Summer Crossroads - DFW Metaplex

Why You Can't Trust Contractors
Session 12

Male construction worker
by Simon Harverd

So I get dragged back in to helping this group of misfits. Considering my current circumstances, not like much else to do. Supposedly trying to stop some magical cataclysm so off we go to the Tramell Crowe collection to find some oriental statue. Thankfully, there is a Starbucks on the corner to redeem the day. After some debate, in we go to find this statue and save the day, hooray, would have been OK if I could have finished my mocha soy latte.

With some dumb luck, the guy wearing the trench coat is able to get the lock open so we can all go down to the basement. After some aimless wandering, we find George at his desk. After more time waste on our part, he leaves and we search the office. With no distractions, I took charge of the situation and hacked into George’s computer. Making quick work of his password, I let everyone else know their statue is now upstairs somewhere.

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The Ambassador has no Pants
Session 11

253 katana oro

by Kakuji Inagawa

They could have fled. They are cowardly assasins. They chose to fight and, well, mostly die. With the gunfire directed our way, the one named Mustang has seen reason and begins shooting. A grazing shot to the shoulder, a bullet somewhere in my left arm – there’s really no time to worry about these things. I serve two masters – the Yakuza and the Dragon Kuzryu. Both are demanding and a broken body is hardly excuse to fail in my duties.

The ambassador is pissing his pants in the corner. Typical. We grab him and leave the whore in his room, screaming on nobody’s dime. We have more questions but this is hardly the place to do it.

I hear sirens, alarms raging in the hall. The elevator is a bit obvious so we go to the stairs. Not far before we hit something, different. The air has a cold feel to it. The half-fey calls it supernatural. I’m inclined to agree with her. She has been holding us under some sort of faerie magic veil so we can’t be seen, or so she says. I have little way of knowing and know her well enough not to trust her.

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A Matter of Honor
Session 10

253 katana oro

by Kakuji Inagawa

I am not very good with names. English names especially. There is no poetry or meaning to them. John, Frank, Bob. They roll off the tongue like water and dribble to the ground. Japanese names have strength, conviction, the presence of mountains.

Plus, if the boss needs me to visit someone, there will not be anymore social calls.

So, when I say we went to “some guys” house, it means I could care less what his name was. I wanted to know who had the audacity to use my boss’ social event for their gain.

We arrived at the tech guru’s mansion late. An ambulance was out front along with a police cruiser. The half fey, Anita, did the right thing and kept on driving. As we passed, I saw figures skirting the darkness of the side yard, headed ot the back.

We circled the block and as the car rolled to a stop I was out the door, bounding over the back neighbor’s privacy fence and on through into the target’s yard. I spotted a lookout, rather he spotted me. No matter.

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A Statue, a Yeti, and a Street Magician Walk into a Casino...

Yeti snowman

As told by Mustang

Getting the plant is supposed to be the adventure. Licking of wounds and a gentle trip home would have been nice. Of course, nice seems to be out of town, spending the winter somewhere warm and decidedly not Siberia.

The team decided to avoid further conflict and take the plant home, several people intending to come back to finish off the tentacle tree monster, and either separately or as a result of that, restore the spiritual connection back to the locals. We just need to learn some more things, get stronger, and maybe bring a howitzer or at least some C4.

Only thing is, we couldn’t really decide if it was safe to take the plant through the Nevernever. If one powerful entity there was looking for it, several others might be as well, if for no other reason than to spite or make the first owe them. So, overland travel it was.

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Lost Spirits on the Edge of Nothing
Session 8

Chaos beast

Shaman Ruskov

Early, the sun is just a muted glow in a familiar sky. It has been many years since I’ve been back to the Tree. Many years. Under all of the snow, the browning grass, the leafless shrubs, there is life, always life, even here. It struggles gainst the bitter, numbing, cold. It struggles beneath a constant crust of snow. But it is always there, always there except for where they want to go.

I pack my gear, taking just what I’ll need and pulling on the reindeer skin boots I’ve worn since the day I was bonded with Misha. She’s already up and around camp, probably hunting. She knows there’s a journey soon, she can sense it. A similar journey is what brought us together and now a group of outsiders wishes to undertake their own quest.

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Should have called Priceline

Gnome01
As told by Lucian

The first rule of Faery club is Never Make a Deal with a %@*^# Faery!
Even when you think you have the upperhand, and especially when you don’t.

After finally getting the Tlatoani monkey off our back, or Mustangand Bastion in what i can only hope was a fit of insanity, Anita agreed to an open ended contract with this Dian Cecht character from the Never Never.

Now in exchange for his Dr. McCoy act on Bastion , we’re stuck playing Daniel Boone to some forsaken wastelend in the Never Never on the other side of the world. On top of that, someone get’s to babysit his pet; Simon Harverd

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Green Gas, Pea Soup, It's All the Same

Exorcist soup

As told by Mustang

Some days, it just doesn’t pay to try to save the world. So, there was a rampaging horde of renegade meat products, a lot of darkness, and then things really got busy. When I tapped in to bleed off the energy of the Aztec ritual, using it to light up the stadium to keep people from trampling each other, I expected to get burned to a cinder, or just blasted to nothing. Not to become part of a committee. And that, kids, is why we don’t play with magic: even certain death doesn’t go as expected. Imagine being one voice of many, all arguing, vying for control of your body. Talk about frustrating. Worse, your suggestions that being the main character in a ritual sacrifice is a bad idea being lost in the maelstrom of voices, and nobody being able to get control of the body.

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Oscar Meyer-geddon
Game Recap 1-7-2012

Hotdogman1

Session Five

Oh, Quetzalcoatl, great winged serpent of the sun, boundary of the earth and sky, god of the four winds, lord of our very breath, and creator of man. I, Tlatoani beseech your forgiveness for my failures. For years I labored to free you from your earthly prison. To reach into the earth and pull your winged majesty free so you could soar again among the skies and bring death to the those that bleed your life through earthen shafts.

I have made sacrifces unto you like no other time. I pulled forth the heart of many honored men and women who screamed in terror at the mere hint of your presence. I have spilled the blood to free you even as the ignorant sacrifices lamented their role. All the while knowing that if they but could see your glory they would, like my ancestors, gladly have torn their own beating heart from their chest and laid it upon your fires.

For months I labored on the great edifice which in the material world is called “Apogee Stadum”, the blood and heart of your sacrifices made one with the structure. Built directly above your slumbering form between the sundered leylines. The final key, the ceremony of power, was to be a game in your honor where the strongest of compeitiors would have his heart removed and given up for a final sacrifice.

But alas, I have failed. I have been undone by an unholy golem of fetid flesh and a circus of lesser beings.

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Campaign Recap as of 1-7-2012

Way late posting this but I am bringing it as a handout for the game! Bryan (Mustang) has provided us with a recap that has an interesting perspective….

Somewhere in a dark room, 2 chairs sit at a table, lit by a warm fireplace. Light glimmers off of a bottle of liquor where fingers have marred the dust. A pair of crystal glasses break the light into shattered pieces of a fallen rainbow, cascading against a nearby wall. A breeze dances across the room, gently carrying a hint of aged wood.

Two people step out of the darkness, from opposite sides of the light, and after a wary evaluation, they sit down and smile at each other. Although the room stays extremely dark, neither seem to have any trouble seeing to reach for the glasses, fill them, and raise them toward each other silently. Only after the first taste, do they start to talk in low tones.

“How’s your project going?” says one, in a female voice with a middle eastern accent. As she shifts her legs, her cloak falls away from a sword hanging on her side.

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Professor Where sheds some Light

Professor where

Interlude

I wrote another quick story, actually a dialogue between Viveca and Professor Where to shed some more light on the campaign background. I believe Viveca said she called the Professor and we sort of glossed over it at the time, but it turned out there was an interesting conversation to be had, so here it is. I hope you guys don’t mind my borrowing your carefully crafted personas for some supporting fiction. I won’t do it often, only if I feel we missed soemthing that could help push the game along and get you guys more involved!

In fact, I’m doing it in part because I’d love for you guys to do the same. Writing up session logs from your character perspective would be cool (I just try to add the flavor of what I’m feeling about your PC, but only you can do it right!)

The Divergence

You can also read the Summary / Aspects about this arcane mystery in the Wiki under Denton

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