No matter how much you tried, and try you did, you had never seen your teacher this serious, this focused and grim. Unless a call from the Greater Spirits came, which they did....not too rarely, but this was a different kind of feeling to her eyes you'd seen when those came. This was like your teacher, wise and learned as you knew her, was preparing for an End. An End that she could see but had spoken nothing of to any of the village or even you for that matter, which absolutely unsettled the Chief of course, as they were, by right, to be told of any impending danger and doom, by the claws of monster or hands of man.
Unless this was the work of Spirits.
The thought alone gives you a shiver.
Spirits, being of incredible power and strange variety, had never caused the village any trouble for so long that the idea of it was a small heresy to even imagine. No spirit sent a message without reason, never came to the village themselves, never even seemed to consider the village as anything but something far out of the way and you had the idea it was because the place was so awfully boring and routine. The way you saw it and how your teacher described, which you thought she was really good at since she told much cooler stories than that old stumbling Storyteller who peeked in on lessons with that scowl on his wrinkly face. You'd never say that out loud of course, but you hung onto your great teacher's every word as she spoke, and a part of you fears how quiet and focused your teacher is. How grim their eyes are and how her usual smile had been thinned to a line of pure concentration. You feared, perhaps, the pact she'd told you of at the begining of your lessons had been broken. Had the Greater Spirits called on your teacher to settle some debt the village had incurred? Has there been a breach in the pact so severe that only her head could satisfy them? Had the Greater Spir---
"Child", calls your teacher as she fastened the straps of her old and yet beloved travel pack. The thing has been around the study hanging from a hook for almost as long as you've been her pupil. You almost thought with how it was always there that it might be her first pupil but as silly as it is, it was always there as she taught you her lessons of communication with spirits and important rituals. "I need you to visit with the Elders, especially the Chief. I've written a good few things on a letter they must be given, a good few things they must know, how to do them, and the why of the matter. I need you to hand it to them and then go to the workshop, gather the Skygem before going inside, and then lock the door behind you. Do not open it for anything. Do not open it even if the chief himself comes slamming on it and ordering you to."
Frieden Moon, Natural Cadet-in-Training of the ZAFT Voluntary Militia. Has found themselves press-ganged into early-service as the Grimaldi Front Campaign sought the best-of-the-best prospect to participate as a number-boosting maneuver kickstarted by Founding Council Member Patrick Zala.
Truth lies ahead as Frieden embarked on a long journey across the stars, His first test in real frontline combat just about to start.
Yumigawa Rushorou was plunged into a life-or-death struggle in a surreal otherworld when, one day, he went to sleep in his familiar bed and found himself thereafter in the burning ruins of a nameless city. After ten days of struggle, he emerged victorious, standing as one of very few survivors of a crucible called the Akeldama. His enemies, one way or another, were dead. His allies had been protected. The ultimate prize was his. Then he woke up. After two strange days of confusion, a stabbing, and the realization that there never was such a person as Yumigawa Rushorou, a man people call Archer found that there was a noose around his neck, and started looking for a way to get rid of it. You haven't found it yet.
<span class="mu-s">Loaded ... ... ... Welcome User, please enter in your username and password. ... ... >Username: *************** >Password: ************** Loading ... ... ... Loading ... ... ... Loaded ... ... ... Welcome Operator, to <span class="mu-b">Task Force Vanguard
The Containment Box is fully online in a secure facility with two companies of Marines, a platoon of SF qualified personnel, and a nearby National Guard base on standby. Nothing gets into the underground facility and nothing gets out. The landing spots around the C Box are filled with trained killers, ready to pacify or slaughter anything that lands from other timelines or dimensions.
As long as the Box is running, humming along, our goverment is sale from an assassination team popping into existence in the Capitol. As long we do our jobs, spies and saboteurs can't sneak into our world.
However, you are members of an Expedition Team. Your job is to go to other timelines, figure out what is different or the same, locate the enemy, and obtain intel or hamper the enemy. As far as the DSCC Council is concerned, the United States is in a state of war with one or more governments in alternate timelines. These governments have their own Expedition Teams.
The situation is similar to the Cold War, with both sides sending in special forces and spies to undermine the influence of the other.
>The character creation process will happen shortly.</span></span>
It has been seven months since you, the Courier, shrugged off the yoke of outside oppression and declared the Mojave a free state. Putting yourself at odds with the Bear, Bull and other minor powers seeking the riches of the region, you are instead transforming it into a power to be reckoned with.
From negotiating a ceasefire and eventual treaty by walking all over the NCR Diplomatic Corp, to landing a million-cap joint investment to rapidly expand the industry of the Mojave, you have played it fast and loose with the mighty Republic. Time will tell if this influence will spell the end of the independence of the Mojave.
Flirting with the NCR doesn’t match the situation you find yourself in with the mighty Caesar and his Legion. After agreeing to operate on his tumor, you not only planted a seed of paranoia but assumed the place of Augustus to his Julius, opening a potential path to inheriting the mighty Legion.
While playing these two great powers off of each other, you also have a frosty relationship with the Brotherhood of Steel, who surely have their own machinations with the dusty safe haven from the NCR.
But you’re not just a robotic warlord with a state, as you've declared the New Vegas Directorate to be the government of the Mojave, with the Courier Council as the legislative body, you as the executive and an independent judiciary to reflect many of the same tenants of the old world. You’ve created a military, a series of funded governmental departments and have begun the delicate dance of private-government ownership of the economy.
But will you be able to stop factionalism from infecting the infant nation? There are former Enclave soldiers, ardent Republicans, self-interested Wastelanders and other unknowns all nipping at the heels of power and a populace as equally diverse.
The domestic threats pale in comparison to the dreaded Boomer Blight which has the potential to wipe out all life in the former United States and beyond, snuffing out the dream of a strong and independent Mojave.
With the brain of Mr. House still in a coma, the NCR too focused on the Legion and Caesar himself lost in delusions, will you be able to harness advanced technology to secure not only an independent Mojave but one which can rise above what has always plagued man?
The world has another side, one with secret societies and hidden powers vying for control. But it is not merely humans, nay. For millennia, creatures which a modern man considers fables have been battling in the shadows, both within their own, and others. Only the Magical Girls can slay the demons of humanity's suffering, and clean up the supernatural messes along the way!
Following next, an inexperienced magical girl grounds herself in her new life.
- - - - -
Last we left off, the newly minted magical girl, Sugar Rush, has triumphed in her first Barrier. Assisting her sisters in defeating the monster of the storm drains. Detransforming after the fight has caused our heroine to collapse. Leaving her to rest with one of her sisters to watch over her.
While resting, an opportunity presents itself. Why not ask a few questions about the world around?
- - - - -
Questions questions… you sigh.
“You guys didn’t seem to pass out like I did. What’s with that?”
Jacky makes a teasing grin. “Well, we’re stronger for one… But nah, it’s just practice. There’s a connection between the brain and soul with emotions and stuff somewhere in between. When you transform, you get a lot closer to all of that, and when you go back, it’s like dunking your head in cold water.”
Wait. “So why not just stay in the other form all the time?”
Jacky tilts her head. “Eeeeeeh, I mean. I know some people who try, but it ain’t good for you. Being so immersed in all that makes it a lot harder to unwind, and *trust me*, unwinding is the most important of this. Being transformed all the time also goes against some strategies some girls are anal about, but that’s no biggie.”
You take a moment to consider. There seem to be some metaphysics that you don’t have enough fucks to dive into. There is also the implications of the greater magical… everything. Thinking about that part just makes you head hurt. It’s not been even a day, you’re going to take this piece by piece. Though you do wonder. “How long did it take you to adjust to all of this magical girl stuff?”
Jacky pauses, her eyes losing focus for a moment, her expression going slack with reminiscence. “Damn that’s a question…. I guess not too long for me. I didn’t know much else before it, just went with it and tried my best.” She smiles gently, in a way you haven’t seen her smile before, her gaze still in the past. “I started real young though, got helped by others a lot, the start itself wasn’t all too bad just saw it as a game…” Her focus snaps back, her usual grin returning. “But that was a while ago, at least for me, we got some reeeal old ladies hanging around, y’ know.”
Might as well ask. “How long ago did you start?”
She snorts. “Round thirteen years ago, don’t remember the date but around that.”
You are a Cainite. A bloodsucking monster, with a Beast lurking in the shadow of your mind. You are one of the many hands grappling the Sword of Caine. You were not inducted into the Sect randomly - you are no shovelhead. No, your sire chose you, because of your qualities and what you could bring to the Sabbat. Granted the Creation Rites and welcomed into the Sabbat. Your sire's faction within the Sabbat, the Order of Saint Blaise, focuses on temporal power and maintaining the Silence of the Blood. Your colleagues beyond the Order scoff at you, thinking you're playing by the hated Camarilla's rules. But who supplies the crusades, coordinates the cleanup of bodies, watches the Camarilla, and makes sure the night to night goes smoothly?
That's where you come in.
You were chosen for a reason. What was it? (Each choice gives that template's Primary Attribute category, alongside a merit)
>Stern Resolve. You went through the Iraq War and the prolonged hostilities in Afghanistan. You know asymmetrical warfare - you've been targeted by it and coordinated against it. Under fire, you never lost your keen mind, or became diminished from the horrors you saw. (Primary Attribute: Mental, Gain “Iron Will Resistance” merit)
>Manipulation. You know how to control people, like a board room maestro or a cult leader. Reading people comes easy to you. Maybe you were popular in school. Maybe you saw people as chess pieces. Regardless, you are adept at your craft. (Primary: Social, Gain “Magnetic”)
>Underworld Veteran. You are familiar with the illegal world and how to navigate it. Mostly with violence, or the threat of it. You have contacts and know how to rub shoulders with gangs and black marketeers. (Primary: Physical, Gain “Underworld Network”)
>Survivalist. Against all odds, where others fell, you rose. Using your wits and instinct, you survived on your own in the wilderness for days or weeks at a time. (Primary: Physical, Gain “Survival Instincts”)
>Revenant. You were born from one of the many families the Sabbat have created over the centuries. Not all Revenants are chosen for the Embrace. Although limited, your prodigious skill and application of Disciplines put you above the other candidates. (Primary: Social, +1 dot to Disciplines)
>Keyboard Wizard. Your rather milquetoast upbringing brought you stability. And that became the bedrock of your interest in computers, software, and coding. You've cracked into restricted sites, and fluent with “keeping abreast of mortal trends” as your sire puts it. You are their liaison to the 20th century. (Primary: Mental, Gain “Gizmo” merit)
<span class="mu-i">Saturday, May 14, 1985. Chicago.</span>
You open your eyes to the sound of rushing feet and whispered voices. It’s still dark, your wife turning over and muttering in her sleep. What’s the time? The digital clock reads 3:46 AM. There’s more voices outside in the corridor. People are running. What’s going on? You get out of bed, taking care not to disturb Linda, and look for your dressing gown. You find it and wrap it around yourself while you look through the window. The city is quiet, only a few cars lazily crawling down the streets, empty of pedestrians. You see that there’s been a light rain, droplets of water still clinging to your window and leaving the city streets glistening.
There’s a knock at the door, and as you turn, it opens, and your friend, Albert West, pokes his head through and says: “Mr President. We need you to come with us.”
SOMEWHERE ABOVE THE ARCTIC
A beeping rings out through the cockpit. Three pairs of eyes are staring at the dashboard. Cpt. William Blakely, aircraft commander, pushes a button and the beeping stops. He orders the navigator to check in with command. The navigator pushes some buttons and listens to his headset, then shakes his head. Cpt. Blakely pushes some more buttons, and CAP811 flashes on his screen. He resets the system. CAP811 flashes on the screen again. He looks at his pilot, who nods, slowly. They both unzip a pouch on their vests, and pull out two documents, marked TOP SECRET. They break the red ribbon seal, and read what is written on them. They look at each other’s documents. The contents are identical. There is silence in the cockpit.
