The Lovely Dark

  MAGICIAN fuyuko matsui There’s not another road for you than this. I’m so sorry. Starting Equipment: specially tailored clothes, a letter of termination Skills : 1) theoretical physicist 2) paranoid clerk 3) corporate striver 4) lab animal 5) fugitive Templates A) Katalepsis, Graveyard Girl // Kataleptic Limit 5 B) Down the Wolf's Throat // +2 Parasitic Tombs, Kataleptic Limit 10 C) The Dark Dark House // +2 Parasitic Tombs, +1 Appetite, Kataleptic Limit 15 D) Dogsbody // +2 Parasitic Tombs, +1 Appetite,  +1 Haunt,   Kataleptic Limit 20 ∆) Vers La Flamme Katalepsis rothko They drill the hole at the nape of your neck. There’s a tap that keeps the fluid in, but lets the membrane extrude. It’s agony the first time, but you get used to it. An invisible worm, a questing tongue. As you flex and feed it, it expands into a cobra hood of tangled false-nerves and alien mucus-slick. You can’t touch it, but you can feel it coming out of you. You can’t see it, but under ultrav

  ULTRAREALITY Moebius The Rainmouth Corporation Tomorrow Tomorrow Tomorrow Tomorrow Tomorrow Tomorrow Tomorrow Tomorrow Stupid fucking blood gargling battery slaves. You don’t know what you’re sticking your fingers in. It’s not another universe, or outer space, or the noosphere, or a dream or a vision or a fantasy. It’s not anywhere but anywhere but here. It’s not anywhere but here. It’s another road, another way OUT. It’s OUT THERE, but you can see it from IN HERE. They’re touching each other. A one-way road still goes two directions. I can explain it, I promise. Look: even before Brass-Born Shah invented the microscope, you were still crawling with tiny little freaks. They’ve always been there. These guys have always been there too. They’re not tiny they’re invisible, intangible, undetectable. They’re eating you but you can’t tell, because they aren’t taking away something you know how to miss. They’re OUT THERE, but they can come IN HERE. They can come in here. Substance tha

A Family of Evil Swords by muckngabe The Eight Remain are wicked spirits of devious inclination. They were a family of people once, but ghosts do not retain a human ipseity for very long. They collapse into other, stranger things. Sometimes a person is like a tool of murder, and a family is like an armory.  Each will serve you for a night and a day, in exchange for proper propitiation. You wield their manifest form as a weapon, in your off-hand. There are no penalties for fighting with two weapons this way. Once one of the Eight has left you, it is prohibitively rude to call on it again until you have called on another of its family first. You call on them at their secret place, in an empty house on a high hill in the dark dark wood. Fireflies dance by night. Leave their offering in a place special to them– in the hearth ash, down the well, in the back of the big dark closet (don't look). Turn around, close your eyes, hold your breath. Count to three. You're armed. Butcher-Bi