>>4209613
>You are an Origami Man. Your body is composed of invulnerable paper, and you can fold these into shapes like ducks, paper airplanes, and boats, and attaining qualities of the things you mimic. Though others may mock you, they are just as unaware as you are of the potential of your abilities.

>>4209613

You are an Origami Man. Your body is composed of invulnerable paper, and you can fold these into shapes like ducks, paper airplanes, and boats, and attaining qualities of the things you mimic. Though others may mock you, they are just as unaware as you are of the potential of your abilities.

>>4209613
> You are a Siphonophore Man, possessing the ability to swap body parts with other Siphonophore Men. You can buy them, too. Some of them are even grown in vats. Centuries of genetic engineering allows you to purchase and equip strange new organs with diabolical uses!

>>4209613
>You are an Anemone Man. Instead of hair, stinging tentacles cover your scalp, chest, shins and forearms. People avoid you but you're glad this means you won't ever get mugged. You're also amphibious, which is useful in some neighbourhoods.

>>4209622

Siphonophore Man let's go!!!

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4209622
>>4209631
>>4209653
>>4209746
Rolling...

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>>4210034
You are Warwick. While people in other neighborhoods are of flesh and blood, you are of paper. Well, most say it's not like paper because it doesn't burn or get wet as easily. It also heals very, very quick, and you bleed blue glue. Maybe you're just skin and blood. You don't know how your body works, and neither do your ancestors. But that doesn't matter.

You've always known these things aren't worth worrying about because the way to be happy and prosperous is by always focusing on the task at hand. Speaking of which, you are trying to remember the name of the company at which you work.

In your world, political divisions are smaller than the city - far, far smaller - so you could walk across the street and find yourself in a whole 'nother country. You walk across a long stretch of ruined buildings, and see squatters moving in the overgrowth. You have never ceased to be impressed by the perseverance of these people. They will build their homes anywhere, as the echoing under the drains suggest.

Since you lost your job as a paperplane courier and contact with your last friend, Toketsu Kazemahou, with the advent of telephones, last week you signed up as a bounty hunter under the:

> Police Company

> Justice Inc.

> Mitra Corporation

> Write-In

>>4210050
>> Mitra Corporation

>>4210050
>Police Company

>>4210050
> Justice Inc.

>>4210050
>Police Company

>>4210050

>Police Company

>>4210050
> Mitra Corporation

>>4210050
Police Comp

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>>4210055
>>4210069
>>4210082
>>4210468
> Police Company

Ah, that's it! You head down a street that is in relatively pristine condition. There is no liquefaction, no ivy, no trees bursting through the pavement. There's just a busted fire hydrant that functions as a fountain. Standing foremost is a towering brick building connected to the garage. From the shining sign suspended over some reinforced windows, you know that you have arrived at the headquarters of the trusty Police Company, whose office is apprehending criminals with everything they have at their disposal. Regulations are scarce and government funds are low (gee you wonder why), so it's more of a volunteer effort by the community to gather as much skills, science, and sorcery in the war against crime.

You greet your colleagues in the men's changing room. Being made of paper neither genders seem to mind which one you go to, you just prefer the company of men to women. The changing room is nothing except a place for small talk. You don't need to wear clothes so you bring out your felts and draw the uniform all over yourself. It's not permanent, you can just absorb that by the end of the day.

So long as the markings aren't magical, you can erase them just like you can unfold your body from the humanoid shape you usually take. In the week you've been here all you've done is blast away at the firing range and train at the obstacle course, both of which are at the local park. Children sometimes join you. You curse your lack of funding.

"What's up, Warwick?" someone greets you.

His name's Dendar Oripse. He looks mostly human save some parts of his body are made of wood. He has leaves instead of hair. He is much, much older than you. Beside him is Chalto Leng, a Satyr who spends all his earnings on booze and hookers.

"Morning, Dendar." you say over a swig of coffee. It spills over you, which was funny to everyone else in the first three days, but you absorb all its nutrition and colour into your body. "So, what have we got here..."

You still use dial-up connection but the internet is where all the arrest warrants are uploaded. Given that there's only eight computers in the whole building and they cost more than the building itself, everyone is content to have them printed and stuck on the corkboard.

(Cont. in next post)

>>4211298
ARREST WARRANTS

As of now, you have $250 in your bank account. You currently live in a flophouse.

Some of the arrest warrants have notes from your boss. You don't remember his name.

> 4 Streetz, $600 (Multiple Avatars not accounted for) - Sentient Paradimensional Location, approach with great caution

> Yapefulu the Skinner, $500 - Last sighted at the overgrown remains of Quar Mall, in the carpark.

> DeeFlat, $250 - Last seen at Cacophony Music Store, Ferromutant Alraune (Pallraune) with connections to The Silver Skein Sisters.

> Silas Swarm, $400 - Last seen at Sewer Side Slum, Sapient Hive of Unnamed Insects, Crime Boss

> Pozellos Gremanzky, $500 - Last seen at the Archaeintraversal Cosmologeum, Tryslmaistan & Pastel Exhibition attempting to steal replica of the Trato-Yauronic Ray. Very slippy and very quippy.

> Racco Nareen, $300 - Male Arachne with curly blonde hair. Neotenous look. Married. That explains his proclivities! and a coupon for the local brothel to whoever catches this smarmy bastard, he stole my bounty three times! Last seen beneath Sewer Side Bridge.

> Smaragdine "Claw Hands" Uth, $300 - The name says it all. Go to the nearest railroad whorehouse you can find and I GUARANTEE you will find him there. Mark my words!

> Sashmon "Silver Screen" Cholerica, $400 - Very shiny. Really flamboyant. Derelict vestiges of Heddis-Nathbank Theater. Memetic abilities of unknown origin.

> May "Port-a-Potty" Lottie, $100 - A public nuisance. You've heard about her in the headlines. She's the reason plunger sales have gone up.

> Billy "The Block" Bronson, $100 - Leaves a trail wherever he goes. You'll know what kind when you see it!

> Strunzo Gakatta, $500 - Wields the power of the Beam of Remaking. Likes transformations. Esteemed member of a ring of mortal traffickers.

So, who'll you go after?

>>4211302

> Pozellos Gremanzky, $500 - Last seen at the Archaeintraversal Cosmologeum, Tryslmaistan & Pastel Exhibition attempting to steal replica of the Trato-Yauronic Ray. Very slippy and very quippy.

>>4211302
>Pozellos Gremanzky, $500 - Last seen at the Archaeintraversal Cosmologeum, Tryslmaistan & Pastel Exhibition attempting to steal replica of the Trato-Yauronic Ray. Very slippy and very quippy.

File: corkboard.png (432 KB, 688x374)

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>>4211302

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>>4211810
>>4211818
You decide to start big. Pozellos has been on every headline since you were little. Even if he's in a dimension with a slower time dilation, he has never aged in any photograph you have seen him. You conclude that he's immortal. Not to mention invulnerable to a great many things. Without further ado you are given your standard revolver, a bandolier full of cheap-ass shells, and set out into the unknown. But not without a partner. You're assigned the Tree-Man Dendar Oripse, who you consider your mentor.

The museum was once a steel and concrete fortress. Then it was renovated and refitted with the most ostentatious decor you could imagine. Art deco, a style which you've come to associate with people with too much money on their hands. Anyhow, the museum curator is fat, tan, human, and wears a very padded coat. He hails from a universe named Pastel, and is stuttering as though he's seen a ghost. "And-and-and he just phased through the display case. The security guard should have picked it up if it was magic but he must have been concealing it or something - he ran off with multiple samples of chatoyance, which is a form of matter fr-from where i'm from, yeah. Also he has the Trato-Yauronic device with him, for the love of Godan, please catch him!"

"Where did your guard say he went?" Dendar asks.

"W-well... He phased through the ground..." The curator responds.

"Excellent." Dendar says. "Bring us to the lowest point in your building."

You are taken to a shadowy exhibit full of upright slabs engraved with bas-reliefs. Dendar focuses very hard. He thanks the curator, leads you outside, and now you're trudging through the storm drains. Nobody's used it, so it's become a damp underground village for the past decade or so. You can't trace the movements of Pozellos, but you can ask someone here where he went!

> Teppenheimer Salvage Co.

> Malusse Quaff & Hookah Den

> Oryantle Auction House

> Sister Voruviate's Talismans and Charms

> Gnibal's Lethal Armaments

> Some guitarist busking on a rug

>>4212118
>Some guitarist busking on a rug
Tramps always see more and know more than you'd think.

>>4212256

+1

>>4212256
>>4212422

(Where did everyone who replied to the first two posts go? That must be my timezone.)

You question a young woman in black lipstick wearing nothing but several curtains and blankets. No doubt she also sleeps in them. She has messy, ungroomed feathers instead of hair and her skin is smudged with paint - they may have been markings some time ago but something washed them off. You greet her. "Um, hello ma'am."

She looks over her wide-brimmed straw hat. Though she doesn't respond. So you ask "You seen a tall man in a suit around here? Preferably someone who phased through the ground or wall or something?"

She seemingly ignores you, scribbling on a filthy glass pane with a permanent marker. Then she smashes it on the concrete before you, and you step back and watch. Is this divination? You think. Then you notice each shard contains a single symbol inside of it. Then she coughs before playing a few chords on her guitar. The glass shards point in one direction, and she points there. You thank her.

But then she scribbles in the mud. You retch upon seeing what she's drawn. None other than the horrid insignia of Voing-a-Ved Port! Then she simply points at a bridge. You pinpoint that on the map in your pocket.

"Are you sure we've got to go there?" you ask.

She nods. You groan.

Voing-a-Ved is the most unwholesome place you've ever been to. Melted-looking brown towers adorned with the gaudiest decorations you've ever seen - golden wind chimes and jewelled skulls, all paid with tax dollars, loom over depressing tenements. Everybody has at least one disease. You're glad you don't live there. You find the bridge; towering, pretentious, with its concrete columns covered with flaking silver and gold paint, clearly mostly made out of stolen furniture. This place makes you sick. Dendar leads the way down the muddy gully.

There he is. Pozellos Gremanzky and someone else exchanging suitcases. Unfortunately someone very authoritative-sounding barks over your shoulder. "Oi! Take one more step into our private property and I'll blast your 'ead off! Feckaff!"

Roll 1d100 to see how your option goes

> Fold yourself into paper plane and swoop down on Pozellos

> Fold yourself into paper plane and swoop down on the smuggler

> "But there are two illegal smugglers down there, and we are bounty hunters working on behalf of Police Company!"

> "No, you fuck off, you stodgy old twit! We're trying to make a living here!"

> Write-In

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>>4213262

Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>4213262

>> Fold yourself into paper plane and swoop down on Pozellos

>>4214027
It's time for his reign of terror to end. Since childhood you've known how to fold into many types of paper planes, but this one is among your favorites. This one sacrifices speed in exchange for mobility, which is perfect given the situation. Dendar attempts a diplomatic approach but is promptly cut short by two gunshots. No worries. He shrugs them off and draws a bead on the smuggler while you go after Pozellos. He soaks up the guard's bullets like sponge soaks water.

Pozellos is caught offguard as you ram into him. Then he whisks out a pair of scissors and scores your hide three times. The pain isn't debilitating and you manage to swoop over him. He trips over a busted TV and gets knocked into the river, which is more like a landfill sitting on a watery conveyor belt. Before he can drag you in, you reshape yourself into a boat.

You are indistinguishable from the flotsam and jetsam of the river. Dendar, having apprehended the smuggler, jumps on you and grabs a plank of wood which he uses as an oar. Then he dribbles a few roots from his leg into the water. "He's swimming... to the bottom of the bank?" He notices you and Dendar swimming after him. So he pulls a cloudy chunk of... well, something, and hurls it at you.

Everything speeds up and goes fuzzy. The particles in the river, the little grubs everywhere become super-fast rods, and by the time the cloud clears off you and Dendar are being nibbled on by herbivorous fungi. It's extremely irritating. So you dry yourselves off and shelter in a shitty little cafe for a while. The only good thing about diving in there is that you're less conspicuous, given the average denizen of Voing-a-Ved.

This was your chance, and you blew it. However, it's not as bad as you think. Dendar's stolen the Trato-Yauronic Bomb from Pozellos. And you know the effects of the time-distorting cloud that he threw at you. The smuggler is being picked up by the police, but sadly there isn't a bounty on his head. And even in this dingy dive where you hesitantly pour the water on yourself, there's a corkboard. An anonymous wizard stationed in a discrete location claims to know much on the matters of temporal anomalies and the universes which harbours them.

> Ask about the Trato-Yauronic Bomb (Return it to the museum)

> Ask about the Time-Distorting Cloud

> Ask about both of them (Consumes twice the time and gives Pozellos more opportunities to scheme)

>>4214172
>Ask about both of them (Consumes twice the time and gives Pozellos more opportunities to scheme)
Roll low?

>>4214249
(Oops, I forgot to mention that. Go for it.)

>>4215497
Nah, fuck it. Writing...

>>4214172
>>4215671
First: The replica of the Trato-Yauronic bomb. The curator thanks you profusely, bowing so much so that his toupee almost falls off. He re-adjusts it. You ask him "What's the big deal with the Trato-Yauronic Bomb? Ain't that just a replica?"

He replies "See, with the power of a Trato-Yauronic bomb not only can one cause immense destruction as it did on the universe of Tryslmaistan-"

Your old friend Kazemahou came from there. You listen intently. He continues "It creates an arc-duct, which is a universe combining the laws of physics of two dimensions."

"Like a portal?" You ask.

"On a much larger scale. A portal is merely a gateway - an arc-duct is a whole new universe melding the principles of the one it was detonated on and the one that it is aimed at."

"Aim? A bomb can't be aimed."

"This one can. It aims in a direction we can't see, into 5-dimensional space. It made the universe called Pastel, where i'm from."

He must have some incredible ambitions, to steal something with the potential to create a new universe! Pocket universes are quite expensive but this is quite some length to go. You thank the curator and go to the spooky alleyway to learn more about the mysterious Time-Distorting Cloud. After stepping over several hoboes and piles of unidentifiable fluid you find a reinforced door which you knock at.

It opens slowly and after a three-minute walk down a dark stairwell, you find yourself in the wizard's antechamber. Every surface is covered with clocks. He sits on a sofa and has an hourglass on his head. In a low, groaning voice he mumbles. "I know where he got it... There's a universe called Temprabullo. It is inhabited by humans who are biologically immune to what are known as the slow-storms and quick-storms. These weather events are marked by time distortion, where the processes of nature are slowed or quickened by them."

He continues "In a quickstorm a fungus might devour a carcass within seconds, and in a slowstorm rain will fall at a sluggish pace. Lighting will creep down from the skies like trickling sludge. In such concentrations, through methods unknown, it is collected and distilled into semi-corporeal powder. I once dealt in this stuff, and I know the one place where you can get it."

> Go out and directly investigate the slowpowder dealers

> "Why'd Pozellos want to make a new universe?"

> "Why'd Pozellos want slowpowder?"

>>4215719
>Go out and directly investigate the slowpowder dealers

>>4215719
>> "Why'd Pozellos want to make a new universe?"

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4216185
>>4216375
Rolling...

>>4218035
You thank the wizard and go out to where the slowpowder dealers are. You arrive at an abandoned warehouse where three men sit on a pile of pallets all covered in a tarp. There is a whirling portal embedded between two mattresses, and they are defending it with their lives. That must be the portal to Temprabullo. One of them has a flamethrower. Dendar isn't going to budge. He advises you "Pretty dark in here. And they must be bored with their job. How about you go slide across the floor?" Luckily, the floor is the same colour as you.

You accept his advice and slide across the floor as a flattened sheet. You move up the tarp, then refold yourself into a humanoid shape, aiming your gun at one of their heads. "You meet some lanky dude in a pinstripe suit? Pozellos Gremanzky?"

He freezes up. He knows his boss will have his hide for this. So he stammers "Him? Oh, yes, he was saying something about fighting somebody with sound powers, yeah."

Sound powers? You interrogate him further. "Anything more about his enemy?"

"Silver skin, bell-shaped hair, her lower half is a massive metallic flower..."

That's none other than DeeFlat! You leave the warehouse, but you don't know where she is. She has power over sound, but you assume she can do nothing more than blast people with powerful frequencies. Maybe the slowpowder Pozellos currently possesses has something to do with disabling them. According to data from the Police Company, she is either somewhere in

> Blackadder Street (Inhabited by wizards and thus extremely difficult to navigate. She lives here.)

> Muribelle's Diner (She eats her sometimes, mostly patronized by alraunes)

> Flipman Dive (Patronized by salvagers and impoverished hexers, she eats here most days)

> Oorizanthe Orchestral Emporium (Instrument store)

> Dollar Avenue Records (Record Store)

>>4218234
>Flipman Dive (Patronized by salvagers and impoverished hexers, she eats here most days)

>>4218454
You head on out of terrible Voing-a-Ved, several blocks away, and spiritually cleanse yourself of its awful soul-destroying effluvia. You decide to ruin somebody's dinner. Score! You think to yourself. Two bounties in one day! What a way to kickstart your career!

Flipman Dive is modest, like its one-to-two story commercial surroundings. A faded, orange facade with green-and-white awnings. There's a carpark in front of it, and one of them can be discerned as alraune-compatible (instead of seats there are humungous pits for flowerpots) so this DeeFlat must be relatively well off. Dendar goes in first and you follow through.

The place is full of salvagers who, when not dredging shit from the rivers that flow through Voing-a-Ved, feasting off Orichna wastefulness, are fighting over stretches of riverbank. They've formed crews who pool funds together to buy better dredging equipment and create bribes.

Many mages who are down on their luck - whether university dropouts or hedge wizards who at last realized the flowery traditions their tutors taught have scarcely any use in most practical applications, sit among them, miserably waiting for the day they'll strike it big. So great is the enmity between these crews that there is a veritable distance between every tablecloth.

DeeFlat is eating by herself. In front of her sits plate full of marshmallows and fudge. She tosses them into her mouth with chrome-plated vines. Question not the habits of alraunes. Pozellos is nowhere to be seen, but a crew takes note of you and draws five, six beads on you. "Gentlemen", Dendar says. "What's the matter here? Is there anything wrong with two friends coming here for lunch?"

"Hey!" their leader shouts. Green energy sparks between his fingers. "You're the moocher who thrashed the guard!"

"Yeah, and?" Dendar asks.

"Now he ain't taking our bribe no more! You're gonna pay for this, morning wood!"

That's a new one. He simply ignores them. ""

> Fold into paper plane (Soar across the place)

> Fold into flat sheet (Slide under carpet)

> Fold into shuriken (Embed yourself into DeeFlat)

> Fold into shuriken (Embed yourself into salvage crew leader)

> Fold into fan (Strong gust of wind)

>>4218828
>Fold into shuriken (Embed yourself into DeeFlat)

>>4220840
You fold yourself into a shuriken and toss yourself at DeeFlat. Successfully you embed yourself into her silvery shoulder and she starts to scream. Dendar simply lures their fire away from the rest of the patrons as the proprietor hides behind the counter. If it weren't for the noise you'd hear him quietly weeping. She picks up a bell, hits it as hard as she can, and all of a sudden she's trying to pry you out of her shoulder in the middle of a traffic island. There is a massive shootout going on in that dive and you have no intention of going in there before you've caught your first bounty.

All you want to know is what her beef with him is. When all fails she tries to slash you in half with a pair of scissors. They don't learn. Just about everyone you've fought has underestimated you this way. It leaves three scars that drip sticky blue blood. You perform the closest Origami-Man equivalent of a choke hold. Yet she ekes out: "Pozellos... he sent you, huh?"

"Quite the opposite!" You respond. And suddenly time slows down. Everything around you and DeeFlat moves at an astonishing rate. But you can only discern three new figures approaching - no doubt bounty hunters from another company.

- END OF SESSION -

>>4221031
Thanks for Running!

>>4221041
Thank you for playing!

Hopefully there are more recurring players next time. I must have been down on my luck.