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Demon: The Fallen a white wolf RPG Anonymous 08/09/2021 (Mon) 06:30:32 Id: 1ffe9d No. 431
Okay so I wanna run a demon campaign. Whether we start with one guy and eventually gain more, or instead wind up with a one on one personal experience is whatever to me. Either way sounds good. I have done both, and White wolf makes single player experiences relatively fun and easy. Your character, should you choose to make one and join, will be a Demon, a fallen angel. One of Gods own who turned and rebelled. After an unfathomable time spent in hell you escape. And find yourself in the late nineties. Where God appears to have long left his creation, and there are no angels to be seen. Left with no means of answering the only questions you still had, you turn to a personal philosophy to make life meaningful, and continue on in the possessed body you have stolen. We shall, depending on the backstory of your character, have antagonists, and vices. The monster within is the usual pretext to pretty much every WW gameline. And this is no exception. Morality is tracked quite a bit more than say DnD. Anyway if you are interested drop a post here, and we will see about getting you a corebook, and then walking you through character creation. Afterwards we can have the first session here. This site supports die rolls, and miniatures and graph paper are never really seen during a WW rpg anyway. If for whatever reason we do find them necessary I have backups for that possibility as well.
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>>431 Broad story outline. Vegas by night. Sin city through demonic eyes. Anons you can start a desert cult, become a performer, hitman, join the mafia, cardshark, pimp, or policeman. Options are unlimited and the story will be a personal one.
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>>432 >90s vegas >fallen angel Wow, that was more unique than I was expecting. Mark me down as a demon who escaped hell-prison and refuses to go back, but regrets the crimes he commited and wants to do better with his newfound freedom. "I ain't going back to hell, but I ain't serving Satan no more either." Since possession seems to be a necessity for a fallen angel to be on Earth, there should be a venom-esque relationship between the host human and the parasitic demon. Could make for a great dynamic. I'm going to bed now, but give me a time you'll be on raring to go and I'll be there if I can.
Edited last time by bajabronze on 08/09/2021 (Mon) 06:54:04.
>>433 Cool yeah. How you view your time in hell is important. Some come out and wanna fix the world. Some wanna burn it. As far as lucifer goes he wasn't in hell. Even his most loyal followers curse his name now. Hard to say wether he was always God's pawn, or he made a side deal. Either way he wasn't there. And that's a sore point for most demons. And yeah the host/parasite dynamic is an important function of the game. Uh time. Idk I'm about to go to sleep. Say 12 hours from now? I'll probably be awake and shitposting by then.
In the beginning there was God. All else was a formless void. He created the heavens and the earth. He created servants to administer to this land. He made animals, and fish. And it was good. The greatest of his servants was Lucifer. The lightbringer. And this was also good. But then God decided to make man. The most perfect of creations. Unlike his servant angels, man would have free will, and also the Godlike ability to imagine and create. But this was not good. Man did not achieve what he should have. He did not use his mind to create. He huddled in caves, without language or writing. And this could not be as God had intended. So the angels gathered together to discuss what had gone wrong. God heard of this and sent the metatron with a message. Any Angel who questioned this could speak with God, and he would answer any question. Two of the bravest angels nodded upon hearing this news and immediately went forth to question God. They were never seen again. Soon others went to Him, and they too did not come back. At this point the greatest speaker in the gathering was Lucifer, and he decided that God had turned on them, and man. "This is a test" he said "a test of angels. God has given us the tools to enlighten man, his intention is obvious." And so a third of the heavenly host descended with him unto the earth, and there they gave mankind language, law, architecture, the art of fire, and the art of weapon making. And it was good. Mankind prospered. He built roads, and cities. He finally was achieving his potential. God's greatest experiment was fixed. Or so it appeared. But this displeased God, and so he sent the other two thirds of his host to destroy mankind. Lucifer's band took issue with seeing the men and women they loved murdered. And so a war took place. It lasted about a thousand years. In the end the rebels were lined up, surrounded by the loyalists, and judged one by one. After the judgment had been pronounced they were thrown into a hole in space. An endless abyss. A formless void. Into this pit one by one the rebels went. Until only Lucifer and his top lieutenant remained. Eventually Azrael (as he was so named) was led to the abyss. As he fell he looked upward towards his general, and saw Lucifers hand come up to shake that of God's, and the hole in space disappeared. Trapped in nothing, unable to see or communicate. This abyss was home to the rebels for time uncountable. One day you heard a voice. Straining your unused ears you desperately tried to listen. Was it Lucifer? No. You have never met the speaker. It is a mortal, and he is praying to God. But the words reach only you for whatever reason. And you hear pain, such as you thought to have eliminated, doubt which you know you purged. God had wrecked it all apparently, and then decided not to even stick around to hear the wailing. Your rage swelled, but this wasn't the moment of escape. That was still millenium out. But that day did come. A storm came to the void. A primordial storm composed of chaos itself. Anything caught in it would be torn to constituent atoms. Not even you could survive such a thing, but more importantly the fabric of the abyss could not withstand the storm either. A hole to the spiritual realm is seen within the storm. And from there it was always a quick skip to reality. You shook your wings in the abyss, and soared upward. The wind pulling at you, the storm trying to unmake you. But not today. Today your will to return to the earth and redeem yourself is stronger than all of primordial chaos. Weakened you emerge into a faithless world. You feel your form begin collapsing already. You sense a soul in trouble. Already leaving it's body, someone in incredible torment, you know the feeling. Like a moth to flame you are drawn. And see a disheveled looking man, worn and stained clothing. He has a needle in his arm, and a note beside him. He lies on a couch in a filthy apartment. But you have eyes only for him. This host will allow you to remain in reality as weak as you are, and even without faith in yourself you could exist. Good enough. So you delve into the body, displace the soul, and make yourself at home. Within minutes you have cleansed his blood of poison, and drawn your first breath. His/your color returns, and soon you can stand. Then there is a long and triumphant laugh. Whether God tore a hole in your jail, or the world is simply falling apart unsupervised you cannot say, but finally after aeons you are free.
Max wasn't having a very good day. Max was a white, defrocked priest, with a drug problem. Max liked to help people, but it never seemed to turn out right. He had taken in a homeless women the night before, she wasn't there in morning, and neither was the envelope full of cash for rent. Due tomorrow. He had been dismissed from the priesthood for refusing to give the alms or donations he received to his bishop. Instead Max would distribute the alms to the poor in his own neighborhood. Sometimes he would buy and cook food for a homeless encampment. The bishop didn't care. He just wanted his cut. And so Max lost the only job he cared for. And now Max is broke, jobless, soon to be evicted, and to top it off his faith in a loving and caring God is slipping. So Max bought some black tar heroin with the little money he had left, and shot it all into his arm while praying the rosary. He was tired of life, and was no longer certain there was any point. As the poison crawled through his veins, robbing them of the little life left in Max, he turns his head slightly and considers his note I, Max Smith, of the northern vegas outreach program do hereby end my life. Do not resuscitate me. Let me die. And tell Lizzy I'm sorry. He wonders if he should have written more, but the opioids have reached his brain, and he is now far too relaxed to even move. Soon he forgets how to breathe, and in different world this would be the end. But this is not the end for Max. He hears a voice, bitter, angry, powerful. The voice says two words "Good enough" And then Max feels someone else inside his head. He feels the heroin burn itself out of his blood. And suddenly his hand is moving, but he isn't moving it.
>>435 >Lucifer. The lightbringer. For the enlightenment of any anons perusing: https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/who-or-what-was-lucifer Lucifer is figurative language for a prideful babylonian king in the actual Bible, but it has also been used as a nickname for Satan, mocking his own pridefulness. As for what it means in this biblical fanfiction, that's up to the OP :) Cool intro btw OP. You may want to get yourself a tripcode in case your ID changes so people know you're the one posting.
Edited last time by bajabronze on 08/09/2021 (Mon) 19:27:12.
So you are Max/Tazriel Don't tell anyone your true demonic name. They will have complete power over you if you do. As a redeemer you feel obligated to fix the world. You feel this is your purpose, and perhaps you can reunite with God if you can only redeem yourself. You need faith. People must believe in you. Only then can you access your power. You have control over fire, and can reveal your true angelic form. Both require faith though. As is right now you could still probably junk a car with your bare hands, and have no special reason to fear a fight with any mortal. All that being said the next action is in your hands. So without further ado, the words that have launched every RPG I ever ran. What do you do?
>>437 Yeah. The lore conflates Lucifer with Satan. And so we are going with that. Tripcode. Uh. Howto tripcode?
>>439 https://8chan.moe/.static/pages/posting.html I should probably add a "how to tripcode" section to the QTDDTOT thread.
>>440 Ahh I see. Thank you. Also the meta reason for Lucy getting off Scott free is because the writers needed him to fuck around with the vampire and mage gamelines. In game the lore reason is because not punishing him was the worst thing God could do. His pride demands that he be punished worst of all, but instead he alone isn't punished at all. Kinda weird but whatever we will go with it.
>>441 I'll leave the wdyd to other anons unless none come by in a day or so. Have fun man, we already got another poster today!
>>442 I saw that! Yeah that codexx plug is paying off. Yeah no rush. I haven't read the corebook in like 20 years. I appreciate being given some time to look through it again.
>>438 The only condition is that people believe in YOU, they don't need to know your true name. So, what you do is insert yourself in society as a person that is believed in. Politicians with an uplifting message, cult leaders, CEOs who act benevolently, or simply as a friend to someone. The easiest thing would be to start a gang by beating the shit out of an existing one with your bare hands and getting others with you to bust criminal gangs. You would need to take point in every conflict as your gang's protector, save people. Shit you could literally just try being a fucking dumbass superhero in a costume while you're getting results, act as an icon so they believe in you, though if someone believing in your second identity is a bar to your powers you could just ditch the outfit and go plainclothes as yourself. You could also insert yourself in a police station by easily passing all their exams, then working your way towards police commissioner/chief. People in leadership positions run off of faith, so basically you would have to be the leader of SOMETHING that aligns with your goals. You'd definitely need human friends too.
>>444 Lol whoops, I unlinked your image and (seemingly) can't relink it. Feel free to repost it, I had an "ooh what dis button do" moment. As for obtaining a leadership position for faith powerups, I absolutely agree.
Edited last time by bajabronze on 08/09/2021 (Mon) 21:33:09.
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>>445 >>444 k lol
>>444 If someone has your real name they can speak to you across any distance. Scry on you. See everything you do, and command you completely. Been a while since I read the exact section but I believe you can even be unmade with your name. I am not entirely sure. Will double check, but yeah just use a fake name. As for the rest yep. You get it. The player has a wide variety of options available to him.
>>447 Since >>446 anon hasn't replied, I'll keep the story going. Let's get to know this "Max Smith" and see who he has contacts with. He got that black tar heroin from somewhere.
>>448 I have some thoughts on that, but hes your character now so I pass final say to you. Both those were first person narratives with unreliable narrators. Err. Well actually they may have been in the third person. Anyway the demon was drawn to max because they are the same. Good guys who broke some rules to help people? Well no, that's a story they are telling themselves. No one lies to you like you do. The angel rebellion quickly took to masquerading as Gods in their own right, demanding human sacrifice, and eventually using them, and these nascent cities as human shields against loyalist angels. Several of whom were sentenced to the abyss in the end. They killed hundreds of humans to reach a single rebel angel. It lasted like a thousand years. It got really brutal and savage. Then there's Max. He tells you he has a drug problem. Now he says it in a way to indicate this may just be a way of referring to his imminent death, but no he's straight up. He was robbing the church to buy heroin. Hes had the problem for a while. The "homeless girl" who robbed him is his junky girlfriend Lizzy. Hence the line in the note. You see? They are the same. Liars. Good people maybe, but still dishonest individuals. Anyway Jakes got the stuff, hes up in a north vegas homeless encampment. A shanty town out where the town quits, and the desert starts. All this you the PC know just by inhabiting Max's mind. You two can't lie to each other. You each see the truth. You can act out some angst here in the apartment. Or describe an internal monlogue while leaving his shit apartment and walking north. Or anything really. But the choice is yours.
>>449 Vampyr, you forgot your tripcode
>>450 Oh. I always forget to take it off. And put it on.
>>451 >Vampyr#HBV5Cz >Vampyr##MFAD2y Sus
>>452 I added two hashes. Your thing said it makes it Double Secure. Maybe. Okay I didn't read it so much as skim it. Heres with one hash.
Maybe I was vague. You control a character, so you know. Control him. The fuck does he do?
>>454 Seek out Max's dealer. I want some anon, any anon to decide what to do with the dealer once we get there.
>>455 Yeah that's probably a good idea.
A flood of memories hits you like a slug of whisky. Feelings you have never experienced. Being touched, love, companionship. These are alien concepts til this moment, and the shock almost stops your new heart. It's a full thirty minutes of sitting on the couch before you feel ready to acknowledge the outside world exists. And then Max starts bitching in your head about how you ruined his high, and you should hit up his dealer for more. You aren't in the habit of poisoning yourself, but decide to go along with the plan for now. Remembering where Max stashed his wallet, shoes, and jacket takes a second, but soon you feel equipped for the world you haven't seen since it was young. A quiet murmuring of disquiet turns out to be Max in your head bitching about being defenseless. He still doesn't understand. Still you go to his kitchen and grab a large chef's knife, wrap the blade in a handkerchief and shove it in the back of your belt. The handle hidden by your jacket. The place needs to be cleaned, but later. In moments you have passed the junkies in the hall and excited into the 100 degree heat of Las Vegas in summer. The glare is tremendous. Max's memories tell you of a thing called sunglasses. You silently vow to look into this sooner than later. You turn away from the sun and start walking north. The glitzier elements of the Vegas strip soon behind you. Now the road is surrounded by low homes, apartment blocks,and the shadier businesses they keep from the tourists. All too soon these have been left behind as well, and out past the desert sands you see the shanty town Max told you of. A few depressed looking individuals in clothing worse than your own nod as you pass. One man calls out hello preacher. Soon you see the army surplus tent used by Max's pusher. You rap your knuckles on the outside. The cloth barely making a sound, but the motion apparently was enough to announce yourself, as the front unzips and an angry looking man steps out to stare you down. Recognition flickers in his eyes, and a predators smile takes hold of his face.
>>457 Politely tell him you're confiscating all of his drugs, and that you'll beat his ass senseless if he gets in your way.
>>458 Not all physical sensation is welcome. Walking in the midday hundred fifteen vegas sun has let you experience the discomfort of overheat. You find this fragile flesh very damp. It is unpleasant, and the stupid kitchen knife keeps jabbing you in the back. "Step back in the tent Jake, lets talk business" You commandingly state as you step in the tent. Jake feeling understandably protective follows you. Inside the light becomes suffused through plastic, and is far less harsh on your eyes. Though the space is cramped. Impatient with this charade already you get to the point "Jake I'm taking your entire stash, and trying to hold out on me will get your face rearranged, do you understand me?" A look of puzzlement flashes across his features before panic sets in and he starts to reach with his right hand towards his hoodie pocket. You laugh as you backhand him. Teeth fly, and Jake sags towards a rendezvous with the floor, it's gonna be late though, because your other hand has balled up his t-shirt and is currently holding him up. "Oh save the theatrics for someone who gives a shit" you blurt, and then slap him again for good measure. "Muh Fuggin Teef!" Jakes manages to slur in between drooling blood on the floor, and searching for his teeth. You take out your knife and clean the handle "trade ya" you tell him as you grab the gun and put it inside your waistband in the small of your back, flipping your shirt over the handle before kneeling next to Jake. "You know your drugs? They're mine now, anyone has a problem with it you tell em that Father Max took em, and fuck them too" Then you start searching the tight quarters. Jake's whimpering helps, and it only takes you a few minutes to find his stash. Already bagged up small folded paper squares of heroin. A couple freezer bags worth. You find a backpack and stick them in there. Jake mostly cries but sometimes shoots you a look of fear. You missed that. So you go. Why the fuck not? Of course Max can think of a million reasons to stick around. Jake has his own works, and spare needles too. Max mentions this a couple times. Six blocks and the two hundredth time Max brings it up you start getting sick of it.
>>458 Sorry for the delay. I had at least three versions of this I hated too much to post. Heres the last revision I threw out before going with what we got. Provided for curiosity sake. Not all physical sensation is welcome. Walking in the midday hundred fifteen vegas sun has let you experience the discomfort of overheat. You find this fragile flesh very damp. It is unpleasant, and the stupid kitchen knife keeps jabbing you in the back. "Step back in the tent Jake, lets talk business" You commandingly state as you step in the tent. Jake feeling understandably protective follows you. Inside the light becomes suffused through plastic, and is far less harsh on your eyes. Though the space is cramped. Impatient with this charade already you get to the point "Jake I'm taking your entire stash, and trying to hold out on me will get your face rearranged, do you understand me?" A look of puzzlement flashes across his features before panic sets in and he starts to reach with his right hand towards his hoodie pocket. You laugh as you backhand him. There is a sharp CRACK sound, and he slumps backwards. You check his pocket and find a small revolver. You dig out your knife and toss it on the floor,and pocket his .22 You clean the knife with the handkerchief and place it in his hand. You dig around and find individually bagged grams of heroin. Close to a hundred. Max is giddy, more than he would have thought. You see if you killed him. Yeah. His neck is broken. And he is twitching. You decide its time to leave. Smoothly stepping outside zip the door closed behind you, and then start striding towards the entrance.
>>459 Go find Lizzy.
>>460 yeah, >>459 is definitely the better of the two, it's even the first trip of this board. >>461 What's 'ol Tazzy gonna do when he finds Lizzy though? What do you have planned for her, torposter?
Edited last time by bajabronze on 08/19/2021 (Thu) 04:42:10.
>>461 Max really wants the heroin. Too bad it stays in the pack, but a distraction is called for. He's driving you mad. So you ask about his rent. Seems reasonable. Sooner or later you were gonna have to deal with it anyway, and you ask about this homeless chick he trusts in his apartment. So he says her name. Lizzy And you experience an emotion you haven't felt since you last saw God's face. Love. You recall moments between her and Max, and you vicariously taste a physical kiss, God never gave you that. And you end up walking a block in total quiet. So he loves her, and she has our rent, fucking great. No that's not the whole thing, YOU love her now. "So why aren't we talking to her?" You ask aloud, and Max has no answer. So you wonder where she is, and he lights up your mind with her daily routine. Right now shes probably over by the Wal-Mart spanging for change. And just like that you change where you are walking to. Of course this pedestrian shit is starting to get old, and more importantly hot. But in an hour and a half you find the parking lot, and sure enough theres a petite blonde, dirty hair and clothes, acne covered skin, and shes talking to someone through a truck window when you see her. Her back is turned, and Max says give it a minute. The smell of her is unpleasant, but with Max's memories acting in conjunction with those scents you feel higher than any heroin ever made Max. So you wait, a tight half smile on your face. She finishes her conversation, pockets a bit of paper cash, and turns back to the stop sign her bag waits by. She sees us, and she doesn't look happy. She's already grabbed her bag and is getting ready to leave when you walk up. "Hey Liz" you get out over the light headedness "Look it's gone okay? I just needed to get straight after all your depressing bullshit Max, so yes I took it, and yes it's gone okay?"
>>463 Tell her you're not there for the money. Since she's a junkie too, maybe cure her? I dunno, I ain't no simp. :^)
This isn't what you wanted. This defensiveness, and anger. It makes her face twist up, it makes her ugly. And that hurts you. "Fuck the money Liz, I don't care about it" "What?" "No seriously fuck the money, Liz I just want you to come home. Nothing else matters to me" "You're different" she whispers almost to herself "Yesterday you were on your major downer again, and I'm sick of hearing it Max" shes getting defensive again you note, and decide to tackle Max's relationship head on "That was yesterday Liz, today I just want to be together with you, and if it bothers you I won't be talking about sad things" She purses her lip and glances around aimlessly. She appears to be considering things. "And what about the rent?" She finally looks you in the eye. She looks ready to cry. "Fuck it Liz, with you by my side it doesn't matter. I'd be happy in fucking tent city, just please come home with me." Begging has always been beneath you, and yet here you are. Love is dangerous. "O-okay" she says. Her eyes holding yours. "You aren't mad?"
>>465 A pro-tip for you is to prompt potential things to happen next, for example: >take Liz home >stop for a bite on the way >write-in Gives uncreative people choices while leaving an out for creatives. Keep writing, bro :)
>>466 Yeah I just feel ackward putting any words in a PCs mouth. Or making him do any actions, but the nature of posting here makes having conversation in character difficult. I pretty much have to write your dialogue. Well such is life. Anyway prompt wise she seems fucking awful. Shes a junkie that already robbed you once. The only reason Taz likes her is hes been an incel for like eternity. Well anyway promptwise... Tell her no you arent angry, and lets go fuck. Jake knows where you live and you really just pissed him off, maybe finding more ammo or not taking Liz back there is a good idea.
>>467 Go back to the apartment with Liz, grab whatever useful things can be carried and GTFO. Taz can sell the heroin for cash if he has to, though morally I'm against it.
"No, but we need to go Liz" you say, and start walking toward your apartment block Pausing to grab her bag, Liz quickly hurries to catch up "Why Max?" She asks "Because we need to lie low for a bit" "Max is this more bullshit about your old job?" Her taking an aggresive tone "No, my new one" turning your head and slowing so your walking side by side "so stay with me, trust me okay?" "Max when did you get so confident and optimistic? I want to believe you..." She is starting to pout, in your head Max starts talking about banging some more junk down your recently renewed veins, and theres the apartment building half a block away. As much as you love your new freedom, and sensation itself is a balm for your torment, but fuck if you aren't distracted walking in the lobby, and so don't notice the two rough looking Slavic gentlemen chainsmoking near the upturned aluminium ashtray. When Liz is yanked out of your hands is when your attention snaps back to the present. Turning you see one holding her while the other breaks a baseball bat in your mid section. Pain is not a new sensation. You still see red and fade out for a few seconds, bent over on the hard concrete. You straighten coughing blood as the rest of the hand bounces of your forehead. You think there's some shouting, Liz' among them, but again you are distracted. You loved someone once before Liz, and the loss of that love almost drove you mad on countless occasions. Before the abyss weakened you heard nothing, and weaker seraphim heard nothing even then. The madness of nothing but themselves. A solipsistic nightmare. And so Taz is understandably piss to be threatened with that again. Your bones knit themselves anew as Liz', Max, Jake, and now these thugs belief in you fills you with a fraction of your old power. "Fuck this" you wisper as you reveal yourself. Allowing your true self to stand as real as if he had never left the corporeal plane. A strongly muscled Apollo now stands wreathed in flame. Your skin is raw and red, scorched by a burning inferno now spreading beyond your tortured frame, a flaming sword in your right hand. You grab the goon closest you with one hand and hold him aloft, he catches flame and begins to start screaming and kicking. Your hold is too strong though, and so you turn and focus on the second guy holding Liz. "Release Her Immediately" Spoken with a voice haggard and deep, but with an authority nearly no mortal could resist. So he does, and Liz runs out the door. Dropping the dead and scorched man you approach the cowering and whimpering second assailant. His cheeks are streaming with tears, the image sticks with you for a while of that, but you never were one for hesitation in the war either, slashing him in two. Both halfs scorched shut instantly in a flash of steamed blood, they fall to the floor and begin burning as well.
>>469 Your wings are rings in halos of fire, the bare bones peaking through in places, but bear you up as soar through the doors to the outside. You see liz and descend like a shining meteor in the failing sunlight. "Stop" You command, and land and blocking her path in ratty parking lot, cracked pavement with shoots of sage brush breaking through is the norm, but it still is shocking to Liz when the pavement begins splitting and smoking beneath you, or maybe she just can't look you directly in the eye. Yours shine like twin suns. This self reflective moment is persuasive enough to withdraw back inside Max' body. It appears as it was when you last thought about it. Reality was ever a matter of your perspective. Several sections of the galaxy were given to you to build. Still you forget these mortal limitations, and he still is standing in melting tar, and three of the ribs are still broken. You dance aside and then double over spitting a tooth and more blood. This Liz can process and runs to you. Taking of your backpack and lifting your shirt. Her expectations work against your healing. And so with merely a cracked rib on the left side you feel much better on the whole.
>>470 *Ringed Not rings
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>>472 Damn, that's crazy. Didn't expect outright killing so soon, but aight. Now you definitely need to get out of dodge.
Edited last time by bajabronze on 08/24/2021 (Tue) 19:24:20.
>>473 Taz is a little over protective.
>>474 I imagine most folks would be if they felt love for the first time in heaven knows how long.
>>475 As an aside. The first edition of Demon, which is what we are using, used a fairly normal Christian tradition as its basis for lore, but there are some obvious diversions. In short the world, reality, is presented as operating under a set of rules. These angels are completely without inagination, that is the biggest difference between them and God, or humans. The second version (nwod, or New World Of Darkness, wod2.0) treats the universe as a computer simulation. Angels as daemons, programs able to act only in very specific ways. God as the ultimate programmer. And the reason for weird kludges such as the crucifixion or circumcision is well that they were kludges, hacks, God will for whatever reason only work within the framework of the universe as HE made it. These roots are relevant because they are present in this corebook as well. So whenever possible I treat Taz as a very simply as possible in regards to outside stimuli. He just acts, he doesn't really pause to think or consider his actions, a hint of why he probably was in hell. The appearance works on a 1-10 scale called a torment meter. At the theoretical one you are redeemed. Purely angelic in appearance, and savable by God through the apocalypse supplements, for when the world ends on Dec 31 1999. Yeah this is all old stuff. Anyway at a 10 you basically look like the grim reaper, mr skeleton man with blue flames for eyes. In between the torment you suffer for your own actions is reflected by the flames burning you. The more burned the worse you feel, the more you have to atone for. At level 1 you couldn't leave an innocent in danger without helping or you would automatically go up a level to torment 2. In a real RP session you would of course be in complete control and all these rules would be 100% actually used. As it is I'm reflecting the average new character starting around 6 torment, and wanting to use his apocalypse form as soon as possible, because its half of character creation, and new players usually wanna use it asap. The first one always looks like a spergout when you type up the campaign into a real story later using notes taken while playing. Something I always did to help players understand the epicness of PnP rpgs. And get them coming back. This has been behind the scenes with your host vamp
>>476 Thank you Vampyr, very cool.
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>>473 "WHAT THE FUCK MAX!" Liz seems pissed off, Max is no help. He just started mumbling, but surprising as it might be for either one of them to hear, Taz just doesn't have fucking time for this shit, he'd picked up a lot on society from prayers heard in the Abyss, and Max's mind filled in the rest. Cops were bad news. "It's fine Liz, just help me up" proffering his hand to her, Lis takes it and straightening up soon sees them both standing again. Max's dirty and stained clerical shirt, black, the same as his pants and Liz' top stand as a stark backdrop to the rising flames, now engulfing most of the apartment building, an inferno to match your mood. She slides in closer, less to help you around then for protection. "Shit it's really going up Max... Good thing I grabbed my toothbrush this morning. We can share I guess" She turns from the fire and looks you square in the eyes. "Max what the fuck is happening?" "No time babe, just trust me. We gotta boogie." "Fuck" she turns towards the darkness "We'll need a car" Which is a good point. Anyone escaping vegas on foot won't get too far. It's desert for hundreds of miles. "I have thoughts on that" Taz speaks through a smile. Max asks how? Did people mention the specifics of hot wiring a car in prayers to HELL? Taz rolls their eyes. Max always thinks he's so clever, so sarcastic about everything Taz does, but Max never sees the obvious. They need wheels, cash, and anonymity. So grab it. "Wait here Liz" "Max? Whats going on?" She queried. Hefting the backpack onto one shoulder over her own pack. You ignore this and move to the curb. Theres a crowd of residents and on lookers gathered around the building fire. The department still hadn't shown up and someone or someones were screaming in there. He listened for the DING DING DING Keys left in car alert. Hearing it and seeing an old chevy lumina with the drivers door slightly ajar, the dome lights showing a crack of light on the asphalt. That was harder to see with the brilliance of the fire, but hey seeing through flames never botherd you before. You see a man three steps away with his hands on his head, he appears to be crying. Moving quickly you open the door and sit down, turning the key as you do in one fluid motion. The man turns as the engine starts and the car door closes behind you. "What?" He sobs at you, you turn on the brights and cut the wheel to the side, generously apply gas, and lean into the turn. You straighten out on the street heading toward liz, you flash the brights and brake sharply by her, she tries the door and it's locked, shes yelling by the way, you hate when shes upset. Max screams at you try the door, and there are a lot of prayers from people dying in car crashes that were also pretty explicit on how to unlock doors, well before they start praying about burning first anyway. Taz leans over to the passenger seat and manually undoes the door lock. The pistol is digging into your back. You take it out to hand to Liz when crybaby catches up. You hear the car door open and someone grabs your shirt. "Max!" Liz screams, like a broken record. You just gun the engine. You feel the man lean into the doorwell, the pressure on your right is relieved as he reaches in pocket of his hoodie, he turns to face you. And his head jerks to the side as a .38 rips into it from the side. "FUCKING WATCH THE ROAD MAX JESUS CHRIST" The name makes you scream yourself in agony as you push the corpse out of the door and look at the road, swerving to avoid a Lexus you pull back into your own lane, and close the car door. "Buckle up babe, we really need to get the fuck out of town." You turn and see her staring at the revolver in her hands. She seems to be in shock, and should really take her finger off the trigger if shes going to point it at herself. Max rolls his own eyes and moves his body again, never having felt resistance til now Tax wasn't prepared for it. Max slaps the wheel gun out of her hands. "Liz theres fucking kilos of Tar in my backpack" That got her attention "Max What the fuck did you do tonight?"
Soon the lights of Vegas fade as the road turns to a single lane going each way, and the talking is still going on. Liz has a million questions, and Taz has no more room to stall. Max's little outburst earlier has her still clutching the other backpack on her side of the car. You got the revolver back though. That's a good place to pause today. For prompts idk. You gotta give some kinda talk to Liz. Also I don't like that she has the dope. Did we really just turn grand theft auto into a homocide? That escalated quickly. Now we are headed on 50 going east. The loneliest road in america. Unlikely to see another soul, but if someone knows we are running. Like the cops. There will be aircraft looking. Planes most likely. They already use them to check for speeders. So the other nice thing about this road is you are unlikely to see another driver ever. And there are abandoned old timey cowboy towns where no one lives. So short term chilling in such a place might be a good idea. Long term there is no water and you will die. Going back is a terrible idea.
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>>479 Must've driven a long ass fucking way to get to 50 from Las Vegas, lol: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U.S._Route_50_in_Nevada We could head on back to Yucca Mountain for the shits and giggles of it. Nuclear-powered demonry sounds awfully dangerous to me.
>>481 Shit. Damn you geography. Hmm. Well whats that road leading east from Vegas? Cause I guess thats what we're on.
>>482 Okay looking at my road map shows us15 heading towards mesquite as the road I want. Sorry folks
>>483 Based writefag retconning his story to be more accurate
After an hour of driving you turn off onto a dirt road. Theres a cattleguard you drive over. You drive another ten minutes before pulling over. The clock says its 9 PM. And then you start talking, you describe the war in heaven, your fall, and eventually work your way towards Max. "Is he still alive?" Liz asks at that point. "Yes, and he still loves you, and so do I" you respond She takes some time to think about all this. That works for you as you continue the story of today. As she becomes aware of Jake, and his drugs she perks up and appears to be paying more attention. "Those goons at your apartment were Russian mafia. I've seen them around when I was with Jake." She mentions. So that's one question answered. Apparently that was Jake's people hitting back. Your turn to consider things. "Can I call you Max?" "Sure, as good a name as any" "But what is your name?" And that snaps you fully back into the conversation. "It doesn't matter. I haven't used in a long time. I like Max" "Okay sorry no need to get defensive" "Its okay Liz." She fidgets and asks whats really on her mind "What do you want to do with the junk?" She lifts the bag as she asks. "Destroy it." "WHAT!" She practically screams at you "Fucking why Max? This could set us up for life" "And at what cost? Someone else ODing in a shithole apartment? No this poison needs to be destroyed. I'll make a campfire in a bit and that will be that" "Max just think about what your saying" "Liz this poison owns you as surely as any slave master. Don't you want to be free?" "Not as much as I want to be happy Max..." "You can have both Liz. Do you trust me?" "I mean kinda? But how?" "Easy Liz. We make a deal. I'll free you from this curse, and in return you won't leave me." Leaving out the forever part of that statement. "I'd never leave you Max. Sure... Do we shake hands?" It isn't necessary. The words were enough. You skim some of her soul off to check the connection. Works fine. And you feel better than you have in millennia. Time to do your part. You shift your consciousness from Max's body a little. Enough to reach over and begin rearranging her bloodstream. Dialysis alone wont cure her addiction but it's a place to start. You reknit collapsed veins as you move through her system. Her brain is degraded and that takes a good thirty seconds to reverse a decade of damage. "MAX WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING" You ignore the fleshwords and continue. A deal is a deal.
>>485 Cool
>>485 I assume Taz can see liz's memories now? That'd be some cool insight into how she and Max wound up as heroin whores together.
The job is finished. Her body, always perfect in your stolen eyes and emotions, is rendered into a form far fitter and healthier than she had ever achieved naturally. Whole of mind and body for the first time in years she exults, she is running outside now. Enjoying the night free from pain or want. And Taz reflects. Between the connection with her, and his mastery of Max's body, all of the sordid details of his past are laid bare. You stare backwards through time to satiate a curiosity for the blasphemous. You see to the year of 1986 when the two lovers met. Father Maxwell is delivering food to the poor at the encampments outside town. Dressed in full vestments he strides clearing between shabbily assembled homes. The ground dirt beaten flat by the passing of thousands of souls. His stare is full forward and his head held high, a giant metal pot between his hands, and then he sees her. Eliza squats in green partially torn tent, the metal struts visible through tears as the cloth hangs loosely, her clothes a too large stained white tshirt and khaki shorts, loose fitting Reeboks of a red hue strapped to her feet. They smile as they make eye contact. In 1987 he is holding her hand while they go on a date In 1991 he swears they will be together forever. The same year he first begins taking tithings to buy food for the homeless. In 1992 he is using the funds to buy heroin with Liz. You snap almost to the present and see the fight the night before. Max is explaining he's been fired, Liz swearing it can get better, Max saying it's all over. His soul the devil's own, forfeit. There being nothing left in this world worth anything, then he takes the bag they bought and saying he needs it all. Liz leaving crying. So Max shoots up and nodded off.
>>488 You still writing? This is good stuff, keep it going till you reach a decision-making point. There's nothing I can riff off here.
>>489 Yeah I just take a lot of breaks sorry. Thats good on the backstory right? Cause I wanna either fuck with cowboy ghosts or go back to Vegas and find out whos behind all the drugs and crazy assassins, could be fun. Or we could just keep driving and turn this into a cross country thing. But the suns rises on the second day soon for our protagonists. And thats three ideas for what they do when it does. If I was running this as game as a storyteller those would be the three ideas I make notes for and then see what the character decides. He may choose a fourth option like robbing a convenience store and then hiking out the mountains. You never know. And new players do tend to act like insane murder hobos
Around 4 am she gets back in the car and you both sleep together in the back. Waking at 10 you rouse Liz and step outside to piss. A singular experience, Taz glorifies in the sensation. Opening the drivers side door and climbing in you start the car. Liz climbs in the front seat and buckles up, you drive back towards the highway. You can either get back on going west or east. The dirt road also goes straight ahead under the highway.
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>>490 A roadtrip sounds AMAZING. We can stop at all sorts of new places, have fun shenanigans and get new members for the convoy. Convoy. That's it! We can eventually gather an entire convoy of people all following Taz throughout America, going on insane adventures and eventually dealing with the undue attention a massive fuckoff convoy would attract. Let's keep going east and see what there is to see in Mesquite.
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Getting back on I-15 going west you drive for an hour before pulling into Mesquite. Liz pulls out some money and you get the gas tank filled, you stop at the grocery story and buy some canned food and a medium sized pot. Getting back on the road you drive through Arizona before getting into Utah, the terrain has closed in to become very rocky and mountainous. You merge onto i70 near beaver and drive for a few hours before stopping for lunch at a mcdonalds in green river, Taz enjoys the sugar. Continuing on through the night you arrive in grand junction Colorado around 10 pm. Finally feeling safer with a State between you and the trouble you exit there for the night. Liz is tired of driving and wants somewhere we can rest a day or two. Finding the terrain north of the small airport to be drivable and mostly dry desert sand you set off for a couple miles beyond town, finally parking and grabbing a beer from the 12 pack you got at the last piss break. Liz is already asleep in the passenger seat. The car is grateful to finally turn off. You need a new one. Taz disagrees. He says he understands the engine. He has been studying it all day. He wants to try making it work more efficiently while we drive. Max is worried at this idea, but has learned to save his debates for more important topics. This far out the sky is full of stars. And You fall asleep staring at the twinkling.
>>493 Taz is a mechanic now? Go for it, man.
>>431 The author of this story has put it on hiatus, as per >>183. If desired, (you) may take over authorship and post a link to your new author's thread here. If the author comes off of hiatus, they may continue their version of the story within this thread as normal.
Taz awakes on the hood of the car, his long limbs cold under his jeans and unbuttoned dress shirt, for a second he savors the sensation, then opens his eyes and swings off the car. The sun is still below the horizon. Opening the backseat quietly to not wake Liz he takes the small pot, two bottles of water, and a can of folgers out, Liz turns in her sleep, the warmth of the car bleeding out into the cold air in wisps of vapor, and Taz takes a minute to stare at her reclined form before shutting the door. Gleaning for firewood takes 15 minutes, lighting a small fire would take at least as long Max knows, and so Taz knows, pausing by his pile of dead sage brush Taz grins and clenches his fist until it hurts, another sensation of flesh long denied him, and uncurls his hand to reveal a blaze in his palm where Max's nails dug in, a moment more to ensure the fire is burning evenly, and then he sets the pot on top. Pouring the water bottles into the pan, and then when it bubbles spooning in some grounds from the can of coffee grounds. Taz watches the water for a minute then returns to the car for two mugs, swiftly transferring the muddy coffee two both he sets one down and walks back to the car. Taz taps on the window til Liz opens one eye to glare at him. "Coffees up" Taz declares pointing back toward his small campfire with the pot and mug resting beside. Then without waiting for reply he sits on the hood and stares at the horizon. The mug steaming under his mouth he watches the sun rise for probably the only time in his existence. Time trickles by. It is full light before he hears the car door open and footsteps walking away from the car. 10 minutes later Liz climbs on the hood to sit beside him. "This shits cold" she whispers Taz just stares at the horizon "And probably the worst coffee I've ever had anyway" she continues Taz just nods. "You missed the sunrise" he murmurs "Next time I'm making the coffee" she growls back Max wishes he could roll his eyes Taz just grins.
>>496 Roadtrip when? Also, woman moment.
The cliffs in the distance are the same shape and color of old cowboy films, the landscape all around is apocalyptic in its absence of color or signs of habitation. Dirt, plateaus, and some depressingly ill looking sage sprinkled about. Everywhere but behind Taz. Behind them sits the small town and the highway. "Come on and lets get breakfast in town" Taz finally speaks aloud as he swings off the hood and starts getting into the drivers seat. "We only have 15 dollars left" Liz remarks before slowly getting down off the hood. She dumps the coffee from her mug and grabs Taz' empty one as well. She turns towards the passenger seat before staring at the remains of the dead campfire. "Is that out?" "Yeah, its fine, now come on" replies Taz He's beginning to get irritated with how much time they've already lost and is anxious to hit the road. "Okay" and with that last comment Liz finally opens the door and starts sitting down. Her safety belt is only half way to the catch when Taz turns over the motor and starts backing the car out towards the dusty dirt track towards town. "Geez your in a rush" liz is sour "Just wanna eat and get back on the road honey" "Can we get McDonald's?" She asks suddenly bright and cheerful. Max doesn't like the idea, and with his grumbling about money ringing in Taz ears the car is finally pointed back around towards town and Taz starts accelerating. "Yeah maybe... Hey I got an idea on money" Taz said "Oh yeah?" "Yeah it's simple, we ask for it" Liz raises an eyebrow Taz turns and smiles to calm her "Trust me baby this will work" "Ugh, I'd rather not fly a sign today" "No no, it's not begging, I have something different in mind." Soon dust from the tires is all that remains at the campsite And quiet returns once more to this desolate place.
>>498 Picture of grand valley OHV just north of the grand junction airport. Just off road "H"
As they neared highway 70 they passed several fast food joints, And the looks from Liz with each one passed by became more sullen and pointed. Taz ignored them and drove on. South of the highway, they pulled into an angler shop's parking lot. "What is this?" Asked Liz "A place to answer a question" replied Taz with a smile And with that, he left her in the car and walked inside. An old man at the counter saw him enter and alternated staring at him and filling out paperwork for a father and son. Taz saw a refrigerator in the back and stood there biding his time till the two at the counter had finished acquiring a fishing license, then grabbed a small Styrofoam cup of worms from the fridge before heading to the counter "Howdy" Taz greeted the salesman "Just that?" The old grizzled man behind the counter queried "No, do you know anywhere around here that's good for catfish?" "You'll need a license" "I got one last week looking for bass, but I'm craving catfish today" The counterman seemed puzzled, out of town licenses were usually purchased for the day only, but with a slow shake of his decision it wasn't his business and rang up the bait "You could try the colorado river south of town" "Thanks, I just might try that" "Well it'll be a dollar for the worms" Taz fished out four quarters from his pocket and slid them across the counter, then took the bait and left the store. Back outside Liz was smoking a cigarette beside the car and pacing "Did you get breakfast?" She murmured "In minute honey. In a minute" With that Taz entered the car and started the motor Liz flicked her cigarette and climbed into the passenger seat. "Well can we get it now?" She asked as the car pulled away from the parking lot "Not quite yet baby, first we gotta see the amazing colorado river" Liz snorted and leaned back in the car seat "I'd rather get breakfast" (Grammarly loves this one now so there.)
They pulled beside the road near a wide river, and Taz stepped from the vehicle. "This is perfect" he started to himself with relish. There were two fishermen below. Tax could see a red bobber floating on the surface of the river a little ways out from them. Descending the bank he made his way beside them. One of them in truckers cap glared at him for a second before speaking. "Help you?" Taz smiled and slowly responded "Maybe, you catching anything?" The other man hadn't turned during this exchange but had been listening, and at this, he chuckled. "Hell no" "What you using for bait?" Asked Taz "Mormon crickets. The fuck else is there to use this time of year?" The younger of the two responded. Still facing Taz. "Well, you tried worms?" Taz practically spoke through his teeth at them, so wide was his smile. The older man finally turned to Taz "Who the hell are you mister?" "A friend, here try these" Taz produced the styrofoam cup of worms bought earlier from the shop, Although to say these were the same worms wouldn't have been strictly speaking truthful. "I know you?" The younger of the two questioned with a frown. "No, the names Taz" proferring his other hand for a shake while passing the container. The young man reeled in his line then took the cup from tax, set it down, and then shook Tazriel's right hand with his left. "Andy" said the younger man as he set down his rod and opened the container of worms. "Shit these are big cocksuckers!" He said as he threaded one on his hook. "Smell a lil funny though" Taz just grinned back for all he was worth.
>>501 The colorado river at grand junction
>>502 Also, side note did you know it's pretty much impossible to find grits for sale in grand junction? I'm serious I went to three different stores last time I was there and the only one I found was a two lb sack of specialty "stone-ground" grits in a tiny burlap sack. Cost like 12 dollars. Years later and I'm still furious with these goddamn Yankees.
>>500 Thank you, it's much better >>503 That sucks man. I had grits for breakfast at cracker barrel just yesterday. Ever tried grits with tabasco? It's an interesting experience.
>>501 Taz is about to pull a "fishers of men" Jesus moment, ain't he?
>>504 Eh. I found a typo. "Slowly shook his decision and decided it wasnt his business" Should be head. Fuck. >>504 Yeah red eye style my uncle called that, a tasty, spicy, good eatin' time. >>505 Heh yeah, if your gonna steal, steal from the best.
Within seconds Andy had the worm hooked and was casting back out into the river. "Should stick with the crickets" said the older man Andy shrugged and slowly worked the line a little hoping to entice a faster catch. "Never hurts to try," Andy remarked and turned to wink at Taz "So you just out here to give out free bait, friend?" Andy continued "Something like that" returned Taz "Shit!" Andys pole almost scythed out of his hands as a large weight came on the line "Damn, you got one!" The older fella declaimed as he dropped his pole and turned in excitement to clap Andy's back "Fuck but he's a fighter!" The line seemed in danger of snapping as it worked like a blade across the semi still water, sending water spraying back and forth as Andy struggled to reel it in. "Pete get the fucking net!" Pete, as that was the older man's name, turned to the small pile of equipment to his left and grabbed a large net. Taz looked up the bank behind them to see if Liz was watching, but there was no sign of her, and the glare of the sun blocked the interior of the stolen car from view. "Fuck!, help me Pete he's stronger than a bastard!" Yelled andy as his pole continued jerking to and fro. Taz stepped towards the younger man and helped grab the pole and steady it. "C'mon reel!" Cried Taz as his adrenaline started to let loose. Careful with the pole, urged Max in his head, apparently as affected as the rest of them. With a crash, the 40lb channel cat broke the surface in his attempt to flee. "Goddamn, you see that!" Pete practically screamed "Fuck seeing I feel this sumbitch!" Andy yelled All too soon Andy had pulled the massive fish to the bank and Pete struggled to net it. "I got it" he quietly exclaimed as he finally lifted it from the water and had it in a bucket by the men's feet. The big fish didn't exactly fit, and may have escaped had Andy not carefully grabbed it with one hand while working a pocket knife under the beat chin. Awash of watery blood streamed out, almost freeing the large catfish from his grip, but by then Taz and Pete had their hands around it as well, holding it down as it jerked wildly in its last moments of life. "Holy shit!" Andy said as the fish finished struggling and he stood. "Biggest damn cat I ever saw!" Pete nodded with a grin, on impulse turning and offering Taz his hand. Taz took it and made his mark on the man's soul.
Fishing. Liz can hear her stomach growl again for the third time in as many minutes, and her deadbeat dipshit boyfriend is fishing. Not bad enough that he's losing his mind, all that bologna about demons and angels, well that isn't exactly new she corrects herself, he was always talking about God to her for years, but now he's crazier since that last fight. Her stomach growls for the fourth time. She still can't believe he ripped off the only dealer still talking to them, and God only knows what happened to the muscle that came to collect at the apartment, the whole thing is still a blur in her mind, but hell do drugs long enough and that happens. For a minute she was starting to buy his shit. That was probably just the junk talking. Liz hates being ignored, her parents used to do that for years till she left when she was 15. And now here she is once again. In some shitty situation, hungry, thirsty, left in a hot car while someone else does whatever the fuck they want, but what about what she wants? What she wants is in her front right pocket, and she can't stop touching it. Just to make sure she tells herself, just to make sure she didn't just imagine that too, but there it is. A little plastic baggie, one of the hundreds from a backpack. She hears laughter from outside the car. Fucking men. "They always disappoint you" she murmurs to herself. Or maybe it's her mom talking. She said that once Liz thinks. Who knows though? Memory is such a blur. She looks at the clock on the dash, but the cars been off for more than ten minutes and the blank empty dial just stares back at her. "Fuck it," she says aloud as her hand comes out of the pocket with a plastic baggie tight in her grip.
Okay second hiatus time. I'm gonna work on the 50 shades thing through december probably. And im at a wall on this as well. I need to delete the past like three entries and rethink the direction. Otherwise I'm just gonna kill Liz out of annoyance. I think go back to the flight from Vegas even. I wanna finish that story there. With my planned other demon in control of a small organized crime outfit. Office in a casino, all about temptation, we deal with his mooks, finally have a big boss fight for true control of Liz soul (this other demon got there first and pushes H) and then start the cross country journey. Really I think we need to have a book set in Vegas, even if its a short novella, and then with a better grasp on liz characterization move into book two the cross country /pol/lack thing with better established core characters. I mean right now shes kinda a cardboard cutout. And I hate her. So yeah a break from this while I work on the other thing, come back to this with a clearer head, and just a better drive for the whole thing. There's just no tension here. Getting very paint by numbers, bland, boring. Yeah taking a break and when I come back massive rewrites.

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