conversations: human
conversations:  Game is officially started! See the  OOC  for more info.
conversations: Grek:
conversations: human
conversations:  Reserved for maps, index, etc.
conversations: Grek:
conversations: human
conversations:  Let me guess; XeroChem=Rats.
  
  Anyway, what do we do first?
conversations: GreyStormcrow:
conversations: human
conversations:  Marcus stares at his phone.  What did XeroChem want with an ex-pro athlete?  If they wanted someone to promote some new supplement there were more family-friendly choices than him.  Maybe it was experimental and dangerous, so they wanted someone expendable?  The idea they wanted someone who was down so they would have a bigger success story by lifting them up never really formed.  He started to send a text to his agent, then remembered he had fired him months ago, then replied to the message directly, asking when they would like to see him.  Then on to something more important.  It had taken a while to learn how kids did this, but he managed to search social media for addresses to find individuals who lived in Skulls-controlled neighborhoods, people who would talk about what they saw going on as it happened, not wait 12 hours for a watered-down news story.  His bat, vest and javelins were in the front closet, waiting for him.
conversations: Rhyvurg:
conversations: human
conversations:  An owl landed nearby and gave Nemesis a welcome.  "Who indeed, my friend. Who, indeed ..."  High above the late-night street traffic Nemesis crouched on the ledge of Lucas Tower, a 100-story monolith that seemed to hover over the city. Night winds whispered past her as the investigator studied the glittering spires of the city. She had a lot on her mind tonight ---
  
  --- one, the names of the cops who set her up ---
  
  --- two, the name of the mobster or corrupt cop who controlled how city cops handled mob investigations ---
  
  --- three, the name of the most powerful person in the city, whether mobster or politician. Nemesis would spend the next week shaking down whoever she had to to get the answers she wanted. She'd pay 'the right people' a visit - always at night and always an unpleasant encounter for them.
  
   
   Spoiler: Investigation checks 
  
   (1d20+10)[ 30 ] 
   (1d20+10)[ 11 ] 
   (1d20+10)[ 16 ] 
   
conversations: Conaldar:
conversations: human
conversations:  Rhyvurg: A receptionist pleasantly asks you to come to the XeroChem Experimental Clinic at 2pm tomorrow. The address is on the top floor of a large office building in Manhattan. Searching social media is unproductive until you hit on a counterinuitive idea: go check the page for the top lieutenants in the Skulls, then comb through their followers. Soon enough, you have a long list of people who are involved with the Skulls.
  
  Conaldar:
  You know the names of the two were there with you that night: Sam and Sal Sturm. Twins, both joining the force the same year. You know their faces (almost the same between them - pale eyes and bright red hair - but Sal's got a scar on his left ear from a knife fight), their favourite drink (rum and coke, easy on the coke), what size shoe they wear (14w). You were friends, once upon a time, or so you thought. Finding them would be too easy.
  
  You've tried to work this one out before, but it's just never quite clicked. Who could be in a position to control all the mob investigations, even across the different boroughs? It just doesn't make sense. You're close enough to taste the answer, but its just not coming to you.
  
  The most powerful person in the city is obviously the Mayor. Elected in on promises to fight crime and following up with the passage of the H.E.R.O. law, Ruth C. Gulia is one of the most powerful women in the state. In public appearances, she's never seen without a pair of bodyguards in high grade body armour and discreetly holstering some sort of laser pistol. No scandals so far, but there's always the specter of vigilantism lingering over her head. She's the one that made it legal, after all.
conversations: Grek:
conversations: human
conversations:  Conaldar (reroll):
  You run it over once more in your head. Organized Crime Investigation are just grunts, they don't call the shots. There's also Gang, Narcotics and Proliferation Divisions for each precinct, but none of them deal with organized crime as a whole. Somebody has to be doing the coordination between them, and that somebody would be in the right position to set you up. Stuck you in with two corrupt cops on the night you were supposed to do the bust. Its not proof by a long shot, but its means and opportunity.
conversations: Grek:
conversations: human
conversations:  Marcus reads the list five times, then checks for where some of the low-level thugs might be tonight.  Clubs they frequented, women they visited often, anywhere he might catch them off guard.  He had to work his way up, attacking a lieutenant now would mean fighting his army.  But take out the army first, piece by piece, and the leaders would be alone.  And who knew what he might be able to get that he could use.
conversations: Rhyvurg:
conversations: human
conversations:  Rhyvurg:
  Marcus finds a popular dance club where some of the younger recruits party. Based on the pictures, you can expect terrible beer, glow in the dark skeleton body paint and a whole lot of unregistered firearms. You'll want backup if you're going to pick a fight at this establishment.
  
  GreyStormCrow:
  Rags and Tatters hear quite a bit:
   strange abductions (13; 1 degree of success) 
  "Well, I wasn't abducted or anything, but I heard nobody's seen Ted around. He dead, man?"
   new gang (19; 2 degrees of success) 
  "Yeah, them, man! Look here, you see that bruise? They beat the [bleeping][bleep] out of me! Wanted to know about Ted. [bleep][bleeping][bleepers]. All I know is, he used to live under this [bleepity] overhang and now the [bleep] is soaking wet and he ain't [bleeping] there no more."
   rats (25; 3 degrees of success) 
  "Listen here, this is what I saw... There was this rat, right? Ran after a motorcycle, trying to get onto it. Bite the guy. No clue why, it was the freakiest thing I ever saw. Motorcycle splattered it right in two. Normal rat, it'd be dead, you know? No coming back from getting your hind end and your whatsit, other end, split in two. But this one, both parts kept trying to attack the motorcycle! Bit the guy on it up real bad until he wrapped it up in a jacket, so it couldn't keep fighting. Took it off. Some suit, not the sort that rides a hog, you know? Weirdest thing. Swear I saw it, too. I was having a good day, Rags. No voices, nothing."
conversations: Grek:
conversations: human
conversations:  Marcus pulls on his vest and a jacket over it, and grabs the bat and javelins.  No need to attack tonight, but he at least wanted to get a look at the place.  He heads downstairs to his garage sublevel, putting his weapons in the trunk.  He memorizes the address but doesn't ask for a route, then turns off his phone and dives out.  He doesn't go directly to the club, instead looking for a parking structure at least 5 blocks away, somewhere far enough that they wouldn't look for him there if something happened.
conversations: Rhyvurg:
conversations: human
conversations:  I have decided that this campaign was a unpleasant mistake and am discontinuing it. I wish you the best of luck finding a new GM.
conversations: Grek: