Not Your Mama’s Roll2Dodge [2/4] (SIGNUPS OPEN)

[Formerfish]

/in

[Formerfish]

I kinda like the idea of a tinkerer, like someone who is able to make things out of stuff available to them to get them out of trouble. Someone very able to adjust and keep moving.

[Formerfish]

@Former: Could we maybe use a Resource Trait to simulate the amount of spare parts and materials you have on hand, and then you can expend those points to attempt certain checks?

Is that something from the link above? I was trying to look on my phone earlier but got confused and gave up.

[Formerfish]

I was thinking maybe I could be some kind of sniper? It depends on whether it fits within the setting.

Ever read the dark tower series? Could be like a gunslinger?

[Formerfish]

A discord for this would be cool.

[Formerfish]

Ok, so after all that I am thinking about the show Burn Notice, where the main character was a burned spy who was doing good deeds for people using his special skill set.

I kinda want something like that, where I can talk my way out of most things, but also am able to use what is available to me to make an escape if needed. I dont want to be strong, or big, ive always been more nimble and walked softly.

[Formerfish]

I've never seen the show but I think I have the gist of it. I think I can whip a path template up for that pretty easy, and you can tell me what you do and don't like in it, so we can tweak it to your preferences. Sound good?

Perfect.

[Formerfish]

A new city.

A new lease on life.

I was forced to leave my ancestral home and the land I was set to inherit after a plot against my family was initiated. My Mother and Father were killed, my Brother and I were able to escape but were separated as we fled. I spent a week out in the woods, living off the land, hiding from anyone who came close enough to make contact. The only person I could trust implicitly was my brother, and I'm not even sure if he made it away safely.

I slowly made my way to civilization so that I could blend into the crowd. The weeks growth of stubble and some clothes I borrowed off a line outside an unattended window has me looking like any other insignificant citizen eking out a living where and when I can. It was a year before I had enough money saved up to get out of my home country and go somewhere safer. I couldn't go to any of the family homes spread across the continent because they would undoubtedly be set up upon and watched in case we make the mistake to think we were safe.

Fralise, the City of Light! Our family vacationed there one time and my brother and I had the most fun of any place we have ever been. The way that the city had been built upon itself so many times meant that there was much to be explored. It was nice to be somewhere that we weren't recognized as being sons of a prominent member of our countries ruling class. If only those who worked against us had known that my brother and I had no interest in ruling over anyone. My brother was an artist. He could take nothing more than an idea in his head and turn them into works of art so realistic you would swear you were looking at the real thing through a window he carefully crafted just for you. I want nothing more than to solve the mysteries that I find intriguing and worthy of my time and considerable expertise.

I only have one goal in mind right now though, and that is to find my brother and avenge my families death, or die in the attempt. My first stop is a seedy little bar that I had heard about. This is the type of place where you keep your head down, talk quietly and don't ask too many questions. People often forget that those serving them are within listening distance, and of course tongues become a lot more loose when the libations are flowing and the ochire is burning. This is the perfect place to start my investigation and see what the word is among the rogues and vagabonds.

I walk into the bar and see the tables taken up by small groups, and an almost full bar. A single stool sits unoccupied near the middle of the bar, right in front of a wall sized mirror. Serendipity smiles again. I settle into the seat and use the mirror to subtly check out my surroundings. Exit signs mutely glow as they indicate one other exit on the back of the bar in addition to the one up front. A gaming table is surrounded by beings of all manners, man, alien, machine, vying for a spot to see the action. Money is flying as bets are made back and forth. I've never taken much to gambling, I've seen it cause to much ugliness. I wonder if that had anything to do with my families misfortune.

Counting the man at the door, and the bartender there are 3 more employees milling around, and at one of the tables the owner is sitting with a few of the harder looking individuals I've ever seen in my time. Either they are muscle or this place is more connected than I thought. The cameras all over the place give me the impression that there is more to the place that I know.

I hate to be as trite as to tell another story that starts with a man walking into a bar, but here we are and I'm thirsty. Reaching into my pocket I pull out a stack of credits. The bartender catches the movement and makes their way over.

[Formerfish]

The bartender approaches Bradford with a wary eye. “Hello, stranger,” he growls, not unkindly but with a touch of concern. “What can I be getting for you today? A drink? A meal?”

"Beer. Cold." Is all Brad says to the bartender. Long ago a wiser man than himself passed along the knowledge that the use of words should be conserved until they are needed. Watching and listening will do a man much more good than he could gain from speaking.

I look around the room to see if anyone is paying attention to me. One of the bosses muscle men eye me up and down, I return the gaze with passive disinterest. I hope that those guys aren't going to end up causing me trouble. Deep down though I already know how that chapter of this story will end.

The bartender returns with the ice cold bottle of Elliot Ness lager, setting it on the opening station. Pressing the button the machine goes into action. Gears churn, axles turn, and belts whine and the parts shudder and spit to life. After a few seconds the machine gets going, and pops the top off the beer. The bartender passes it across the bar, and says "Five credits."

I slide a 20 credit chit to him from my stack, and he tells me that he'll be right back with the change, which I tell him to keep.

I take a sip of the cool nectar of the gods, and I wait.

[Formerfish]

A) Inferno, don’t use that color. It’s tough for me to read.
B) Former, are you actively trying to hide your identity?

Actively no. I don't look like how anyone would remember me though.

Before I ran I was clothed in the finest fabrics in the most current trends. A team of attendants would groom every facet of my body to keep a pristine look.

Now I have a year's worth of unkempt beard, haven't had a haircut to mention, and I am dressed in common clothes found anywhere around the world.

And I came to this land because no one should know me here.

[Formerfish]

Gotcha. Would you make an opposed roll then? No bonus.

While I may not be actively hiding who I am, I don't like to make myself the center of attention for any reason. I will roll in opposition to have more control of the conversation.

Original Roll String: 1d20

1 20-Sided Dice: (2) = 2

[Formerfish]

I keep trying to figure out if I should be using 3rd person perspective for myself right now. Thoughts?

In the middle of a long thirst quenching draw off the bottle (I'm actually about to grab one in real life too!) Brad feels something tug on the back of his shirt. At first he believed it to just be catching on something, so he adjusted it and went back to his thoughts and his beer.

It was on the second tug that Brad turned around and saw a man just a forehead or two shorter than himself. Brad tries to make eye contact but the man is crosseyed and swaying so hard it was difficult to focus on his eyes at all. The red stained teeth told him all he needed to know. Ochire was a hell of a drug. The high goes one of two ways, either a nice relaxed feeling for the evening, or an irritable evening that could be set off faster than a spare smoke tossed in the oil drums out back.

Brad takes the last pull from his beer, wipes the foam from his bushy mustachioed face and says to the man, "Well,

mate

, if you look around you'll see that every seat is taken here tonight. Must be something with the moon, making us all come out into the streets, down into the bars, and hideaways, and speakeasies to join each other and carry each others burdens, if only for a little while at least. You seem to have you own burdens to carry, as you wear them well on your face. Since this is your seat in your bar in a city I am a stranger in I offer a compromise. We get rid of this seat, then you and I stand here while we drink the beers of the round I take care of. How does that strike you, friend?"

Upon finishing Brad slides off the stool, makes a show of picking it up and moving it off to the side, clearing up enough room for two men to saddle up to the bar and join each other in the brotherhood of the bar, or there is enough room for something else if it were to go that way. Brad would like to keep this under wraps as the situation has already come to the attention of the servers on the floor, and now one of the bosses muscle men is paying close attention to what is going on.

Brad says to the bartender, who has stayed close by since he saw the crosseyed gentleman first tug on his shirt, "I'll take another beer, and whatever my new friend will be having as well."

[Formerfish]

Original Roll String: 1d20

1 20-Sided Dice: (7) = 7

[Formerfish]

"Barkeep, I suppose one of your strongest and cheapest drinks would be just fine for my ill mannered friend."

Brad takes the drink and the barstool walking towards the back door without a moment of hesitation. With his hand full Brad kicks near the handle and breaks the frame to allow the door to swing open freely. Brad sets the stool down and places the shot on top of it.

Walking back to the confused man Brad smiles a wide toothy smile and says, "Ahh... My friend. I have your seat and drinking waiting for you. Right this way." Brad walks the staggering man towards his waiting seat. They walk out the back door together and the man sees the shot sitting on his favorite stool. Oblivious to his surroundings the drunk man says, "See... It's my stool. I've been here every night since I started working in the tunnels. 15 years. 6,375 nights. About time someone showed me some respect. Everyone acts like I don't exist, like they can't even see me. You see me. You respect me. They don't see. They will see. One day. I'mma make them see." The man kept on mumbling, but it began to make less and less sense as he went out. Eventually Brad realizes that the man isn't even speaking to him anymore, he's started to speak and answer himself in a series of grunts and groans.

Brad makes his was back inside, and reclaims his spot at the bar.

I'll give a roll to see how well that solution turned out I think

Original Roll String: 1d20 (STATIC)

1 20-Sided Dice: (12) = 12

[Formerfish]

Brad realizes that the bar is entirely to quiet. He looks around and sees that everyone has frozen almost in place and are tracking Brad with each set (sometimes singles) of eyes in the place.

"Sorry, how do you normally take care of hopped up rambling drunk aggressors. I guess I could have killed him, but that would just be disrespectful, and last time I check this bar was a neutral site."

[Formerfish]

Oh, I guess I wasn’t clear enough. Sorry.
This is a C check. Former, I need an intimidation check please

Original Roll String: 1d20

1 20-Sided Dice: (20) = 20

[Formerfish]

The man steps out in front of the crowd, putting himself between the newcomer and the others. HE crosses his arms and gives them all the deepest scowl he can muster, which is very deep indeed. "That's enough. Everyone back to your business."

"Thanks for that. I guess maybe it wasnt the best idea to do that, I was just trying to avoid any bloodshed. His or mine. You have a name friend?" Brad says to the man who emerged from the crowd to address the bar.

[Formerfish]

"Name's Bradford, but only my father ever called me that. I've always gone by Brad, my full name always felt so heavy," Brad replied. "I felt sorry for that guy, I knew plenty like him back home. Guys like him have very little in the ways of comfort, but I knew in this place I couldn't back down to him without losing face."

Brad let that last sentence hang in the space between the two men. Watching Johnson's face for any give or tell from the man. Ever since he was a child Brad was able to read people well. The elders talked about him being an empath, seemingly able to tap into a person's true feelings and intentions. It has served him well in his time too.

Johnson seems to be a man of few words as well since the time between sounds has grown to an almost palpable tension.

Brad reaches out with his inner mind to see if there is anything he can glean from the mountain of a man in front of him.

Original Roll String: 1d20

1 20-Sided Dice: (12) = 12

[Formerfish]

I won't waste the points if it stays the same regardless.

[Formerfish]

"The people around here listen to you, and not out of fear like I have seen so many other men gain power from. It's clear that these people respect you which from my experience only comes from one of two ways in this city and you don't look like you are a man of means, no offense of course just an observation of the state of your clothes and the fact that your hands are more callouses than they are anything else."

Brad stopped here to observe the facial expression of the mysterious stranger. Sensing that his words were taken well, Brad went on. "How long since you stopped using your hands to inflict pain on others? Did they deserve what was given to them? I can sense the rage in you at that time in your life. Unbridled, wild fire running through your veins. What I can't sense is if you were on the right or wrong side of that friend. I'll tell you this, from what I can see you are not a man who I would ever want to think of me as his enemy. I'd hate to have seen what you would have done to me walking back through that door knowing I had just spilled the blood of that man."

Stopping when he realized he was monologuing a bit Brad apologized and explained that sometimes he was able to get flashes of people through contact, like shaking a hand. Brad goes on to explain that there normally isn't an immediately clear connection between what he sees, but it always means something in the end. If you think about life as a giant puzzle where certain pieces need to be placed before others fit into the picture it would make a lot more sense. Brads visions are like seeing a piece that doesn't get placed until the previous ones have been.

[Formerfish]

can i do a roll for perception?

[Formerfish]

its alright. Im just glad its not dead.

Original Roll String: 1d20

1 20-Sided Dice: (18) = 18

Big money big money, no whammies!

[Formerfish]

well shite

[Formerfish]

Lol