parts of what humanity has prepared, from evacuees to ONI contingencies, and to explore new planets, which is helpfully aided by a chart on planetary generation in the PDF.
Pathfinder Fleet
Headed by the UNSC West at Dusk, the fleet is half military, half large colony ships. The evacuation fleet was chosen to be genetically diverse and small, about 20,000 people, in order to avoid detection that would come in larger scales. Launched after the Created began attacking worlds, they’re following a similar “retreat immediately” reaction, constantly on the move, and ever outward at that.
You can put as many ships as you want, but a couple of Pheonix-class colony ships should be included as all civilian transports, neither of which are at full capacity, which can provide space for recreation areas, labs, schools, or just extra living space.
One of the things colony ships provide is “shore leave” space for UNSC personnel, who will typically stay aboard the military vessels otherwise. It hasn’t been that long, but time off does not need to be taken “at work.” As it’s only been six months since the end of Halo 5, it’s not an immediate issue, but following months and years could make time off a little more pressing of an issue.
What the hell is this about new Spartan IIIs?
The game lists character generation rules for everything from the Orions to Spartan IVs, but mostly makes the suggestion you play them era-appropriate.
Catherine Halsey developed Cortana with 24 year old flash cloning tech in 2549. ONI, seeing the successes of basically every Spartan program since, developed a more modern process following after the end of the Human-Covenant war, and while not flawless, provided something workable. With the addition of drug 87556-UD61 during the flash clone process, flash cloned brains held up with remarkable consistency, leaving only the now-less-frequent genetic anomalies of the rest of the body to deal with.
The UNSC West at Dusk has since been the primary laboratory for this process, highly protected and mobile in order to keep the secrecy of it. After the Created, it’s under the command of Spartan Commander Lauren Lucas, and is run openly under Spartan Ops, though due to her previous career in Section 3 and the sensitivity involved with REPOSE, typically works under the auspices of ONI as well.
Most of the Spartan IVs present are also ex-ONI, though a few are handpicked marines, one of whom had been an ODST (no it’s not Buck because I assume he’ll be in Infinite somewhere but it can be for your game, Buck is easily the coolest).
Project REPOSE is the codename for the cloning process, disguised as a deep-freeze op, mentioned above. Spartan 2s and 3s are flashcloned and, assuming they’re not bonkers, allowed to go into service for Spartan Ops, being told that yeah, it’s time, humanity might be destroyed for real. They can be as personable or not as you like, but again, the idea is that these ones were literally born/programmed to be on humanity’s side- they’re not here to pick fights with the other humans.
Setting Conflicts
So this isn’t Battlestar Galactica. While there could be potential conflicts between Spartans and the rest of the military present over secrets, they’re running from Cortana and the Created. Also there are just... so many Covenant remnant factions, and pretty much only the Arbiter’s group is at all amicable with humanity. And hey, who the hell knows where the Flood could pop up.
If you’ve never delved into the lore outside the games, humanity used to have an interstellar empire and got blasted back to the literal stone age in a war against the Forerunners. One of the armors in Halo 5, the Hellcat armor, is actually made using tech and materials from that old empire by modern humans, so it’s for real, and ONI knows in canon too, but most people don’t. You could run into a formerly human planet, such as Heian, which was later occupied by the Covenant, or you could make a new one and have reasons like The Flood is Here, Whoops. Maybe helping a Covie remnant against some Guardians yields new alliances. Shield planets are a good place to be in case some dork tries to fire off a nearby Halo ring. Maybe you’re in completely uncharted territory sooner than expected because of a slipspace wake and uh oh, you found the people you followed to get there and They’re Mad. In any case, there’s a need-- find a safe haven. Set up as many roadblocks to that as is fun for the players.
Hiyara balled her fists as her grandmother continued packing a bag. The elder didn’t stop.
“Soon enough,” she stated matter-of-factly, “Remember a few years ago when I ‘went to the North’ for a week? When the Avatar was visiting?”
“Yeah,” Hiyara looked skeptical, “Your first vacation in two years at that point. Are you saying you went to jail?”
“Yep,” gran smiled, “Well, sort of a house arrest, wherein they lent me a lush mansion on the other side of the world while Avatar Weiyong was in Harbor City.”
“What could they possibly have against you, gran? You’re a healer.”
Gran turned and looked at Hiyara with a professional smile. She was always good at dealing with belligerent people, patients or otherwise, so she was practiced well enough by the time she had a family. Still, it annoyed Hiyara.
“You know my illustrious career, of course, but do you know much about history?” gran asked. At least she’d stopped packing.
“History is a broad term, gran, what kind of history?”
Gran shrugged, “Oh, like Avatar Korra, Amon. Bloodbending?”
“Some, iittle, and none, in descending according to the legality of each subject,” Hiyara started to frown, “You’re not a bloodbender, are you?”
“Not really?” gran shrugged, though she sounded unsure, “But my thesis on Amon’s ability to take away people’s bending is the theoretical foundation of my practice today.”
“You’re a bloodbender,” Hiyara was stunned.
“No, not really, I promise!” Gran moved closer, “I just... I was fascinated with Avatar Korra since I was little, all the things she achieved and survived even by your age now. But one of the things we’d always hear about in the healing huts was Amon. born Noatak in the Northern Tribe. Bloodbender, bending stealer, everyone knows that part, But no doctor, and no waterbender had figured out exactly how he’d stolen people’s powers. The standing, unimpeachable answer was always “vascular and/or neurological damage caused by bloodbending,” and was not subject to question due to the ethics and, yeah, legality involved. It was generally supported by head wounds that rendered much more than bending unusable, and wasn’t to be investigated otherwise.”
“Can you take bending away??” Hiyara was starting to feel a little horrified.
“Only theoretically!” Gran pointed enthusiastically, “There are a lot of things I wanted to avoid-- being stuck in the healing huts with all the old women back home, being called a ‘guru’, or a ‘mad scientist,’ and most definitely charges of bloodblending. I wanted nothing except to be Doctor Kayada. But... for as much as I wanted to get away from home, I remembered two things. The way Amon would access bending through the forehead, and the old healing dummies I was started on. He was using the meridians we used for water healing, just as conduits to the appropriate chakras through the Light chakra itself!”
“Gran you still haven’t said how this isn’t bloodbending!”
“Oh, that’s easy, I used a saline solution and sort of push that around,” Gran continued, almost ignoring the conflict in the conversation, “It somehow satisfies their strictures. But chakras, Hiyara, they’re opened and closed through emotion, and what emotions govern the Light chakra?”
Gran pointed again, waiting for the answer, but Hiyara just shook her head. She wasn’t in school for religious studies or medicine.
“Insight and illusion!” Gran cried, “Amon created illusory wounds to those areas through the chakra most susceptible to them, which is why no one but the Avatar figured out how to fix them! Lies they and their bodies believed! And he used water healing principles to accomplish it!”
At this point gran’s arms were in the air, as if reliving the revelatory moment. Hiyara just looked at her normally reserved grandmother with confusion and a little fear.
“But why would they arrest you?” she asked quietly.
“Oh, the White Lotus just thinks your genius gran could be a threat to the current Avatar because of the one time I stopped him.”
Kayada returned to packing. It was maybe a bit too hopeful to assume she could have gone to see the rocket launch if Weiyong was going to be there.
“Stopped him from what, gran?!”
******************
Kayada M.D.
Kayada’s theory is not mine, I stole it in whatever form I internalized it from Hello Future Me’s video in this link, but I wanted to have someone in the setting to realize that, as a potential conflict from either Kayada herself or an a new external threat. I imagine Kayada as generally genial, well-meaning, and not as invested in mysticism UNTIL it intersects with medical science. She has a practice in Shaomen, a newer United Republic City in the Hu Xin provinces. Shaomen is not canon except to this setting, and because I am running out of United Republic place names. Kayada’s clinic is like, 1/3 general practice (water healing is generally very useful), 1/3 sports medicine (pro-benders seek her out in particular because what if their loss was bending related rather than injury or skill related????? Big money there), and 1/3 “psychiatry” (because manipulating positive emotions through waterbending is at least palliative therapy, and at best, an actual ATLA-unique version of psychiatric medicine).
Kayada vs. Weiyong
Why would someone who’s only ever trying to help cross the Avatar and be subsequently banned from any and all contact within a number of miles?
Political Differences
In one scenario, I think of Kayada as having been a witness to some massive infrastructural damage to Shaomen, and going out personally to close off some bending to make it stop, getting mixed up about who’s who and accidentally closing off some of Weiyong’s bending until things are cleared up. This one incident meshes with her standard do-gooding persona, and explains why her family doesn’t always know why she keeps avoiding the Avatar (willingly or by state order). The realization of her abilities by the White Lotus with regards to Weiyong have placed her on a watchlist.
Trade Secrets
A colleague or academic rival has learned Kayada’s methods and has used it to profitable and definitely unethical ends. I am leaving a lot of details ambiguous in this scenario, just because a new bending-stealer could easily be used in “present day.” You could still have Kayada and Weiyong’s now-genial relationship as a background distance between them, and calling off the minimum distance order she has to keep in order to help hunt down your new antagonist.
However. I envision this as being Kayada’s “real” backstory. Tesroq, a water bender and Kayada’s number one at her practice, was taught how to heal her way and fill in for her while she was on Team Avatar during the Deep Spirit crises. And rather than open abuse, he’d covertly mess with pro-benders in order to help fix matches, which drew the considerable attention of Boss Shai and the Agni Kai Triad.
The technical prowess of Kayada being passed on to someone less incorruptible also drew notice from the Dai Li, who had hoped to recruit Tesroq for some super shady shit regarding the situation of the Earth States, but Tesroq himself was enamored with the metropolitan lifestyle in the United Republic, and refused.
Of course, the Deep Spirits crises weren’t constant or all at once, and Team Avatar started heading home, first visiting Shaomen, since Kayada was less combat oriented than the rest. The timing for Tesroq couldn’t have gone better-- with the Dai Li sending alternating offers and threats, the Agni Kais thoroughly pissed regarding an undefeated pro bending team, and Kayada starting to wonder what was amiss, his escape was provided by the threeway battle over his capture. Even with help from the White Lotus, Tesroq was never caught.
Weiyong did get some of his bending blocked, but the White Lotus arranged a cover story and confiscated all scholastic papers regarding Kayada’s methods. She was still allowed to practice on the condition that she would be portrayed as the danger to the Avatar, avoiding all mention of Tesroq. She and Weiyong still correspond though, since they were close as comrades and confidants, and Weiyong always sends photos of an event related to his latest obligations.
She’s Definitely a Mad Scientist
In this scenario, I kind of see her as morally ambivalent and always chasing the goal of learning more, kinda like Entrapta in She Ra, where the sides don’t matter as long as she keeps Doing the Thing, that maybe she’ll finally unlock something amazing. Her practice is more or less a front for capital, and while she may only take willing subjects, it’s still fucking sketchy, and requires a stronger synthesis between bloodbending and water healing. Perhaps here she’s looking for a way to actually produce bending in subjects that never had it, or add new elements to existing benders, since they already possess energy bending of any kind and it’s just easier or something.
I like Kayada as a friend and ally but there are seeds for so much mischief.
Mechanically Speaking
No player character should have the ability to block bending beyond Ty Lee levels, which exists in the game already. But, should your characters have their bending blocked, it should be a several Chi-cost adventure to regain it. It’s also hard to manage since you don’t need bending to access every move in a playbook, so it’s more of a GM fiat move than systematic usage.
You can check out Legend of the Elements on DriveThru RPG and their page full of extra resources, Actual Play links, and essays at the Logbook Project!
Novenas Shinigami arc
Opening theme: "Take Me Home" by Ken Ashcorp
Raito reached for her sword, but it wasn't there. It wasn't that she saw anything, but it was dark and rainy again, just like it was when she received it.
A crablike monster moves in diagonals along the street, a muddle of grays and purples with a giant mask and unnerving humanlike teeth. Its four arms should have been claws, but instead are long and spindly with hands at the end. One of its left arms holds a sword with an odd tsuba. Raito throws another rock, trying to distract it from the child wearing what looks like a couple of chain links on her chest.
"Oi, schoolgirl," a familiar voice called out ahead of her. It was her again.
"Yaeyume, I'm in university," Raito snapped back to reality, "Do you see me in a uniform?"
A very tall, pale woman with midnight black hair leaps into the lane and in this flash, the monster's sword arm disappears too. She carries a heavy European looking blade. She looks directly at Raito and tells her to run.
"Sorry, it's just, at a certain point, everyone just looks young," Yaeyume grins, "Not 20, not 18, just obviously younger than me."
"You're not old!" Raito insisted, then noticed what the shinigami was carrying, "Are those... frozen dinners?"
"Yeah! Just out getting groceries, not business this time," the taller woman nods.
"Yaeyume, you have to eat real food, not just frozen gyoza!!" Raito fumes.
"This is real food!" came with a frown, “Protein, calories, the uh... other things!”
A human woman somehow sword fights a giant crab monster with ease. It follows a pattern; the masked crab attempts to pick up the sword and she lops off another arm or hand. Their chaos stumbles closer to the girl with the chain. Raito moves in.
"Criticisms aside," Yaeyume sniffed, "Are you coming over for more practice?"
"Yes, but let me cook at least," Raito pleaded, "I'll bring some veggies."
Yaeyume looked almost taken aback, ready to protest, when Raito continues.
"I'll bake something too, we can have dessert," she smiled.
Raito sweeps the child into her arms and keeps running. The fight shouldn't be important but she looks over her shoulder anyway. The sword fighter was drawing down on the monster's mask. She shuts her eyes.
The rain started coming down heavier, and the shinigami flinched. She didn't have an umbrella, just bags full of boxed meals. Raito jogged over.
"Here, let's switch," she offered her umbrella, "You can walk me home."
"If going out of my way means my gyoza thaws, I'm blaming you."
"Just take the umbrella you goofy half-giant!"
"Yes, miss Kotsuzato, of course, miss Kotsuzato" came the mocking servility.
"Who are you?" the dark haired woman demands, "How can you see any of this?"
Raito is at a loss, and merely replies, "R-Raito... Kotsuzato."
"Okay well rule number one, Raito Kotsuzato," she frowns, "If you're a civilian, you run *away* from Hollows, regardless of what's going on."
"This girl was going to be crushed and you didn't even care!" Raito shouts, "I don't know who you think you are--"
"What do you even know about spirits, civilian? Hmm?" she quirks an angry brow, "Sure, she might have been kicked around, but she's not going anywhere until I perform the Soul Funeral."
"Spirits?" Raito looks at the girl with the chain.
"Yeah, the Hollow, her, that," she points at the sword on the ground, "All none of your business."
"Wait, so... I wasn't crazy?" Raito's eyes go wide, "I've been seeing things since--"
"One thing at a time," the tall warrior hits the child with the butt of her sword, "Go peacefully, sweetie."
The girl vanishes before getting to speak, and Raito blanches.
"What did you do?" she looks around.
"One thing a time," the swordswoman repeats, "I'm Yaeyume Chidama. I kill monsters called Hollows, and I help lost spirits get to the afterlife before they turn into Hollows themselves. You're not crazy."
She nods toward the spare sword.
"And there may be an opening if you want to help. I'll tell you more if you do."
The rain starts to pick up, and Raito, processing one thing at a time, wonders when she dropped her umbrella.
**********************************
I apologize for nothing in these upcoming posts, I’ve been rewatching Bleach because I stopped when the Soul Society arc was originally airing and I’m all in. I’m writing more in the dub style where it’s given-surname and other bits that will be obvious in the future.
Bleach d20 is an absolutely absurd module based on D&D 3.x and d20 Modern. Duelo Paraíso is an AU setting set basically whenever you want, I’m doing it recentish rather than when the original show or manga was set. I will detail the weird separate elements in future posts. I didn’t make up any of the fake Japanese-- thank you to fantasynamegenerators for that, since Tite Kubo made up all his names too and I am not confident in matching that aesthetic myself. Spanish thanks to google translate.
In the appendix, Not Entirely Serious Things, there’s a little template called Main Character, which bumps up stats and doubles XP gain among other things, like a theme song, which just goes to show how serious these posts are gonna be, and it has been applied to Raito.
Raito Kotsuzato, lvl 1 Smart Hero/lvl 1 Warrior Shinigami
Str 10
Dex 16
Con 10
Int 17
Wis 14
Cha 15
HP 18
BAB +1 (+4 to hit w/zanpakuto)
Def Bonus +6 (+4 base, +3 Dex, -1 Flaw)
Fort +2
Ref +3
Will +2
Flaws: Vulnerable (-1 Def), Broke
Feats:
B Educated
H Alive
1 Seasoned
2b Weapon Finesse
Skills
Knowledge Art 12 = 4+3+5
Research 9 = 4+3+2
Perform Sing 6 = 4+2
Knowledge Current Events 11 = 4+3+4
Knowledge Popular Culture 11 = 4+3+4
Craft: Visual Art 7 = 4+3
Search 7 = 4+3
Decipher Script 7 = 4+3
Knowledge Streetwise 11 = 4+3+4
Knowledge Tactics 11 = 4+3+4
Navigate 7 = 4+3
Knowledge Arcane Lore 11 = 4+3+4
Knowledge Negacion 5 = 1+3+1
Sense Motive 4 = 2+2
Jump 1 = 1+0+0
Balance 5 = 2+3
Tumble 5 = 2+3
Suppress Reiatsu 3 = 1+2
Class Abilities
Talent: Savant (+1 Competence bonus to Research)
Shinigami subtype
Zanpakuto (1d6 damage, 19-20x2)
Alternate form (zanpakuto took the form of a 16th century German rapier upon ownership)
Note, the Educated feat as described in Bleach d20 gives an untyped bonus to knowledge skills equal to the ranks in that skill, so that’s why all of that looks nuts for a 2nd level character. Really, a lot of the weirdness is just Bleach d20.
Add more player agency by making the players come up with the setting, enemies, premise of the game, rules system and entire plot while you sit outside in a pool drinking mojitos
Bim burst out of the sauna, startling the workers nearby. She at least remembered a towel on her way out.
“I-is everything okay, miss?” a young dwarf woman spoke up.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” Bim offered a too-bright smile, “I think I drifted off, had a nightmare is all. I’m uhhh, gonna grab my things and get some air.”
“This way, miss.”
She breathed deeply, trying to mask her panic, and reminding her body that it was not inhaling necrotic gas, nor was it suffering the massive internal damage that came with being flattened by an undead dragon. She hadn’t considered what hot, humid air would have triggered, but at the same time, this was supposed to be relaxing, damn it.
Bim smiled at her escort once again, who she guessed was following in case she passed out. The angle of the rooms seemed a little off now that she was spending so much time at her natural height, and her guide a little too short. Not that it was their fault. She was just tall all the time now.
They got to the changing area, and the dwarf waited nearby, politely turned away while Bim donned her clothes. She picked up the silver hand mirror nearby to study her facade. Smile, terrible, eyes, tired, hair, still a mess? Gods. How does no one see through her? It’s obvious. She reached a pale hand into her wallet and grabbed a couple of coins.
“Here sweetie, thank you so much,” Bim dropped however many gold she could grab into the dwarf woman’s hands. Her eyes lit up, then seemed confused, but Bim wheeled away, moving briskly past her before she could return it all.
“Miss?”
“It’s fine!”
Bim practically flew out of there, head spinning and heart pounding. Her gait might have been off she doubted anyone else would have noticed. To her, it felt like swaying. The air felt better though.
The passage of time didn’t feel right. She was just in Tradetown, how’d she get to Nine Bells? The realization of her whereabouts only struck her as the traffic became noticeably different. Smiles, hails, nods, all the recognition from the middle class types turned into a wide berth and whispers down here. Fine enough by her.
Shrine of the Raven Queen. Bim should have been embarrassed, given that time she made a damn scene, but it wasn’t weighing on her right now. She strode in to the rundown temple, giving her best fuck-off glare to the couple of people inside. One didn’t seem to comprehend, so she nodded toward the exit. Then pointed. Then shouted.
“Get out!” she growled.
As they scuttled away, she began her prayer.
“‘Hold no pity for those who suffer and die, for death is the natural end of life,’” she recited, the breathed deeply and smiled big. “Okay I’m just gonna do that part, because honestly, what the fuck?”
No one replied, so she went on.
“I liked that part of it. It got me to where I’m at,” Bim gestured around her, “And even though it’s bigger and weirder than I signed up for-- ya know, interplanar war as opposed to my stated goals of killing bad guys, kissing cuties, and having a nap-- there’s kind of a hitch.”
She strode toward the main altar, one she’d visited not that long before the invasion, and put two fingers to her chest, tapping violently.
“The meat fucking remembers!”
Bim’s light-headedness peaked with that scream, and she decided kneeling wouldn’t be the worst course of action.
“I know it’s fucking weird to say it like that but it’s concise,” she continued, much more subdued, “Being dead wouldn’t be the worst, we both agree on that. Problem is, dying itself is a little hard, and the body kinda protests. It’s stupid.”
She nodded, as if realizing the truth in two words.
“It’s fucking stupid!”
Bim’s eyes started watering, but rather than blink and risk obscuring her vision, she just tilted her head up let them drain out the corners on their own time. Still in public, richer than ever, tantrum or not. It was nice to have a cogent reaction in the midst of this.
“I got better when Ginmur was gone, and that was enough. Now there’s undead dragons and gith-whatevers and shadow people and... “ She allowed herself a little sob, “I don’t want it to keep escalating, because now-- now I have to get better, because my body doesn’t want to die.”
Stupid, self-indulgent, came whispers from a cold part of her mind. Get up. Start running. Get faster, hide better, kill more efficiently.
She knew it was just the same dispassionate part of her mind that made her mend after her husband, but Bim resented it. Making sense is for people with goals. She just wanted to go to bed.
********
I don’t really know if I can upload her file here or not but I wanna post Bim’s 11th level sheet. We just finished the last fight of the heroic tier and she nearly died twice to an undead dragon, but in turn she did like 140ish damage back, so good for you bubbie.
We houseruled some things and she’ll be taking a re-flavored Mercurial Assassin paragon thing, dropping the dragonborn req, and retooling the mercury to shadow, because thematic.
Gonna try mashing numbers and mechanics together until I get a workable Venture Bros game, if anyone’s interested I will eventually post rules. Been watching a lot of it recently, and have been faithfully following since 2003, realized there’s no videogames, and was like “Well I can’t make that, but I CAN introduce the world’s millionth ttrpg and not sell it but maybe Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer would at least get a kick that someone cared enough and they’d play it maybe.”
A few followers have asked for tips on writing romance into their stories or as the basis of their stories. Here’s a masterlist of sources (below cut) that may help.
General Romance:
What Defines Romantic Love?
How to Build a Romance Thread in Your Story
How to Plot a Romance Novel
Slowburn Romance
When Friends Fall for Each Other (ask)
Tips for Writing a Character Who Has a Crush
Tips on Writing Unrequited Love
Writing Healthy Couples in Fiction
An Antidote to “Love at First Sight”
How Attractive Should Your Characters Be?
3 Great Ways to Show That Your Character Is In Love
6 Ways to Get Your Readers Shipping Like Crazy
Six Steps to Stronger Character Arcs in Romances
Seven Great Sources of Conflict for Romances
9 Romance Writing Mistakes to Avoid
20 Tips for Writing Lovable Romance Novel Heroes
How to Write a Kissing Scene in a Romance Novel
Types of Kisses and Kissing + This Post Is All About Kisses
List of Ideas to Keep Romantic Tension High
100 Questions for Character Couples
How Do I Make the Relationship Development Realistic?
How Do I Know If Two People Are Compatible?
Healthy Relationships Can Include Teasing
YA Romance:
How to Write a YA Romance Without Cliché
20 Mistakes To Avoid When Writing Young Adult Fiction/Romance
Intercultural Romance:
How do I write an interracial couple accurately? (ask)
15 Common Stereotypes About Intercultural Relationships
Cross Cultural Relationships
[Ideas for] Your [Fictional] Cross-Cultural Relationship
