name

<Teller|GM> Think Tank's choice of transportation is neither a limo, like the Brotherhood has (had?), nor is it a tank, but it's nice. A silver BMW, one of the higher end models. It fits in well with this area of the city.
<Teller|GM> Snowdrop is the one who drives the vehicle. She rests three fingers of each hand on the steering wheel and navigates effortlessly through the streets, maintaining a steady speed just below the limit. Katja rides shotgun, while Claire and Eight Hundred sit in the back.
<Teller|GM> "We're not very far away," Snowdrop reassures her. Claire has noticed that the interior of the car had gone from uncomfortably warm to chilly over the course of the short drive, despite the fact that the windows are shut and the AC is off. ||
<tubes|Slither> Claire is feeling a little steadier from her earlier freakout. If anything, she might even be feeling a little better than she'd felt in a long while. Things were clearer now, at least. Though she's left wondering what happens to her new legs if she doesn't want to help the Keepers rebuild the Brotherhood. Because she really wasn't up for that. It's pretty clear now, especially after using
<tubes|Slither> Snowdrop's power that, she really just needed someone to tell her what to do. Or go to the police and let them throw her in a hole in the ground somewhere, because the only thing she'd gotten so far out of trying to do things on her own so far was have a nervous break down in bar in front of a bunch of strangers. Who she'd gotten in the car with.
<tubes|Slither> Right, the wack-job club. Well, at least they hadn't given her any pamphlets on the spiritual healing power of crystals or some crap like that. Speaking of wack-jobs, why'd they have to stick her next to this guy? Did they still think she was gonna go crazy and start cutting people up?
<tubes|Slither> She sneaks a glance at Eight Hundered.
<tubes|Slither> What had she called him again? A slasher movie-wannabe? She'd been kinda upset...hopefully he wasn't the type to hold a grudge.
<tubes|Slither> Ugh, what was she getting herself into? Well, it can't possibly go worse than her last...several...attempts to try and do...pretty much anything. ||
<Teller|GM> ((Wits and Social rolls, please. No skills apply.))
<tubes|Slither> $roll 1d6+1 wits
<[ATM]> tubes|Slither "wits" [1] +1 = 2
<tubes|Slither> $roll 1d6+1 soc
<[ATM]> tubes|Slither "soc" [6] +1 = 7
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<Teller|GM> Eight Hundred isn't paying her much mind, opting instead to watch the city whizz by his window. She's pretty sure she knows why Katja isn't sitting next to her, at least - the girl's still pretty wary of her. She never catches her at it, but she can practically /feel/ her sneaking glances at her in the rearview window every few seconds.
<Teller|GM> Before too long they pull up into a driveway. The home in front of them is exceedingly normal. Two stories, white paint, green lawn, a porch...it looks more like her parents' house than a supervillain lair.
<Teller|GM> They roll into the garage, and are scarcely inside before the door begins closing behind them. Snowdrop turns off the engine and climbs out of the car. The others following suit swiftly.
<Teller|GM> "Welcome to our temporary home," Snowdrop says, glancing back towards Claire. "We're renting, for the time being, but we may end up buying if Katja grows attached."
<Teller|GM> She looks around the currently empty garage. "I do like the location." ||
<tubes|Slither> Well, it was a step down from the Brotherhood manor or the Keeper's fortress-thingy, but at least this one probably wasn't going to be blown up anytime soon, or have a gaggle of strange children wandering around giving her the stink-eye. There was something to be said for inconspicuity?
<tubes|Slither> Christ, this was getting weirder by the minute. Hadn't her mother said never get in the car with strangers? Well, she'd also told her not to talk to strangers, and there was probably something in there about maiming and being a supervillain, so that ship had clearly sailed. Ugh.
<tubes|Slither> Well, she was already here, so as long as she didn't walk in on Snowdrop cooking small orphan children for her witch's brew, it's not like things could get any worse.
<tubes|Slither> Claire isn't sure if Snowdrop wants a response. "It's, erm, very nice?" She ventures. At least less likely to get blown up. Always a plus. ||
<Teller|GM> Snowdrop gives her a small smile. "Nice enough."
<Teller|GM> Katja leads the group up a short set of steps into the kitchen. The interior is as nice as the exterior, but there's the same jarring, contrasting normality. It's distinctly like stepping into a home decoration magazine - except with a pale supervillainess, a slasher film antagonist, and some girl who thought Claire was the Butcher Queen.
<Teller|GM> "Please, sit," Snowdrop says. She gestures towards the living room, which is visible from the kitchen thanks to the modern open layout. "We both have a lot of questions. Do you want something to eat or drink?" ||
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<tubes|Slither> Yep, definitely ending today in a body bag. Well, she'd known that since like three 'o clock this afternoon, so she might as well sit on this...tastefully arranged couch.
<tubes|Slither> "Erm...water is fine, thank you." She says, after a moment of trying to process the dissonance. She sits on the couch, trying to actlike this was all totally cool and natural. She hung out in supervillain lairs all the time. Even ones that look like they'd been put together on the Home and Garden channel.
<tubes|Slither> You know, it wasn't as if Claire was a great supervillain. Maybe there was something important about the coffee table books. Maybe that's why Seachange lost. Didn't take the time to coordinate the feng shui. This though is unexpectedly funny, given all the recent disaster, and she finds herself supressing a snort. ||
<Teller|GM> Snowdrop sits in a seat opposite Claire, while Eight Hundred drops heavily onto the other end of the couch and props his feet up on the coffee table.
<Teller|GM> "Tell me. What's your situation like, Slither?" Snowdrop asks. Katja emerges from the kitchen with a glass of water and places it in front of Claire, before retreating to stand next to Snowdrop's chair. ||
<tubes|Slither> Ugh. That immediately ruins her slightly-improving mode. Was there a delicate way to phrase being homeless, having no money, no friends, no family, and being a wanted criminal? Oh, and there's a small child who can blow her up at any time. Great.
<tubes|Slither> "Erm...well...uh...how do I put this...Not great? I'm staying, well, at the Keeper's Headquarters right now, but uh..."
<tubes|Slither> Their leader looked like he'd been put through a blender? One of the children who roamed the place wanted to kick her out? The only other person with any apparent authority was a bitchy girl who made too many cat puns?
<tubes|Slither> "...it's not really a permanent arrangement. They're, uh, kind of weird..."
<tubes|Slither> She trails off, wondering if she should mention the police thing. Probably should, if she's...joining? Was that what she was doing here? Joining the wack-job club? Well, Snowdrop was apparently some sort of evil mastermind, but she was also apparently doing a better job of it than Claire's poor attempts at being a supervillain so far. Given Eight Hundred's wad of cash, it apparently got
<tubes|Slither> you three hots and a cot, as the slang went. Might as well err on the side of full disclosure.
<tubes|Slither> "And, um, well, I-I guess you already know, sort of, but I'm pretty sure the police, or the-the Protectorate know who I am..."
<tubes|Slither> She gets quiet at this last part, glancing up from and then back down at her glass of water, suddenly nervous. Even though she'd already looked like a bigger idiot at the bar. Should probably see how they react to that first before mentioning the leg thing, if whatever Katja did hadn't shown them it already. ||
<tubes|Slither> ((mode -> mood)
<Teller|GM> None of the three villains look very worried.
<Teller|GM> "The police are no concern," Snowdrop says calmly. "Neither is the Protectorate. I do not recognize or respect the authority of the government of the United States of America, federal or local."
<Teller|GM> "Those are the heroes that killed Thousand Hands, right?" Eight Hundred asks, a bit of confusion in his voice. "How'd a Brotherhood cape end up with them?" ||
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<tubes|Slither> Er, what? That was a first. Right, wack-job club. Well, if she thought she could handle them, regardless of the reason, Claire wasn't really going to complain. As for the Keepers...
<tubes|Slither> "Uh, it's kind of a long story..."
<tubes|Slither> Not to mention the fact that she got the impression they were...not very heroic. She's not sure what other explaination there is for letting a 13 year old smoke in the base. Indoors even! And she put it out on the furniture! Someone else's furniture!
<tubes|Slither> Before she can get too distracted thinking of all the ways the Keepers were decidely unheroic. Claire just decides to cut to the chase and lifts her costume skirt a bit, showing them the metal.
<tubes|Slither> "I, um, couldn't walk until, um, recently. Seachange...had some kind of deal, I think? with their leader, and he got The Little Doctors to, um, fix me. Sort of. He also, um, wanted me to...bring them back with me...willing or otherwise..."
<tubes|Slither> Ugh. She takes a sip of water there, trying to cover how stupid she felt for even attempting it.
<tubes|Slither> "...which obviously...didn't work. I, well, don't know the specifics, but Abby told me she'd put in-in, some kind of, of failsafe explosive. Threatened to use it. Then Galileo called me to tell I'd better stay clear if I, I knew what was good for me, and Big Bad blew up the manor, and we could hear it even at the Keeper's Headquarter, so everyone got kind of distracted from the whole
<tubes|Slither> 'should we blow up Slither' discussion' and," she avoids mentioning it's probably because she's the worst supervillain ever and they could tell, "they just kind of...let me camp out."
<tubes|Slither> She tries to get it out with a minimum of stumbling, but revisiting the whole incident makes her feel like a moron. And makes her mad at Seachange again. What an idiot. ||
<Teller|GM> ((Social roll, please.))
<tubes|Slither> $roll 1d6+1 social
<[ATM]> tubes|Slither "social" [5] +1 = 6
<-> Mazinja is now known as Maz|CheeryB
<Teller|GM> Katja looks surprised by the legs, while Snowdrop just nods. She's hard to read, but Claire thinks she didn't too bad of a job explaining herself. "Are your legs, to the best of your knowledge, capable of anything else beside walking and exploding?" ||
<tubes|Slither> She tries to think for a moment. It'd been so long since before, she didn't really have much of a comparison...
<tubes|Slither> "I can feel through them and stuff, like...normal, but I think they're a little better than normal?" It was weird talking about her body parts like this. "They don't really get tired in the same way. If you're talking about gadgets or a GPS or something, then, um, nothing i've noticed." ||
<Teller|GM> "So they just let you camp out, huh?" Eight Hundred says, but doesn't press the point. "Well, I'll point out the obvious: We can't have you around if you could explode any second. The legs've got to go, with or without you attached to them."
<Teller|GM> "Let's not be hasty," Snowdrop says, holding up her hand. Her gaze lingers on Claire's legs for several seconds before moving to her face. "Could Abby be reasoned with?"
<Teller|GM> Before Claire can respond, Katja quickly shakes her head. "No. She's...volatile." ||
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<tubes|Slither> Wait, what, what the fuck? 'The legs had to go?' What, did he think she was going to say, 'yeah, sure, you're right, go get the hatchet, off they go?' Great, this was turning out to be as awful as an idea as all the other one's she's had. She tries to stay calm, and avoid letting slasher-movie-guy convince her new - boss? - that chopping her legs off were the best course of action.
<tubes|Slither> "I don't know...They were, um, kind of mad, but not /that/ mad, and said I could...," She swallows, remembering the conversation, "Keep them until they stopped working, then she later said she'd keep them fixed up...I didn't see much of her after that. They sort of gave me an offer to join, and offered to be friends once, and then she said we were even but," She stops, realizing she's
<tubes|Slither> rambling, and gives a half hearted shrug, " I only got to meet the guy in charge once, and he didn't look that great. And he wanted me to restart the Brotherhood. Which is probably not going to work. As you saw."
<tubes|Slither> Really acing this job interview, champ.
<tubes|Slither> The prospect of not being able to walk again loomed dark on the horizon, if Abby decided she didn't want to do maintenence after all, but she was going to put that off as long as possible...it's not like she hadn't dealt with it before. She was going to enjoy this while she could. If anyone was really going to let her enjoy anything. That wasn't looking very likely in the near future. ||
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<Teller|GM> "Did he explain why he wanted you to restart the Brotherhood?" Snowdrop asks. ||
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<tubes|Slither> She fiddles with the material of her skirt, thinking.
<tubes|Slither> "Not...really. I mean, I can kind of guess? He said that he was the one who'd convinced Seachange to do a bunch of this stupid stuff to begin with, so I guess he has some kind of master plan in mind,"
<tubes|Slither> And the other thing also occurs to her, if Schyuler did have some kind of master plot, his angle on Claire was pretty obvious. She supposes if she doesn't say it, then Eight Hundred will. Claire lets out a sigh.
<tubes|Slither> "...and better for them to have me in charge, with my legs, than letting Seachange get back in charge." ||
<-> FaustAndAbout is now known as Faustus
<-> Thaliaway is now known as Thalia
<Teller|GM> Snowdrop gives her a small smile, but there's no happiness in it. "Yes. It sounds like he wants a villain he controls running the Brotherhood. And - as long as he controls Abby and she controls whether you live or die - he /does/ control you."
<Teller|GM> She studies Claire. "What will you do?" ||
<tubes|Slither> Damn it, why does everyone keep asking her what she wants to do? Didn't Snowdrop's fancy power very clearly show her that she had absolutely no idea what she wanted to do? Claire runs a hand through her hair, thinking, idly wondering if she could grow it back out now that there was no chance of getting it caught in a wheelchair or something.
<tubes|Slither> "...I don't know. Using your power told me I don't know. I don't...I don't think I can run the Brotherhood like he wanted. People barely know i'm a cape, much less a scary supervillain that they need to fear and respect and pay homage to, or whatever. And your friend here says I can't join you unless I let him hack off my legs."
<tubes|Slither> She wasn't really keen on letting someone hack off her legs, especially with a tinker-bomb in them. She'd been so happy to be able to walk again she hadn't really been thinking about it, nobody at the Keepers had even mentioned it since they'd, well, kind of had justifiable reason to...but they were basically a time bomb, weren't they? Of course the Keepers wouldn't have reason to mention
<tubes|Slither> it. Claire can't even pick a proper devil to make a deal with. She's done so many things wrong as of late she can't even bring herself to get upset about this one.
<tubes|Slither> "I guess...I guess I have to go talk to Schyuler." Because you got out of deals that easily, right? The Keepers had all those other shady people at their base, so it clearly wasn't as hard as it seemed...maybe, maybe she could be a hero? Assuming Superstition didn't decide to be a bitch again. Ugh.
<tubes|Slither> If he hadn't keeled over in his bed. She's really wondering how some random corporate dude ended up like that - what had Superstition called it, 'bad fish'? - but figures she's probably better off not knowing.||
<Teller|GM> "What will you talk to him about?" Snowdrop queries. ||
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<tubes|Slither> "Tell him it's not going to work? Hope he doesn't have me blown up?" She puts her head in her hands, feeling about as pathetic as she could possibly get.
<tubes|Slither> Yeah, great plan. She'd already made a fool of herself in front of them, she supposes it doesn't matter if she keeps going with that trend.  How on earth was it that she'd ended up intertwined in so many bizzare schemes, and people were still asking for her input as though she had some clue what was going on or what to do.
<tubes|Slither> "...I don't know what the fuck to do. Please tell me what to do. All I wanted to do was get away from this one asshole, and now i've got superpowers and I'm a wanted supervillain, and everyone keeps asking me questions like I've got some clue what's going on. "
<tubes|Slither> Ahhh, there it was. 100% rock bottom. No way to dig any deeper now. ||
<Teller|GM> ((Social roll, please.))
<tubes|Slither> $roll 1d6+1 social
<[ATM]> tubes|Slither "social" [6] +1 = 7
<Teller|GM> "Very well," Snowdrop says, then glances to her right. "Katja?"
<Teller|GM> Katja hesitates, then nods. "Okay. I'll be back down in thirty minutes to an hour."
<Teller|GM> She walks over to the stairs, then gives Claire a final cautious glance before ascending.
<Teller|GM> "You'll have some guidance soon, Slither," Snowdrop says. Her voice lowers slightly. "In order for this to work, however, you're going to have to trust Katja and listen to what she tells you to do /without question/. Can you do that?" ||
<tubes|Slither> Sure. Why not. It couldn't possibly do a worse job of running her life than she was.
<tubes|Slither> "...Alright."
<tubes|Slither> She finally says, nervously running her hands through her hair. SHe wants to take off her mask and just rub her face, but the thing veneer of her costume is pretty much the only thing keeping her from running out the door screaming. Or having another nervous breakdown. Or both.
<tubes|Slither> It was probably a bit late to be asking but..."Um, what kinds of things does she normally say to do?" She'd just done it again, hadn't she? Made one more deal to shove off the burden of deciding things for herself? What did one more even matter at this point? ||
<Teller|GM> "That's a question," Snowdrop points out. Eight Hundred snorts. ||
<tubes|Slither> "Er, um..." She decides to just stop talking and sit there. She'd had some pretty good practice at sitting there. Snowdrop has said all that fancy stuff about being a protector earlier, right? She wouldn't just throw it all out because of Katja's weird power? ||
<Teller|GM> "You are allowed to ask me questions, however," Snowdrop says. Claire thinks she detects a hint of kindness in her voice. "I've learned what I want to about you. What do you want to know about me? About Think Tank?" "Of course, if you're resigned enough to not have any questions," Snowdrop adds, gesturing to the television set. "There's a remote in the seat
<Teller|GM> next to you. We get two hundred and sixty four channels." ||
<Teller|GM> ((*ed))
<Teller|GM> "You are allowed to ask me questions, however," Snowdrop says. Claire thinks she detects a hint of kindness in her voice. "I've learned what I want to about you. What do you want to know about me? About Think Tank?"
<Teller|GM> "Of course, if you're resigned enough to not have any questions," Snowdrop adds, gesturing to the television set. "There's a remote in the seat next to you. We get two hundred and sixty four channels." ||
<tubes|Slither> Was that a lot? She's not even sure. She's definitely waaaay behind on her soaps at this point. It was too intimidating to think about.
<tubes|Slither> "No, I, um," she starts, but her voices falters.
<tubes|Slither> Claire clears her throat and takes sip of the water, trying to regain her composure and calm herself. It was a done deal. Stop thinking about it.
<tubes|Slither> "...How did you all meet? Why...why Sicol Bend, now?" Deep-Six was still out there, somewhere. The boogeyman, except this time he'd rolled into the Protectorate headquarters and walked back out with whatever he wanted, no questions asked. The Protectorate was scary, but Deep Six might as well have been an Endbringer for all it mattered to her. Better to just get out of the way than even
<tubes|Slither> contemplate a fight.
<tubes|Slither> Wait, she was a cape now. Did that mean she had to fight Endbringers? Nope, nope, nope, not thinking about that one. ||
<Teller|GM> "The Eight Hundred and I met in Queens, several months after I gained my powers," Snowdrop says. "I was considered something of an upstart in that area, and the group he worked with at the time opposed me."
<Teller|GM> "She was encroaching on our turf, and she didn't take us for drinks and ask nicely like she did you, either," Eight Hundred - The Eight Hundred? - says.
<Teller|GM> "Happily, he came around to my way of seeing things," Snowdrop says. "New York proved too difficult to hold, even with the backing of The Eight Hundred, so we made our way west. Katja came to us in Iowa. She's a young woman who appreciates consistency, and I can give that to her."
<Teller|GM> "Katja identified Sicol Bend as a possible location for us to settle down," she finishes. "There's little entrenched competition here other than the Wolves, and I believe Deep-Six is not a threat to us. Further, his coalition and the Brotherhood have primed the city and its residents for our presence." ||
<tubes|Slither> New York? Jeez. They've come a long way to do...whatever it was they were going to do. Rule the city, apparently. Well, they hadn't dissapeared anyone 'offensive' yet, so there was that.
<tubes|Slither> "Well...you already know everything about me, apparently."
<tubes|Slither> Even if some of it was from some weird paralell dimension or something.
<tubes|Slither> "Erm, if you don't mind me asking...is it 'Eight Hundred' or '/The/ Eight Hundred'. You said you were, um, destructive..." ||
<tubes|Slither> ((insert question mark))
<Teller|GM> "The Eight Hundred," he says. "Eight Hundred for short. I haven't met a person yet who can stop me when I get going." ||
<tubes|Slither> That was a pretty big claim, especially with Deep Six in town. "What do you do?" ||
<Teller|GM> He just grins. "I grow big enough to throw this house, is what I do."
<Teller|GM> "Don't exaggerate," Snowdrop says.
<Teller|GM> "Fine," he says. "I could sure as hell knock it over, though." ||
<tubes|Slither> That was actually pretty impressive. She could think of some strong people, sure, but there was something to be said for sheer size. That seemed more useful than just being a really dangerous, creepy snake, if she was being honest.
<tubes|Slither> "...Wow," she says, duly impressed. "Why 'The Eight Hundred', if you get really big?" ||
<Teller|GM> "The proverbial eight hundred pound gorilla," The Eight Hundred says, leaning back farther into the couch. He seems happy to talk. "The one that nobody fucks with. You know that joke - where does an eight hundred pound gorilla sit?" ||
<tubes|Slither> ??? Did Gorillas even get that big? I mean, if you were that big, where would you even...ohhhh. "A-Anywhere it wants to?"
<tubes|Slither> Man, that was a way better name than Slither.
<tubes|Slither> "...that's way better than my name." ||
<-> FaustAndAbout is now known as Faustus
<Teller|GM> He shrugs. "Better than Dice or Butcher Queen."
<Teller|GM> There are footsteps on the staircase, and Katja comes into view. She leans on the banister as she descends. Snowdrop stands up. "That wasn't thirty minutes. Are you okay?"
<Teller|GM> "I'm fine," Katja says, but she looks and sounds exhausted. "It was just...quicker than expected."
<Teller|GM> She gives Claire a look that's almost, but not quite, a glare. ||
<tubes|Slither> She stifles an "eep". Not the best reaction. From the way everyone's acting, was quick bad? She'd told Snowdrop she'd do what Katja said, but, that wasn't a good sign, was it? Oh, man...||
<-> Camtist|GM is now known as Camtist
<-> Lid|Drop is now known as Lid
<Teller|GM> "You died. A lot," Katja says flatly. "Blown up, mostly."
<Teller|GM> She brushes what looks like a bit of wood out of her hair. "So...don't go back to the Keepers. Stay here for the night, at least."
<Teller|GM> "Should we cut off her legs?" The Eight Hundred asks.
<Teller|GM> "Don't think she gets blown up if she stays here," Katja says carefully. "But all those shallows are a day or more out of sync, so..."
<Teller|GM> That obviously means something to Snowdrop, who nods. ||
<tubes|Slither> Claire's jaw drops. Er, what? The thing with 'Dice' had seemed somewhat uncertain, but this time, she seemed pretty sure. Well, she didn't need any convincing from Snowdrop to follow those instructions.
<tubes|Slither> "I, uh...,"
<tubes|Slither> This time it's not nervous, but a legitimate loss for words.
<tubes|Slither> I, uh, didn't think she'd...really do it. Do you know-," She starts to ask a question, but then remembers Snowdrop's instructions, and closes her mouth. She kind of thought she'd manage to settle that problem, mostly. Apparently not.
<tubes|Slither> "Um, uh...thanks?" Claire finally manages to get out. ||
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<tubes|Slither> ((REDACT "Um, uh...thanks?" Claire finally manages to get out.))
<Teller|GM> Katja looks at the collected group. "I'm...going back upstairs to lie down."
<Teller|GM> "Nobody answered my question," The Eight Hundred complains.
<Teller|GM> "If Slither wants to keep them, I don't think cutting them off is necessary at this point," Snowdrop says, with a sidelong look at Claire. ||
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<tubes|Slither> She never thought the question of 'would you like to keep your legs or be blown up' would actually be a question she'd have to answer one day. "I, uh...."
<tubes|Slither> She finds her determination to keep her legs at all costs for as long as possible wavering in the very real possiblity of being blown to smithereens.
<tubes|Slither> "Um...What was that bit, about, um, 'sync'? Does she usually have a...margin of error? Like, um, the Dice thing?" ||
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<Teller|GM> "As I said earlier, she sees things as they might have been," Snowdrop says. "Alternate presents. For her to see something that hasn't happened yet, the future event she's trying to see would have to transpire earlier in the reality she witnesses. So that version of you is out of sync with this version of you, so to speak."
<Teller|GM> "Knowing what might have been is a good indicator of what still might be, but it's not one hundred percent correct." ||
<tubes|Slither> "So I would have had to do whatever it was that got me blown up earlier..."
<tubes|Slither> She's not sure what she could have done differently that would have made that happen. Maybe instead of running into Snowdrop, she goes back to the Keepers Headquarters and does something to piss off Abby? Claire still doesn't know what that would be, though. Is it something that could be set off by accident? That was probably worse, actually.
<tubes|Slither> She imagines that if she cuts off this pair of legs she's unlikely to get another set. I mean, the first set didn't work that great, but it seemed like an important difference between having some legs that didn't really work and no legs at all. Even if it really wasn't.
<tubes|Slither> "Well, if she doesn't think they're going to go off tonight...I'd like to avoid, um, removing, them as long as possible." Tinkertech stopped working eventually anyway, right? Damn it, this was all such a mess. ||
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<-> Zene is now known as Zene|AFK
<Teller|GM> "That's fine," Snowdrop says. "They are your legs, after all."
<Teller|GM> "That said, we just go this house, so..." The Eight Hundred says. "Mind sleeping out in the hammock tonight, just in case?" ||
<Teller|GM> ((*we just got this house))
<-> Faustus is now known as Faustus|Ivo
<tubes|Slither> Slither begins to think of a retort, then thinks better of it. It was a safe-ish gamble, but still a gamble. There could be some kind of Tinker nuke in there. Ugh. "...yeah, okay."
<Teller|GM> ((||?))
<tubes|Slither> ||
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<Teller|GM> |||
<Teller|GM> ((Wits roll please, tubes|Slither. Awareness applies.))
<tubes|Slither> $roll 1d6+1 wits
<[ATM]> tubes|Slither "wits" [3] +1 = 4
<Teller|GM> ((Don't you have Awareness?))
<tubes|Slither> ((whoops))
<Teller|GM> ((You can just throw another d6+1))
<tubes|Slither> $roll 1d6+1 wits
<[ATM]> tubes|Slither "wits" [4] +1 = 5
<Teller|GM> Claire feels herself waking up. Think Tank's hammock is expansive and comfortable, and the night was warm enough that she only needed a light blanket. The blanket also served to cover up her costume, to avoid anyone wondering why there was a mummy sleeping in their neighbor's backyard.
<Teller|GM> It's early morning now. She could have sworn that someone was shaking her awake, but maybe she had dreamed it? It feels like someone's lurking just out of her sight, waiting, but she's felt like that ever since her paranoia has been amped up. ||
<Teller|GM> ((*paranoia was amped up))
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<tubes|Slither> Claire is a bit groggy at first, but then the paraonia kicks in and her eyes snap wide open, darting around, before she remembers where she is and tries to settle down. Was it good or bad that she was getting used to waking up in strange places? That feeling...she tries to just attribute it to whatever Superstition did to her. Which would hopefully go away soon. Because she definitely
<tubes|Slither> wasn't paranoid at all normally. That is also definitely not the reason she was getting out of the hammock, casting a careful eye around. Early to bed, early to rise, and all that. Definitely the reason.
<tubes|Slither> Claire gets out of the hammock, casting a careful eye around. Just in case. ||
<Teller|GM> ((Ath and Dex roll, please.))
<-> Antioch is now known as Antioch|GM
<-> Nonagon is now known as Non|Nachzehrer
<tubes|Slither> $roll 1d6 ath
<[ATM]> tubes|Slither "ath" [6]  = 6
<tubes|Slither> $roll 1d6 dex
<[ATM]> tubes|Slither "dex" [4]  = 4
<Teller|GM> Claire has a surprising amount of difficulty climbing out of her hammock, far more than she had climbing into it last night. The strings almost seem to fight her. Once she's managed to extricate herself, she finds that the blanket is still wrapped around her wrist - and then she feels a light but distinct tug in the direction of the fence. ||
<tubes|Slither> ((by the blanket))
<Teller|GM> ((Yes.))
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<tubes|Slither> Oh jesus, oh jesus, that was a power, power for sure. Crap, crap crap crap. Really, is it still called paranoia if you're always right?? Claire switches to snake-form and tries to shred the blanket off her wrist and back away slowly, claws at the ready.
<tubes|Slither> "Who's there?!" She tries to avoid straight up shouting and waking up the neighbors, but she's pretty spooked. If they'd wanted to attack her in her sleep, they could've ||
<Teller|GM> She flickers into her snake form and slashes herself free of the offending fabric. It falls forlornly to the grass.
<Teller|GM> "Hey, shh. Chill," she hears from the other side of the fence. It takes her a second for her to place it as Superstition. "It's just me." ||
<Teller|GM> ((*takes her a second to place it as))
<tubes|Slither> Claire relaxes for a moment. Wait, no, why should she relax at that? Superstition had made her distaste clear last time time, and was on  board with the whole "make Claire queen of the brotherhood", stupid as it was, so she was probably just as shady as the rest of the Keepers, come to think of it. She changes back out of her snake-form, wary of being seen, but doesn't let her guard down
<tubes|Slither> or move closer.
<tubes|Slither> "...what do you want?" ||
<Teller|GM> "To talk," she says. She's still mostly out of sight, but Claire catches a glimpse of black through the gaps in the fence, near the bottom. ||
<tubes|Slither> "um..
<tubes|Slither> About?" ||
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<Teller|GM> "This. You. Getting into cars with strangers, shacking up with Snow White." ||
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<tubes|Slither> Oh, now she was concerned. "...I'm sure you're here to warn me all about stranger danger? Should I go find an adult? Maube a guy named Nate?" ||