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Recruiting for a play-by-post Changeling: the Lost chronicle!

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  • #16
    Another refugee, reportin' in.


    • #17
      Originally posted by squidheadjax View Post
      Also, does anyone know how to subscribe to a thread on this forum?
      There's a Subscribe button at the top of each thread.


      • #18
        Is there space for another player? I'm the one who initiated the thread on rpgnet!


        • #19
          Originally posted by crapcarp View Post

          There's a Subscribe button at the top of each thread.
          That's the thing, I remembered there being one but I don't see it. I wonder if it's because I'm using Chrome now? That'd be weird.

          *tries something*


          Huh. The Chrome version of AdBlock disabled it. Super-weird.


          • #20
            Aaaaactually I'm starting to realize I'm in too many PbPs right now as it is. Sorry.


            • #21
              And one more player.


              • #22
                Hello, I'm still interested! I went on a short vacation for the past two days, and simply hadn't checked since my last post. As a player, I would check much more frequently.

                So do you still want some fiction/character ideas? I might be able to get something down later today.


                • #23
                  Confirming that I'm still here. Full pitch incoming tomorrow, but have a short version. A med school student triggers a Key during a stupid hazing game, falls right into the clutches of the Fae and simultaneously gets replaced with a Fetch. She's tasked with "fixing the broken toys", which are often hobgobliins or fellow changelings - needless to say, winning her master's favor by prolonging the suffering of her fellows doesn't sit well with her, but it was done. Some of them also escaped, mostly independent of her, and they remember.

                  Now that she's back, I can see a lot of potential hooks. She's slipped into a "not-exactly-above-board physician" role. which is bound to bring her in contact with plenty of desperate, downtrodden and dangerous people. Her most long-term plan at the moment is getting a fully realized alternate identity and putting her skills to legitimate use.. She's a little fuzzy on the Fetch, and so am I, that's the fun part!
                  Last edited by Dwyad; 10-07-2014, 12:02 AM.


                  • #24
                    Hello, again, I'm back with some fiction. I felt a "comic" character would be fun:

                    Mitch pulled open a draw in his desk and drew out a fifth of some dark liquor – the label had been torn off. He sat it on the desk and gestured towards it, as if to say help yourself. He put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with his finger, his glazed eyes lingering on the flame just long enough to accidentally light the end of his shirt sleeve on fire.
                    “You’re, uh, on fire again,” grunted the dwarf.
                    “Who is?” Mitch asked.
                    “You,” the dwarf answered, much more gruffly this time. This managed to provoke a response from Mitch, who patted out the spreading flame with his other hand, cigarette clenched between his teeth, fuming smoke out of his mouth.
                    “This was a mistake…” the dwarf rose.
                    “Hold on dude,” Mitch gestured to the chair again, “I can help ya’ out no problem.”
                    “I don’t think you are even sober, so I doubt that,” he turned.
                    Mitch cut the dwarf off physically, rushing in front of him, smoke curling around the two of them. “I know I may not be… straight or stiff or whatever, but I was a great attorney before my time in faerie, and now… now I’m still pretty good. I did pro bono cases and was assigned work by the judge and everything. I won-some-lost-some but mostly I settled things out of court and helped poor folks avoid jail time for being poor. You’re facing jail time here pal, I don’t care what fancy tricks you brought back from Arcadia, there is just no use getting your also known as mired in legal troubles and have to break free or go on the run or get a whole new identify.”
                    “What would you do for me…” the dwarf’s eyes betrayed his desire.
                    “I can get you off this no trouble… my secret though. Your case vanishes and then the harassment stops from the pigs stop. You can get back to your gardening.”
                    “But what do you get out of it? You weren’t forced to represent me.”
                    “Easy – you gotta grow me something in that patch ‘o yours through the hedge. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be in touch.”
                    “How can you be in this place and not burn it down by mistake? You are careless! And put that damn cigarette out – aren’t there smoke detectors in here!?”
                    Mitch smiled a slow half grin, “listen shorty, nobody cares about what goes on in the PD office. My clients are prostitutes and burglars who are too poor to afford an attorney. The public doesn’t care if they get a fair trial or not – nobody checks in here or gives a damn whether I do my job or not. Plus, I took out the smoke detectors when I got back – didn’t suit my ‘temperament’ anymore.”
                    There was a sudden ringing before the sprinklers turned on, dousing the two of them with gallons of water.
                    “Guess I missed one…”

                    So my inspiration here was to play a fire/trickster spirit. I see Mitch as a spring courtier who has decided to just relax and not care too much about the consequences of his actions. He was passionate and he was good at his job before he was taken, but now that he is back he has decided to lay low, enjoy life, and stay comfy. Not too much else has been fleshed out. As a character, he would add some interesting hooks, make mistakes (the best kinds, of course) and keep others on their toes.

                    Looking forward to the game.


                    • #25
                      All right! Thanks for the renewed interest!

                      To make sure everyone gets a chance to post, I'll extend things 'til this Friday. I'll post then!


                      • #26
                        cool, looking forward to it


                        • #27
                          I'll be playing a Wizened character. An inventor/accountant for the group. A jack of all trades with a dark side very close to the goblins of lore.


                          • #28
                            What the heck, I'll post here, could use some recreational writing.

                            ************************************************** *********************************

                            "It came upon a midnight clear with an old glorious song by beings like angels bending near the earth, but they weren't. I don't remember how they came to me, all I could see was that colour streaming down out from the space above and I couldn't find the will to move as a solid shape formed and I saw my own face flow down over the stardust and shadow stepping past me with a blank expression. Or maybe I was walking past it. Maybe neither of us were moving, but space between us shifted and shrunk. I don't know. But then I was in the light and It was in the fields below. It went on to live with my husband and raise my child. While I remained in that light and pulled up (or was it down) into that brilliant night."

                            "I can't say what they were. They were Vorlons and Shadows, they were the Drej, they were the Greys and the Body Snatchers. Silence and Daleks and Weeping Angels. They were things I couldn't really understand at all. I don't think they changed and when they seemed different then I never noticed, or felt it was only because I was realizing something new about them, but something which had only recently come to my attention."

                            "I can't remember all that happened in that place, or was it places, it felt like hours (and sometimes days), but when I finally took a left turn where I was told to go right, it was sixty years ahead. The daze cleared and my mind returned. I can't say I escaped. All I did was get distracted a moment and take a wrong turn and suddenly I was back here. My husband dead, that thing masquerading still as me and my child a grandparent of his own. I may just be another experiment being run. Or maybe the entire thing was an experiment, trying to see how long it would be before I found the way out of the maze and returned to the human world. Maybe they've finished with me. Or maybe they haven't."

                            "I've studied since then. They appeared like creatures out of the science fiction of your history. Maybe they saw that coming, maybe they're the future and took a trip to the past. That place(s?) only made sense while I was still there, maybe time works differently? But maybe they influenced these things. Anyway, I study, I learn to reach out from my place here using these computers. I'd say they were primitive, by they aren't. What They had weren't computers. They had buttons and displays and processes, but they weren't computers. They were an image of computers, like something a child makes to play pretend with. But still, these work the same way, functionally if not mechanically. And they let me interact with the world without needing to meet it face to face."

                            "One thing is certain, They are still here. They still take people. And they still take us back to that place when they can find us, so I learn what I can of them and I hide where they can't find me. And if I keep doing this, maybe, eventually, I might find a way to do more."

                            Free, aka Meaghan Scully, was taken in 1946 from the ranch her and her husband owned in Colorado. She finally returned 2006.

                            Her fae seeming is that of a woman with what on first glance seems to be shiny black hair, but a closer look reveals to be a starfield complete with constellations. The stars remain still as she moves and so the hair seems to map out a sky...not Earth's sky, but a sky. Her eyes are much too large and violet with no visible pupils. Her eyebrows are bald, stealing away some of her facial expressiveness and giving her a blank, staring sort of countenance. Little sparks of electricity dance across the empty air between her fingers. The air always seems to be moving just the slightest bit towards her. Her nails appear to be black, but really aren't there at all. Instead it is a simple blackness over the tops of her fingers and toes as if there were a hole there despite the feel of a finger's nail. Her skin and body seems to have a curious give to it, as if it were filled with nothing but air, or maybe not even that, and surrounded by a resilient, sensitive shell of slick rubber-like flesh. Maybe...maybe the skin of her fae seeming is yet just another container, like her Mask, something to keep the burgeoning truth of what she is(will be) hidden within.

                            Why will I make it? I have actual art of the character (not the best since the artist didn't understand what I was asking for by his own admission, but still actual art) and because she was touched by Vorlons.

                            Last edited by Thrythlind; 10-10-2014, 04:28 AM.


                            • #29
                              "Another one? Really?" Malory didn't say it, but she was thinking it loudly enough you could read it off her eyes, this is the twenty-sixth one this month. A man, vaguely Hispanic, wearing blue-on-black with a new coat of red, courtesy of three shotgun pellets to the right shoulder. She learned a long time ago to not to ask why, it made life a little easier - people with good reasons don't end up laid out on stolen workbenches in abandoned warehouses.

                              If she were anyone else, that arm would never work again. If she were anyone else, that man would have to retire from a life of petty violence. If she were anyone else, he'd probably end up sadder but wiser, his life longer but poorer. She is, unfortunately, just that damn good.

                              Wire hangers heated over a lighter, a long shard of glass, a spool of fishing line, and a heavy dose of heroin, these are the things back-alley miracles are made of.

                              "Dios mio.." Patient #26 muttered through the opiate haze.

                              "Hon, he's got nothin' to do with it."

                              Have a doktor!

                              In her Fae Mien, she looks like a stitched together ghoul-girl, pale skin and catgut scars. To the Mask, the scars turn to early wrinkles, and a nigh-literal skeletal figure with linen-white skin turns to a sickly, anorexic-looking woman. She'd be mistaken for a meth addict, given her usual surroundings, were it not for the fact that her teeth are always uncannily perfect.

                              Why will I make it, when many others won't?

                              Because I'm your white mage, and nobody, fucks, with the white mage.

                              Last edited by Dwyad; 10-10-2014, 04:11 AM.


                              • #30
                                Background/writing sample coming tonight. Just wanted to get my character sheet up, and show I was still interested in playing.