C A T C H - 2 2
Simon ventured a glance from behind the safty of the hastily erected stone wall. His body jerked violently with the impact, and Sidler cursed as he watched their newest companion slump to the ground, arrow protruding from his left eye.
Grammin began cursing in Swahili like he did when things got too stressful, and Sidler silently wished he would…
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, GRAM!!!” Heshra voiced what he had only wished a moment before. She popped the mag lock on her medicine bag ™ “Sidler, if you drag him back? I c…”
“That’s in his brain flesh, Hesh…” Kramer said, dropping down from the ledge 3o feet above. The tall, slip of a man landed with barely a thud, his form washing with echo from the magic he used to stop the fall. “There’s no healing that.”
“But I healed Sidler…” She said pulling the Redwood seed from the neon lined plastic case. It was smaller than last they’d seen it, but was still the size of child’s marble. “He was dead going on five minutes.”
“My heart stopped love…” Sidler said as he reached out with his mind, and anchored his will to the fallen man. With a simple thought the body slid back into cover. “That’s like… mostly dead. Brain is real flesh. That dead is real dead.”
“Let me just try…” She began in earnest, and the other three cut her off in unison.
“NO!!!”
She looked astonished.
“What’s the worse that could happen…”
Simon’s body drew their attention… black smoke danced all about him as he lifted a hand and pulled the arrow, eyeball, and a large chunk of brain and gore free.
It threw it’s head head back and loosed an inhuman bellow, the soul of the man that had once been their ‘Tank’ now vacant, flesh now host to some black thing pulled from the abyss. Goblin Magics.
“You -had- to ask…” Said Sidler, drawing power from his warrens, to power what ever magics he could muster…
T H E - P I T C H
Imagine…
Fantasy, and science fiction blended together into a seamless whole. Imagine the trappings of investigation horror, classic fantasy, and mystical fiction blended together against a backdrop of a classic Gibsonesque cyberpunk world. Imagine magic and technology, political agendas, and mystical convergences.
The idea is that there are 2 separate realities… One is just like ours (Or at least like ours -might- be in the year 2050), with cars, and computers, and echo-terrorists, and seed AI’s, and the sort. This is the world of men. It’s called The Quiet, and it is a world of lies, and illusion. The denizens of *The Quiet live in blissful ignorance of the wonders of magic, and meta-humanity… they don’t know about ogres, and trolls, and dragons… they only know virtual realms, and soy lattes, and better than reality players, and taxes and the porn revolution, (What ever -that- is). They know nothing of the other world…
The other world… The Vast as it is called i is a world made up of all the special places in the world that were secreted away by powerful magics ages before humanity managed to scribble it’s first paintings on the cave walls. Its a world of magic, and mystical creatures, and is plagued and blighted by the touch of man and their horrible horrible Metalcraft (Technology, which they see as a corrupt form of magic).
O U R - S T O R Y
The news and media brought the tragedy to the people in a nice neat little package. Easy to digest, they said it was a the latest of the now commonplace terror attacks. Some sort of corporate espionage gone terribly wrong. The result; several detonations would claim the lives of many men, women and children. Small yield dirty bombs, as the media claimed. The bombs left most of the area uninhabitable. Research and revenues losses for Vensill Pharmaceuticals Corp estimated at about about 2 billion credits.
That was a lie.
You were there. There were no bombs and no ‘devices’. None! No extremists that you have ever heard of that committed the frightening things that the 3 men you saw had. The bodies of the victims a myriad of traumas, but nothing to suggest high yield detonation.
Somehow it was all swept under the rug. Perhaps you called the media, to correct it. Perhaps you returned to try and investigate. What ever the case, you were turned away, or considered a crack pot… no one listened to you… or so you thought.
Then… in the night… the dark men came for you…
This game begins when you awaken from your forced slumber…
Hosted and narrated by:
Cixtian Trybe (Cixtian)
Started 04/07/16.
Scenes played: 0
License: Host License
