There is no 'real magic.' Certain abilities can be made analogous through science or technology. By player request, reasonable abilities can be explained through advanced, character approrpiate technologies.
The world is populated with alternative races to simply humanity, thus leaving the world in a semi-magical state. There are varied degrees of racial biggotry between the races. Recent events have put certain groups on edge against each other as a plague has sprung up around the port areas. News had been stifled from overseas ports of apparent outbreaks, but the internet has been rampant with rumors.
Characters:
Level: 3; Any applicable race. Begin with 2 feats at first level, 3 if human. Present appropriate background information - upbringing, occupation, notable life experiences. Also, major associations. (whether with the lower, middle, or upper classes)
Firearms from Ultramodern Firearms. Melee from d20 Modern/Urban Arcana; armor from the same.
Include basic equipment. Simple weaponry (anything that does not require a liscence to possess) may be included, but anything else must be placed in a separate list to be deemed approrpiate/inappropriate.
You were born into a world of wonder. Throughout history humanity has shared the limelight of 'most-advanced-species' will all manner of, what would otherwise be consdired mythical, beings.
You find yourselves in a small diner, H.L.'s Kitchen, in Emberton, a small suburb of the Seattle-esque port city of Brimston. It is neither the upper-class streets and skyscrapers of the Pyre Quarter or the grunge of Cinderville - coloquially refered to as the asshole of hell. The diner is hardly notable, next to the superway that travels through the heart of Brimston, it is a frequent stop for all manner of passers-through - truckers, traveling workers, and people who don't want to be seen.
The night is no more notable. It seems quiet, but not empty. People scurry about. Waitresses taking orders, a drunk man sitting outside, passed out and covered in what you expect is his own vomit. You were brought here for other reasons.
The TV is blaring in the background, perched in a high corner of the diner. Reports of reports. Stifled reports from overseas. Dismissal of accusitions of disease outbreaks. Of shipping vessels carrying such outbreaks. There isn't anything useful in their words. What sounds like knee-jerk biggotry. The ticker along the bottom of the screen reads about another gnome child, beaten by the other children at school for whatever childish reason. A story is primed about a criminal case against a Drow adolecent, with a short blurb about 'racial dispositions' and what-not. The commercials are even more worthless.
Listen check DC 20 - you hear from a corner booth "The fucking TV doesn't tell any truth anymore. It's all celebrity bullshit or equally useless tripe. The internet, though. That is where the news is. Those strange outbreaks of rabbies - people with rabbies - in port cities in all the developed countr-" "Shut up, Earl, no one wants to eat through your conspiracy theories." "You'll see, I'm right." "Shut the fuck up and eat. We gotta get back on the road."
[Let them RP for awhile. And then at some more-or-less intense point have a Goblin Yakuza drive-by.] [Bartender is Self-Destructive (Smoker), Stutters, Has a Limp, Waitress is Jumpy, Smells good (perfume), and is well mannered.]
For #at### - You've trailed a mark to this diner. You don't have confirmation other than that they have an unusual birthmark on the left side of their face. You haven't been able to gather more information, with how quickly a location fell into your opportunities. DC 25 spot (after a bit of RP only) spots the mark. Just a regular joe by general note, except for a birthmark.
~~~~~
And I need to re-read Death Knell and all those other fun little pieces of falling doom. Maybe I need the doom.
Cut the string. Sever everything and disappear? Would that be a good plan? Some things sound mighty interesting, but I'd have to give up on damn near everything else...
The world is populated with alternative races to simply humanity, thus leaving the world in a semi-magical state. There are varied degrees of racial biggotry between the races. Recent events have put certain groups on edge against each other as a plague has sprung up around the port areas. News had been stifled from overseas ports of apparent outbreaks, but the internet has been rampant with rumors.
Characters:
Level: 3; Any applicable race. Begin with 2 feats at first level, 3 if human. Present appropriate background information - upbringing, occupation, notable life experiences. Also, major associations. (whether with the lower, middle, or upper classes)
Firearms from Ultramodern Firearms. Melee from d20 Modern/Urban Arcana; armor from the same.
Include basic equipment. Simple weaponry (anything that does not require a liscence to possess) may be included, but anything else must be placed in a separate list to be deemed approrpiate/inappropriate.
You were born into a world of wonder. Throughout history humanity has shared the limelight of 'most-advanced-species' will all manner of, what would otherwise be consdired mythical, beings.
You find yourselves in a small diner, H.L.'s Kitchen, in Emberton, a small suburb of the Seattle-esque port city of Brimston. It is neither the upper-class streets and skyscrapers of the Pyre Quarter or the grunge of Cinderville - coloquially refered to as the asshole of hell. The diner is hardly notable, next to the superway that travels through the heart of Brimston, it is a frequent stop for all manner of passers-through - truckers, traveling workers, and people who don't want to be seen.
The night is no more notable. It seems quiet, but not empty. People scurry about. Waitresses taking orders, a drunk man sitting outside, passed out and covered in what you expect is his own vomit. You were brought here for other reasons.
The TV is blaring in the background, perched in a high corner of the diner. Reports of reports. Stifled reports from overseas. Dismissal of accusitions of disease outbreaks. Of shipping vessels carrying such outbreaks. There isn't anything useful in their words. What sounds like knee-jerk biggotry. The ticker along the bottom of the screen reads about another gnome child, beaten by the other children at school for whatever childish reason. A story is primed about a criminal case against a Drow adolecent, with a short blurb about 'racial dispositions' and what-not. The commercials are even more worthless.
Listen check DC 20 - you hear from a corner booth "The fucking TV doesn't tell any truth anymore. It's all celebrity bullshit or equally useless tripe. The internet, though. That is where the news is. Those strange outbreaks of rabbies - people with rabbies - in port cities in all the developed countr-" "Shut up, Earl, no one wants to eat through your conspiracy theories." "You'll see, I'm right." "Shut the fuck up and eat. We gotta get back on the road."
[Let them RP for awhile. And then at some more-or-less intense point have a Goblin Yakuza drive-by.] [Bartender is Self-Destructive (Smoker), Stutters, Has a Limp, Waitress is Jumpy, Smells good (perfume), and is well mannered.]
For #at### - You've trailed a mark to this diner. You don't have confirmation other than that they have an unusual birthmark on the left side of their face. You haven't been able to gather more information, with how quickly a location fell into your opportunities. DC 25 spot (after a bit of RP only) spots the mark. Just a regular joe by general note, except for a birthmark.
~~~~~
And I need to re-read Death Knell and all those other fun little pieces of falling doom. Maybe I need the doom.
Cut the string. Sever everything and disappear? Would that be a good plan? Some things sound mighty interesting, but I'd have to give up on damn near everything else...
stem:
i wanna play 