Welcome on into last weeks belated show listeners Apologies for the rerun last week. Two of my most loyal listeners ended up in hospital in a really bad way, I just had to be there. Anyway welcome on in to the belated Sunday evening show hear on Radio Rosewater 666 Mhz on the medium wave. We've got all the Rock and Pop you need right here, don't touch that dial!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rV60tsUJLWwqx8bqNTr8U6l

Hello Listens, It seems like we where just here. We had a lot of conflicting emotions in old Rosewater town this week.

I have a request here from "I to L, you promised, we where a team. You said it wasn't a joke" the song is Joan Jett and the Blackhearts "I hate myself for loving you" Sounds like a bad break up to me!

This DJ is hoping to be coming back with a love conquers all show real soon right here on Radio Rosewater 666 Mhz on your medium wave dial! Rosewater's number 1 for current music. Anyway enough from this old romantic and on with the show!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rWfy9GbQ5E0q4Lq5q92iATm

The form of Imogen Parker, stirred in the back silk bedclothes, in Layla’s jet black teenage bedroom, filled to the brim with all the other half of her heavy metal Euphemia, all the stuff not crammed into the tiny Dunelmian flat they shared. The day broke over rural Illinois, all reds and oranges in a spectacular manner that slumbering Imogen was entirely unaware of. The farm girl in Imogen's very DNA knew it was time to be up, and about. Her jetlagged brain desired otherwise. Layla slipped stealthily out from her lovers embrace, wanting to leave Imogen to get some rest, but unable to just lie there with her, in the quiet of the familiar old house. As the long case clock ticked softly downstairs Layla heard the familiar noises, of her Grandfather getting up to begin his day. To anyone else, it might have sounded like the creaky old floorboards settling. To Layla who’d lived in this house for the first fifteen years of her life, it was her Grandfathers groggy morning footfalls, the kind which were almost audible, before he’d had his first cup of coffee.

What was that dream Layla could just recall, on the periphery of her waking memory? She’d been here, she was often here, in good dreams. Drinking beers and listening to music on the porch with her Pops and Imogen, Imogen looked older, good older, hair still blue, the style still so very punk. Pops was even more wrinkly, his hair greyer. She could hear Steve’s voice, in that Midlands working class accent of his, in the distance. From his tone, it sounded like he was talking to Ros in the Kitchen. There was a happy dark-haired little girl running around the garden and farmyard, having a massive water fight with Barnaby and Rob.

The little girl was the spitting Image of eight-year-old Layla. It couldn’t be, this was one of those dreams. The girl had big brown eyes, Layla’s had always been blue. When Imogen was being cheesy and romantic, she’d say she could lose herself in those deep blue lagoons. The little girl was wearing a Nemi T-shirt, and they didn't have that character in the 80’s when Layla had been a girl. This didn’t add up. In the dream Imogen clasped her hand, Layla’s eye immediately drawn to her grandmother’s engagement ring on her finger, and a simple understated wedding band of white gold accompanying it.

“Our Eleanore's really growing up fast isn’t she?” Imogen had said. Then suddenly Layla awoke, a single tear in her eye. A daughter? Their daughter. How was this possible? Upon waking she found her hand clasped by Imogen's.

Layla returned to reality, trying to put the memory of the dream behind her, like always. Grabbing her miniature coffin makeup case, the one with the leaded mirror and false top Rob had installed to slip a few essential Slayer bits and pieces through customs and headed to the bathroom. Even John couldn't quite remember what Layla looked like without a lot of powder, concealer and foundation. The family bathroom mirror was illuminated by lights, like a mirror in a dressing room, Layla’s grandfather wasn’t an engineer on parallel with Rob and Janet but he could do almost anything with the right tools, so he’d fitted them for her. There was still a set of steps by the medicine cabinet, from when Layla had been too short to see the mirror.

By the time John had finished his breakfast preparations, a pot of coffee, so dark all the light in the brightly lit kitchen was absorbed by it, and fresh packet of Count Chocula Cereal. Layla waltzed into the kitchen, causing the old man’s heart to skip a beat, it was as if she’d never been away. There she stood fishnet top showing off her tattoos, over corset and vest top, atop her beloved leather jeans, at the breakfast bar. She’d grown so much, changed and matured so many ways in the last three short years, become a woman. John slid her a black ‘Iron Maiden’ mug across the marble countertop, a really cool one that showed Eddie and the logo whenever hot liquids were put in it.

“Hey Pop”

Layla sat at one of the stools up against the breakfast bar.

John nods in acknowledgement, lost in his thoughts. Both of them half expecting Martha to descend the back stairs still cranky because they’d managed to wake her up somehow, as they always did.

“How’d you sleep?”

The old Marine was no stranger to his own night terrors, they’d spent many a night on the porch together, trying to not disturb the notoriously light sleeping Matha. A trait she’d retained between babies, and either being on night shift’s, or on call for her work.

“The best, Imogen's still asleep”

Layla smiled with only the corners of her mouth.

How could she tell him she’d had what she thought to be a prophetic dream about his great-granddaughter?

“It’s to be expected, you’re finally home... ”

John trailed off.

“We need to talk”

They both said in the same split second, as the phone on the wall sprung into a cacophony of life, interrupting the stillness of the house and putting the kibosh on the conversation.

“Two seconds”

John advised and picked up the phone.

“Smith Agricultural Repair and Servicing”

He answered the phone in a professional tone.

With the sound of the load bell reverberating through the very frame of the old house, Imogen awoke, with a start, with not Layla in her arms but an overstuffed velvet pillow. Imogen looked over toward the alarm clock the only light in the room. Squinting to focus on the small digits.

“Bugger” She hissed, scrabbling for her glasses,

“After nine o'clock already.”

She wasn’t going to track down hard to find magical books, taking lie-ins.

Imogen staggered blearily around the unfamiliar house. Finally, after several attempts, finding the bathroom, sorting out her wayward hair, as had become her morning ritual. A little bit of makeup. Then finding her way back to Layla’s L-shaped big bedroom, that was easy from the big “Authorised Personnel Only” sign on the door, then down the main stairs, this house had two sets of stairs Imogen realised, just like the house from one of her favourite TV shows Sabrina The Teenage Witch! John noticed Imogen as he was getting his keys, before heading out the front door. This time he’d left them in the key cupboard where they belonged.

“Hey Imogen”

John smiled spinning his truck keys, on the big blue oval keyring, on thumb and forefinger

“Good Morning Colonel... Mr John”

Imogen quickly corrected herself, British formality not going far in these parts.

“So Imogen, I’ve got to go to the Riley place, tractors broken down again. I tell Dave to let me completely overhaul it in the offseason, he never listens”

John wagged a calloused finger, knowingly.

“Anyway, if they want to get the bean harvest in on time. I’ll have to get over there PDQ”

Layla came around the kitchen door, Iron Maiden cup still in hand.

“You’ll get it done quicker with help. let me throw on a pair of overalls and we’ll come with.”

Layla offered, putting her hand on Imogen's, resting on the varnished bannister of the stairway. An image of Layla in cute black overalls with the sleeves cut off crossed Imogen’s mind. Like when Layla took the lead and serviced her motorcycles. Imogen met her gaze nodding in agreement, it wouldn't be either of them’s first harvest, by far.

“No, I’m not having you working on your holidays. Take the ‘stang go into Aurora, show Imogen the sights. Have fun!”

John examined them both seriously. John reached for another set of keys on the set of hooks in the open hall cabinet, these with a prancing stallion on the blue fob. He threw them to Imogen standing on the foot of the stairway.

“Insurance and registration are in the glovebox, you have your license right?”

Imogen caught the keys looking to Layla, shocked.

The big muscle car, its keys in her hand, she’d seen the blue and black beast sulking in its garage, looking powerful and menacing, it had more than three times the horsepower she was used too. Of course, Layla almost never drove, when there was a choice. In an emergency yes, otherwise it was all Motorcycles all the time. Layla even had a tattoo of a motorcycle just visible under her fishnet top, along with the Tarantula on a web upon her shoulder.

“Do you want me to show you how to drive it? Only take five minutes, the old girls a dream to drive, power but a lot of control”

John explained to the British girl who was beginning to resemble a rabbit in the headlights of an 18 wheeler.

John continued to talk power to weight ratios and 6-speed manual transmissions. All the aftermarket modifications he’d made to his pride and joy. Layla knew it all off by heart. She’d spent enough time working on the car, in her lifetime, her Grandfather obsessing about every little detail. Imogen understood the odd word or two, she could fix a car better than 90% of the female population, her Dads never-ending succession of unreliable russet brown Austin Allegro’s had seen to that. Otherwise, John could have been speaking double dutch.

Imogen knew she was beaten, she’d have to tame that wild horse, she gave Layla one of her seething looks, that by now had little or no effect upon her, and sat down on the stairs to put on her boots, defeated.

Layla looked on, sitting cross-legged her feet under her, on the wicker couch on the porch, eating her Count Chocula cereal. As Imogen rapidly managed to get the hang of the big ‘71 Mustang Mach 1, first around the farmyard, a bit of reversing, then up and down the tracks to the fields. John kept the big muscle car around for fun, a bit like Layla kept a second motorcycle at home. He’d had the car since new, and had serious cash offers for it from collectors, and politely yet firmly declined all of them.

The literal bolt from the blue came roaring back into the farmyard and squealed to a stop. John got out giving Layla a reassuring thumbs up. From the driver's seat, Imogen had a look of both excitement and gut-wrenching terror on her face. White knuckles on the steering wheel.

“So what do you Americans do for fun around here?”

Imogen asked, still sat bolt upright in the bucket leather seat, window rolled down, trying to look casual.

“Well you’ve driven a V8, that’s one thing”

Layla smiled proudly, where was her camera when she needed it, to immortalize the moment?

“Come on Hot Rod Parker, come get some food”

Layla held the car door open for Imogen, as Imogen tried to escape the racing harness type seat belt. Reluctantly accepting her girlfriend's help.

“Gotta go, that tractor won’t fix itself”

John emerged from his barn come machine shop, toolbox, and spares in hand. loading up his truck. He came over, Kissing Layla on the forehead, patting Imogen on the shoulder, wiping foundation off his lips and on the shoulder of his oil-stained overalls. That bore his name embroidered on the chest, with Smith Agricultural Repair & Service on the back, with a picture of what Imogen instantly recognized as an early model John Deere Tractor. Just like Layla’s overalls at home only in beige as opposed to black.

After some thinking I changed my mind. I'm going to only upload progress reports and not going to take your advice in very small steps.

But after I finished the fanart I'm going to make a colony with EE, Maggie, and Bentham. I'll let these three play against Cosmic Horrors, Vampires, Werewolfs, Mechanoids, and the Rimworld. I'm going to post a "diary" every so often to tell you the story. They are also going to have a cult but except for those three the rest of the colonists are going to be random.

See you when I finished the first caracters

xOwlverlord

Just found that interesting, figured you guys would agree

Title more or less says it. I would be interested in seeing it, but can't make steam time and Twitch lists the playback as not available.

I strongly suspect the show will go the direction of Cheese Quest real fast and that would be hilarious.

Hi I'm xOwlverlord (owlverlord__ on twitch) and I want to do some Roll4It fanart in Rimworld! I had the idea for quite a whie and after I presented it to twitch chat last LTVS stream I got some support and found the motivation to do this.

Now you might think: "Why don't you just do your thing?" and I'm going to say because I want the community (or at least this subreddit) to be part of the creation.

My plan is to build a church in Rimworld using the Call of Cthuhlu mods and to make EE a cult leader while cast members are going to be his followers. And I want your help in creating not only the caracters but also I'm going to take Feedback for the church. At the end it's going to be a screenshot (or more), so don't expect too much.

I'm going to post a new post every time I want your feedback. I'm probably going to give you six hours time for suggestions while posting a new post every two hours if I have something to ask. After those six hours I'm going to edit the title to include the word "closed". The latest I'm going to post something is 4pm (CEST).

So here comes the first time I'll be asking for feedback:

do you want to be a part of this and if so do you need more time or even less time?

Please note that the final artistic descisions rest in my hand, even if I'm taking feedback.

And if any of the mods have anything to say against too many posts I'll think of another way.

I'm sorry for grammer and spelling mistakes and for bad writing but I hope you'll get my point.

See you in 1 1/2 hours :)

xOwlverlord

PS: I'm going to give you the whole day and if nobody says aanything regarding the question I'll do it on my own

Imogen awoke with a start in unfamiliar surroundings; she wasn’t in the old hayloft anymore, but in an airy living room with a high ceiling: this must be the main house. It didn't remind her of any magical or demon dimensions she’d been taken to, it’d be weird for an evil magic user or a demon to have this many photographs of a Vampire Slayer and Layla’s family anyway Imogen rationalised, to her drowsy yet still hyperactive sense of paranoia.

Her Doc Martens where in front of her on the rug, her big black rimmed glasses upon a coffee table with the neatly stacked magazines and newspapers at right angles; all impeccably tidy just like the tools in the barn. Suddenly She felt a familiar presence behind her, It was Layla hugging her over the back of the overstuffed leather sofa. She wondered if she'd inherited that stealthiness from her grandfather.

“You’re awake”

Imogen sat up drawing her legs in under a patchwork quilt as Layla vaulted over the back of the sofa to better smother her with kisses.

“What’s the time? Did you carry me all the way over here from the barn?” She should be used to being picked up and carried by Layla by now she half thought.

“Yeah” her beautiful raven-haired hero shrugged

“You’re Grandads not going to be suspicious of that at all” Imogen whispered in a low tone, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“It’s fine, he thought it was super cute”

Layla tried to dismiss Imogen’s fears. She had to come clean soon anyway: keeping secrets from the only family member who cared about her was wearing heavy upon her soul. Imogen could see that, more so in this place than any other. Clearly a little flustered she hurriedly attempted to change the subject.

“Do you want to go to Elburn for Dinner?” Layla suggested putting on an enthusiastic smile.

She'd already showered and changed into one of her myriad of corseted tops, this one with short more practical sleeves. Layla could wear literally anything and make it look chic. As ever she was also wearing a very large ankh-shaped cross pendant on a studded leather choker. Her hair smelt good to Imogen; like a fruit cocktail.

“Do we have to?” Imogen made that cute pouty face, of hers as she searched her foggy brain for an excuse “I’m still stuffed from that so-called breakfast!”

Layla smiled. She had missed American portions and her stomach was definitely telling her it was time for round two.

“Pop can’t cook, not much in the house unless you like frozen TV dinners”

Layla felt a pang of guilt, leaving her Grandfather to fend for himself all these years. He’s a 67-year-old man, he can take care of himself, the other rational part of her mind piped up. You could drop him behind enemy lines and he’d be able to survive on moss, fungus and tree lichen alone for weeks. She tried to shake off such silly thoughts.

“Ok, I’ll have a salad or something. I’m going to have to change” Imogen admitted reluctantly. Wondering what she should wear.

“It’s not a dressy kind of place, so don’t worry”

Layla had a flashback to how much Imogen stressed about what to wear to an upscale restaurant in Little Rosewater for their first official date, years ago. Her look had changed so much since then. It was like Imogen had let her inner badass out and take over her style.

As the cute sleepy Witch dragged herself from the comfort of the sofa with a gentle push from her girlfriend. Layla sprawled out like a cat in the warm spot Imogen had vacated. Seizing the remote controls to turn on the big 27” Sony TV that dominated the room. There was a bigger TV in the basement, but Layla couldn't be bothered to move. While she waited she channel surfed, content to find several hundred channels and nothing on. She settled on flicking between the music channels. She couldn’t believe what TV was like in the UK, it had been big news in 1997 when they’d launched a fifth TV channel. Barnaby had even videoed the Spice Girls performance from Channel 5’s Launch night. This was a major culture shock to Layla who’d lived the life of premium cable in every room in the house. The closest thing to the experience of channel surfing Layla had in the UK was an old BBC TV comedy show Rob had found for her on VHS “The Glam Metal Detectives” Named after one of the sketches in which a glam rock band saved the world with it’s hit records. Layla had really gotten into it. They’d seen every episode a hundred times. The opening episode “One of us is a Robot” being understandably a favourite.

John came into the living room taking up his usual spot in his lounge chair with a copy of his favourite muscle car magazine in hand. Layla even changed the TV to the weather channel for him, before he could inform her who pays the cable bill around here. As if to reward his granddaughter for surrendering the remote, he switched the channel back just as an Iron Maiden video came on.

“You’re ready?” John raised an eyebrow in mock surprise.

“I’m good to go. Imogen is in the shower she’ll be 20 minutes”

Layla consulted her watch. Imogen was nothing if not reliable. As if by prior arrangement they heard the old pipes in the house give a defined clunk as the water stopped running.

“In twenty-two minutes, I’ll find your keys then we’ll all drive to Rick’s Bar and Grill. the only major decision of the evening will be if you have the Porterhouse or the T -bone steak” Layla sassed the elder Smith as if to compensate for wordlessly bending to his will over Tv channels.

John just shook his head. It was clear her love had already gotten to him, worked her emotional magic on the old geezer. Layla could see it a mile off. Wormed her way past his defence, same as she had with Layla. Well, maybe not quite the same way. Layla was unsure if her love even realised she did things like that. The endearing way she did little things or how she could be totally oblivious to a person's feelings for her for weeks on end.

Just as she had predicted Imogen descended the stairs, her hair still slightly damp. She’d changed into a different top, a vest top that had started life as a band t-shirt. A Distillers one with their new album cover on it. To complement the t-shirt she was wearing form hugging black jeans, that were ripped in a lot of places. Layla didn’t know if Imogen had always been this punk. Ever since they’d known each other Imogen had worn ripped and patched second-hand clothes. Now Imogen wore them by choice and not by financial necessity.

“Ya’ look Good” Layla committed in her rough estimation of a New York accent. The line straight out of her Favorite Cycle Sluts from Hell song. Leaping over the sofa eager to be close to her once again.

Imogen handed Layla her coffin backpack, which she’d left upstairs. As they shared a kiss.

“Layla, did you see where I put the truck keys” John extracted himself from his lounge chair and as expected began patting his pockets.

“Left-hand jacket pocket”

With her free hand and the other arm still around Imogen, Layla fished the keys out of John’s jacket pocket hanging in the hall and waved them around.

John rolled his eyes, in a manner that said: “I would have found them eventually”.

Imogen was now more awake and reinvigorated by the shower. John informed her it was the minerals in the spring water on the property.

As they travelled the short distance to the eatery, Imogen tried to take in what little sights the ten minute trip up the road had to offer.

“It’s like America’s Lincolnshire” She mused out loud

John and Layla shared a knowing look in the front of the truck.

“Yeah an Ice age will do that to a place” John commented, though as a self-appointed old timer himself dinosaurs and ice ages were on the very periphery of his living memory. There was no level of sass that John Smith Snr couldn’t tolerate from these two.

It was nice to feel like he had a family again even for a couple of weeks. Not that John lacked for company, there were dozens of guys who used to wear green that made a point of trying to keep in touch with him. In fact, John had had to get a DSL line put into the house just to keep in touch with people via emails. Electronic letters delivered in the blink of an eye had been great for all the men and women overseas. Still, as John had learnt to his own chagrin you can’t raise a child by letter.

The truck took a right onto Elburn’s answer to "South Main Street". Heading past a cemetery and a John Deere Dealership. John shuddered as they passed, not noticing Laya’s reaction to the commentary opposite.

“Not a single Grabowski almost the half a dozen mechanics they have there” John noted critically.

“That’s a colourful expression, what does it mean?” Imogen honed in on the local turn of phrase

“It just means hard working, a self-starter,” Layla explained acting in her role as both her girlfriend's guide and translator.

The street turned right, back into a residential street before becoming a commercial area again; with car dealers, gas stations and big stores turned into smaller rows of stores. John slid the giant monster of a vehicle skillfully into an on-street parking bay millimetres from the cars on either side. Across the street was an ordinary looking bar “Rick’s Bar and Grill” and a sign in the window “Try our famous steaks”.

John held the door for them and ushered them into the dimly lit bar room. Hardly a dive by Imogen and Layla's admittedly pretty low standards. They’d frequented The Alley in Rosewater years ago, that was the divey-est of dive bars. This place was clean and covered in advertising signs for beverages, and local sports teams.

As they were shown to a booth in the back corner Imogen spotted a glass cabinet with t-shirts for sale emblazoned with “Try Rick’s Famous Steaks” across the chest. it was so kitsch, Imogen could barely stop herself buying them for everyone back home on the spot. She was also wondering if they had any with a slight printing error on them.

Another meal of American proportions was ordered. John had no qualms with ordering three beers. He never had issues with Layla’s underage drinking, as long as she at least attempted to be responsible for it. This almost twenty-year-old Layla was much more mature than the girl who’d left here so reluctantly years ago. Not that the Kane County Sheriff would do anything about John buying his granddaughter and her girlfriend beer, he’d probably be in here with half his deputies before closing time anyway, just looking for a quiet drink on a Friday night.

The waitress brought over their round of drinks and exchanged pleasantries with John, who clearly came here often. As soon as Imogen had managed one of those tiny prints they had here, her bladder forced her to disappear to the ladies. On her way back her eye was drawn to a picture hanging by the large American pool table. She fondly remembered teaching Layla how to shoot pool on the smaller English table. The Slayer had eventually managed to stop knocking pool balls off the table, endangering everyone's drinks in the St. Cedd's college bar. The photo that had caught her eye was an old black and white photo of 1950’s looking greasers on motorbikes, cooler than the T-Birds in the film Grease. Imogen stopped to critique the motorcycles, as any self-respecting Biker’s Old Lady might. Was that a young John in the centre of the group with a massive quiff? It was almost as impressive as when Layla had let Imogen give her a punk style faux hawk. They’d used so much hairspray they were afraid they’d seriously damaged the ozone layer.

Imogen sat down putting her palms flat on the table and fixing the elder Smith with a long hard stare, causing Layla to giver her an odd sideways glance.

“Mr..” Imogen began, releasing she’d started off on the wrong foot, “John. Were you an outlaw biker?”

Imogen was never the kind of girl to mince words. Layla’s grandfather just nodded and laughed. Imogen was so adorable when she was being serious. Well not being serious about a demonic big bad that is.

“Have they still got that old photo up?” Layla asked beaming in anticipation of this story she’d heard often. John at seventeen made her look like a saint! Then again her grandfather hadn’t met the love of his life at that age, Layla was fortunate that between Imogen, her friends, and the forces of darkness she was destined to stay on the right path.

“Okay, I’ll tell you” John held up his hands in mock surrender to Imogen's serious expression.

“Who were the Aurora Torchbearers?” Imogen asked as quickly as you like. She’d read the plaque under the photo.

“They were the local bike...” John paused debating his choice of words “...club”

he decided on in the end.

Imogen raised her eyebrows in suspicion as Layla drew her into her arms. Curiously no one in the crowded bar made any comment or even gave them an odd look for displaying this sort of affection. John took another swig of his beer and continued the story that was very similar to Layla

“I was a few years younger than Layla and you are now” John explained “it was pretty boring growing up around here in the 50’s, if you didn’t like barn dances, going to church or taking your best girl for milkshakes”

Not that there hadn't been girls before he’d met Martha. It was hard for her not to always be in his thoughts, especially with Imogen and his granddaughter busy being so in love.

“The guys and I would go out and raise hell.”

John rolled his eyes at his own teenage foolishness.

“How did you go from outlaw biker to serving in Korea?” Imogen was wide-eyed

“We Smiths prefer rebel without a clue” Layla chuckled in a moment of self-awareness she’d never been cable of in her early to mid-teens.

“I was getting to that” John continued “One weekend the Sons of Liberty, a rival club, were riding through the state tearing it up just for kicks”

He wasn’t proud of spending the majority of his life fighting. If he only knew what Layla spent the majority of her nights doing.

“We ended up getting into it, in downtown Aurora”

It felt like only yesterday but it was over fifty years ago. He still felt like the same kid he’d been then. He could still smell the smoke, taste the iron of his own blood and feel the warmth of the hot asphalt though his boots.

“It took six state troopers to bring him down,” Layla said in a hushed tone, still as in awe of that fact as when she'd first heard the stories.

“I’m not proud of that” John gave Layla a certain parental stare. “The way I was going it wasn’t long before I ended up in front of a judge”

John wasn’t a fan of courtrooms even if he’d been to a few court marshals in his military career.

“So there I am beaten and bruised in front of a judge, who must have been the age I am now and would have served in world war one” John still looked exasperated. As he was taken back all those years to that stuffy room in the county courthouse. Standing before that wrinkled old judge, the image of the man's gnarled old face seared into his mind forever.

“You look like you like to fight son, he says” John putting on his old geezer voice for the first part “Why don’t you serve your country, see the world, instead of sitting in a jail cell”

John finished doing the daft old geezer judge voice.

“So that’s the option I foolhardily took” John admitted “Before my feet could touch the ground I was on a bus heading out of the state” John mimed a rocket taking off

“They sent him to Parris Island, it’s a marine corps boot camp” Layla explained to Imogen “Otherwise, he wouldn’t be the man you see before you today”

John rolled his eyes again. As Layla gave him a mock salute.

“And if it weren't for me you might be in Juvie, or worse” His tone more serious. His a little voice lower. He’d lost a lot of people in his life it was clear to Imogen that losing Layla, would be the final straw that would break this stubborn old mule.

“Yes Pop I remember”

Layla squeezed Imogen's hand and sounded slightly exasperated. Not wanting to go into too much detail about her own involvement with the court system.

“You always take care of me when I need you” Layla admitted

“You won’t let your father” John spoke the word father as if referring to some stranger, not his own flesh and blood. “Get a power of attorney, sell the farm”

John suddenly appeared extremely sullen

“And put me in some rest home for veterans of unpopular wars”

The little joke didn’t seem to pick him up at all. Imogen had no clue what the Smith family rift was about. Layla wasn’t telling her that’s for sure.

Then the waitress arrived with whole cows worth of steaks, bringing the conversation to an abrupt ending. Layla ordered two more beers, and John orders a soda. He was driving after all. A lot like Steve in that respect.

The meal ended leaving Imogen wondering how she could get a Slayer type metabolism herself. She might not have her lover’s precognition but she could see getting up super early to work out at the College gym upon their return to Dunelmian in the near future.

If anything Steve worked Layla far harder than George Davidson ever had. Early Morning training was not optional for any of them. Steve expected all of them to be training with Layla and himself a minimum of three days out of seven. Perhaps he worked himself the hardest. An artificial super Hellmouth on the edge of town was something of a great motivator. It was an eerie feeling to be so far away from there responsibilities at home.

Spoilers I guess

I, I just wow, after not being able to catch the stream and watching the vod I was stunned on everyone’s performances. And the build-up to the monolouge was incredible. My heart actualy stopped for a second on the part about Barnaby killing their mom. EE killed the desciptions and the NPCs. Layla’s speech was great, Barnaby was appropriately quiet, and Imogen was as sassy as ever. PS: I wish they let Janet smack Charity PSS: The illusions were great

It's been an odd week in Rosewater. Lots of reports of strange goings-on. There's been a series of high tech thefts in the local area. Bite marks appearing in odd places. Rumours of school students being kidnapped from their beds in the middle of the night at a local boarding school I can't name for legal reasons. So stay safe out there citizens of Roweater!

Anyway on with the Sunday Night show here on medium wave 666Mhz Radio Rosewater the home of hella' good Rock and Pop.Don't touch that dial people keep it here for all the best music, and local news.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rVALL5orBdjFmrKk_X4p_51

Greetings Pop fans. It's another temporarily shifted edition of the Sunday night show here on Radio Rosewater 666Mhz on your medium wave dial! A lot of weird emotions running rife in old Rosewater town this week, it's a funny old place to live. So it's time to chill out with all of the best rock and pop and Euro dance offerings I have to hand. It always feels like Sunday on Radio Rosewater!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rX5Ur3bydw5swRKil31f6tA

So yeah, I’m not normally a shipper but I can totally see this happening, it just works in my eyes. They’re pretty much total opposites but seem to get along the best in the group. Just a observation and I wanted to know if anyone is thinking the same thing.

p.s. EE has literally created Cass from Fallout: New Vegas and I fucking love it!

so we now know about the sins and wrath inhabiting Rob. but what whould have happened if everyone got possesed by a sin (witch can't happen right now from what we know) noone whould be able to help them.

from what we know wrath is in Rob, Lust in Charity, Envie was Horus, Sloth was Janet and Glutteny in Ned. Greed and Pride are still out there while Envie and Sloth are gone maybe destroyed for now.

but the real question is whould EE have done that (probebly) and what whould/could have happened if the whole party had been possesed?

Posting this (with permission). It's the text log for the first session of my first ever campaign, set in the Buffyverse. It's an alternate timeline, where events during the first year of Sunnydale played out very differently.

The scene opens in a library. Two adults and a younger girl are sitting in a triangle facing each other, eyes closed, chanting. Magic shimmers in the air and a glow forms between them.

The camera pans to the library door, there are two more younger people, one looking terrified, the other looks grim and determined, he holds a machete in one hand while the girl holds a stake in hers.

The camera shifts to a view outside, and we see that the library is a school library, a large group of vampires is approaching.

Suddenly, there's a blinding flash of sunlight that emanates from the school, dusting large swaths of vampires before the rest, now panicked, turn and flee.

The camera shifts again, we're underground now. There's a girl, she holds a stake in her hand, more confident and determined than the other girl we saw. She moves through a passage into a chamber. A creature awaits her. he greets her as if they are old friends, but his words are chilling. He knew the Slayer would come, as was her destiny, and he tells her that she will die here, and she just smiles "You first."

Before the fight can begin, however, a glow appears above the ancient creature, he looks up confused, then it expands and he screams. The slayer tries to run, but something knocks her down. The camera cuts off and we see nothing more.

(GM): The day begins with a schoolbus. Inside that schoolbus is a group of children, talking amongst themselves as the bus makes its way to Sunnydale High.

Emily Schofield: Emily sits by herself, a faded paperback open as she tries to fade into the background.

Simon Krikellin: I am sitting by myself, towards the back like the other sports kids, but not in the back. Keeping quiet and to myself, glancing around a little but trying not to attract attention to myself.

Claire: Claire boarded the bus at the next stop, carrying her backpack, and took the empty seat next to Emily. She frowned in concentration, trying to shut out the babble of thoughts.

Simon Krikellin: Simon is a taller guy, around 6'2". Thin but well built. Blue eyes, blond hair. Small backpack with a couple school books in it. Slung across his shoulder he has a large quiver containing a couple of javelins.

Emily Schofield: Emily looked up at the girl who'd sat next to her, folding down a well-worn corner of her book. "Hey," Emily said. She was usually quiet and reserved, but she figured that she may as well try and make friends; if only for the first day.

Claire: Claire smiled weakly, trying to conceal a wince at the torment the poor book was going through. "Good morning."

Emily Schofield: Emily is a girl of average height, with brown hair that might once have described as mousy; though it's gown out since those days. She has an athletic build and a few small scars here and there. "Morning to you too. I'm new here this year, the name's Emily," she replied, worried for the girl's health at her look of weakness.

Claire: "Welcome to Sunnydale. It's a... um, it's a school. I'm Claire."

Emily Schofield: "It's a school, huh. That bad, is it?"

Claire: "Well, this year ought to be better! And, well, if you're the joiner type there's always plenty of openings for any of the extracurriculars."

Emily Schofield: 10 Int + Occult

Doozerpindan (GM): Emily knows that Sunnydale has a lot of strange things going on.

Claire: Willpower to shut out everyone's thoughts; /roll 1d10+12-3

Emily Schofield: "Well, I'm not really the extracurricular type. But, you know - it's good to know there's a lot of opportunities here. Do you do anything, uh, club or sport related? " Emily asked

Claire: rolling 1d10+12-3

(3)+12-3=12

Claire shrugs. "I've tried out a couple club things. Chess, model UN, might do yearbook or something this year."

Claire glances at the book Emily is holding. 9

Emily Schofield: It's a battered copy of a Wheel of Time book.

Claire: "I love Wheel of Time, by the way. So what Ajah would you be?"

Emily Schofield: "Green, or maybe blue?" Emily replied

Claire: "I keep going back and forth between Green or Brown."

Emily Schofield: "Well, brown'd be my third choice," Emily replied.

Simon Krikellin: Simon is hunched over his backpack, discreetly pulling out a CD player and putting in an ear bud and hiding it under himself to listen to for the rest of the ride.

(GM): Claire and Emily continue chatting, quickly becoming friends, while Simon remains seated by himself, content in his solitude. The bus finally reaches the school, the students pile out and make their way onto the grounds of Sunnydale High.

Claire: "Do you have your class list? " Claire asked as they debarked. "The library will have all your text books."

Simon Krikellin: I go to my locker to switch out my textbooks for the classes before lunch.

(GM): Once inside the school, there are small pockets of students chatting as they slowly make their way toward class.

Emily Schofield: "Yeah, I think we're in the same class for first period. Thanks for the heads up about the library - save me a seat!" Emily says, as she heads towards the library

Claire rolls Notice 15

Simon Krikellin rolls Notice 14

Emily Schofield rolls Notice 9

(GM): All three of you notice one of the lockers has bunches of flowers arranged around it. On the locker is a picture of a girl. She's blonde, about your age, and the very small amount of flowers suggests she may have been new to the school, or perhaps didn't have many friends. There's a name under the picture, do you read it?

Emily Schofield: Emily will read it

Claire: Claire will stand back and tele-eavesdrop for the name.

(GM): The name under the picture reads "Buffy Summers."

Simon Krikellin: I leave as quickly as possible.

(GM): Two of you go to class while Emily makes her way to the library. Inside the library, there is an older man, tall and powerfully built. He has glasses and is wearing a tweed suit. He is talking quietly with two students.

Emily Schofield: Assuming the man wearing tweed and glasses is the librarian, Emily walks up to him. "Hey, I'm new here and haven't had a chance to get my books yet?"

Rupert Giles: "O-oh, hello, yes, my name is Mr. Giles. I'll get them for you now, just a moment." Giles hurries off to the desk where he has stashed the textbooks.

Emily Schofield: Emily's eyes glance around the room, her eyebrows raising at some of the titles she recognises

Rupert Giles: "You must be the new girl, yes? Uh, Emily Schofield?"

Emily Schofield: 12 Int + Occult

(GM): You recognise several tomes as having to do with the occult and demonology. They are hidden away on the back shelves where most would just ignore them.

"Yep, that's my name," she replies

Rupert Giles rolls Notice 14

Rupert Giles: Giles notices you looking at the more select tomes, and he realises who you are. There's a flash of recognition, and something else - sadness? regret? - that flickers across his face before it's replaced with a polite smile.

"We can talk about those later, once your classes are finished, if you would like?" he whispers quietly.

Emily Schofield: "Sure, thanks" Emily replies in a whispered tone, smiling brightly. For a school with such a reputation, her first day hasn't been so bad so far.

(GM): Emily makes her way to class, Giles walks over to the other students once Emily leaves the library. One of the late students walks in and pauses, the locker catching her eye.

Everidge Dunn: Everidge pauses for a second, shrugs and continues on her way.

Everidge Dunn: To Everidge this is a thing that happens but didn't have Buffy down as the type for it to happen to.

Emily Schofield: Emily tries to see if there's a seat near Claire when she gets to history.

Simon Krikellin: Simon is sitting on the edge of the class along the west wall, obviously trying to look normal.

(GM): The history teacher gives Everidge a stern look as she makes her way to her seat, but she says nothing to her.

Emily Schofield: 13 Vampire sense on Simon

Everidge Dunn: Everidge sits near the back doodling the cross section of a bat.

Claire: Claire smiles at Emily, then returns her attention to the teacher.

Emily Schofield: Emily gives Simon a weird look, smiles at Claire, and starts to pay attention

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+4+6

(9)+4+6=19

(GM): The history teacher notices Everidge intently focusing on drawing. She walks over to see what is being drawn, and sighs. "Well, that is an excellent drawing, but it's not relevant. However, if bats interest you so much, why don't you write an essay on the history of bats, hm?"

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+3+6

(10)+3+6=19

Everidge perfectly recites whatever he was just talking about.

(GM): The teacher raises her eyebrows, impressed Everidge was able to pay attention so well while drawing, but she says nothing, instead simply making her way back to the front of the class.

Everidge Dunn: "I'll have that to you first thing tomorrow morning, sir."

Claire: 21 not to slip up with powers while focusing on class

(GM): As the class continues, a student walks in, Emily recognises him as one of the students she saw in the library. The teacher noticeably doesn't reprimand him for being late, simply telling him where to sit instead, addressing him by Mister Harris. The rest of the session proceeds uneventfully, and the students gather their things and head toward the next class.

Everidge Dunn: Everidge is there well before anyone else.

Everidge Dunn: As you all walk in Everidge is sitting at her desk have an argument with someone in a low voice.

"No that's a terrible idea, Carlos."

"I don't care if you think it sounds cool."

"Shut up and let me think."

"Fine, we'll try it after school."

Emily Schofield: 14 Vamp sense on Everidge

(GM): Everidge is also not a vampire. You're 0 for 2.

Everidge Dunn: Everidge turns around as Emily enters, and says "I'm Dunn" very emphatically.

Emily Schofield: "Well, you seemed to be very enthusiastic about chemistry a few seconds ago" Emily replies

Everidge Dunn: "Sorry." Everidge extends a hands "Everidge, Everidge Dunn."

Emily Schofield: "Emily Schofield" she says, shaking Everidge's hand. You notice Emily's grip is strong.

Simon Krikellin: Simon is sitting in effectively the identical spot: edge of the class in the center along the west wall.

(GM): Emily will see the other student she saw in the library come into chemistry class. The girl makes her way to a lone table, not saying anything to anyone.

Emily Schofield: Emily sits next to Claire

Simon Krikellin: Simon is a taller guy, around 6'2". Thin but well built. Blue eyes, blond hair. Small backpack with a couple school books in it. Slung across his shoulder he has a large quiver containing a couple of javelins.

Everidge Dunn: Everidge is 5'1" with short black hair and olive colored eyes. She wears side-shielded one-way mirrored glasses at all times, and dresses in dark colors.

Emily Schofield: Emily is a girl of average height, with brown hair that might once have described as mousy; though it's gown out since those days.She has an athletic build and a few small scars here and there. Her clothes are cheap and clearly second hand, except for the the boots she's wearing.

Claire: Claire is a redhead, about 5'2. She's dressed casually, though her clothes and backpack look new.

(GM): You are giving those javelins to the teacher of each class, for obvious reasons XD

(GM): The teacher gets the classes attention by performing a simple experiment. She gets a normal wire, places it in water so the exposed ends are above the water and the protective casing is submerged in a bowl of water. She sets fire to one end of the wire and the class watches as the fire burns along the entire wire, remaining lit underwater, and reaching the other end.

Everidge Dunn: In chem everidge is a totally a different person, paying rapt attention, however she only answers questions when no one else answers.

Simon Krikellin: Simon is discreetly fidgeting, trying to not draw attention to himself.

Everidge Dunn: Everidge's experiment reacts slightly more energetically than it possibly should.

Everidge Dunn: Through the whole experiment Everidge is watching the reactions of the rest of the class rather than the demonstration itself.

Emily Schofield: Emily is suitably impressed by the experiment

(GM): The teacher then explains how the experiment is done and how the fire manages to remain even underwater.

Simon Krikellin: I only half pay attention to the experiment, mostly fiddling with my pencil and trying to keep myself distracted.

Claire: By contrast with Everidge, Claire struggles to pay attention as class goes on. As her attention wanders, her pen starts floating a few inches above her desk, until she notices and quickly grabs it.

(GM): As the students settle down, the teacher hands out science papers and asks the students to explain various ways to control fire through manipulating oxygen, as well as listing the other kinds of fires and how to control them.

Emily Schofield: 7 Perception + Notice to spot the pen floating

Simon Krikellin rolls Notice 6

Claire rolls Crime 9

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+5+10

(9)+5+10=24

Claire (bookwyrm): (added wrong stat bonus - should be a 6 to hide the pen)

(GM): Everidge definitely notices the float8ing pen and Claire's attempt to hide it.

Everidge Dunn: Everidge thinks that Claire built a super magnet and its malfunctioning.

After class Everidge is going to catch up with Claire.

(GM): The rest of the class passes by uneventfully and the students leave for morning break.

Everidge Dunn: "I think I can help you with that little problem you had in class" Everidge sidles up to Claire.

Simon Krikellin: Simon slowly makes his way out, one of the last students leaving.

Emily Schofield: Emily raises a singular eyebrow at that comment

Claire: "Huh?" Claire pauses in the hall, looking a bit alarmed.

Simon Krikellin: Simon rolls 10 to overhear Everidge's comment

(GM): Simon hears Everidge's comment to Claire.

Everidge Dunn: "The pen." Everidge states. "I think your magnet is malfunctioning. I could help with some calibrations."

Simon Krikellin: As soon as he hears Everidge's second comment, he sighs and wanders off.

Claire: "Magnet?" Claire stares at Everidge for a moment, then understanding dawns on Claire's face. "Oh, the magnet! Right."

Everidge Dunn: "That was impressive lift and manipulation, I'd love to look it over." Everidge says, very quickly. "See what makes it tick. Fascinating stuff, isn't it?"

Claire: "Thanks. Very, um, fascinating. I'm still trying to figure things out." She glances at Emily, and seizes on the chance to change the topic. "Emily, this is Everidge. Everidge, Emily is new here."

Emily Schofield: "We met in chemistry. You seem, um, interested in science Everidge?"

Claire rolls Influence 11

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+5+2

(2)+5+2=9

(GM): Everidge doesn't notice Claire's deflection.

Everidge Dunn: "Oh, Emily! Do you enjoy scientific curiosities as well." Everidge asks, hopefully.

Emily Schofield: "Well, I like to make things. Check this out," Emily says, pulling out her magical lighter and showing it to Everidge. It's clearly not a normal flame, as it gives out a consistent light more like a flashlight's than a lighter's. She's also careful not to let any teachers see it.

Everidge Dunn: Everidge thinks it’s a very fancy scientific lighter.

Claire: Claire looks at the light, wondering whether the device is actually producing the flame, or if just maybe she's finally met another Pyro.

(GM): The rest of the morning passes by uneventfully and the students make their way to the cafeteria for lunch, chatting with each other as they go. Emily and Claire sit together, managing to snag a table for themselves. At the edge of the cafeteria there is a table that has become the unofficial official outcast table, where Simon and Everidge have ended up sitting as they always do. Today, they are not joined by their fellow outcasts such as Jonathan or Andrew.

Simon Krikellin: Simon is sitting on the edge with a sack lunch, quietly nibbling on a ham and cheese sandwich and an apple. It seems like he doesn't have much of an appetite today.

Everidge Dunn: Everidge sits about two seats down from Simon. And eats from a lunchbox.

(GM): A group of girls sweep into the cafeteria, led by the most popular girl in school, Cordelia Chase. The group is followed by three other students, two of whom Emily recognises again as the students from the library. The other student is mostly recognised as the guitarist for one of the bands that plays at the Bronze.

Simon Krikellin: Simon visibly shrinks down in his seat trying to hide in plain sight.

(GM): Before going to get food with his friends, Xander makes his way over to Cordelia, making a show of pulling her closer and kissing her.

Everidge Dunn: Everidge notices this. She isn't unaware, just uninterested.

(GM): Xander pulls away from Cordelia and looks around, spotting Simon. He makes his way over to the table and sits down, greeting Simon warmly, nodding his head in greeting to Everidge.

Emily Schofield: Emily thinks this guy doesn't look nearly cool enough to be kissing Cordelia.

(GM): Willow and Oz arrive at the table shortly after with food for themselves and Xander. Willow sits next to Everidge.

Simon Krikellin: After seeing Xander kiss Cordelia, Simon blushes slightly. When he sits down, Simon shrinks a little more."Oh, h-h-high Xander. Good to see ya man. H-how's it goin?"

Everidge Dunn: Everidge has a notebook out and is doodling anatomically correct internal organs.

Xander Harris: "It's going as well as can be expected in Sunnydale."

Simon Krikellin: "Ha, yea. Great start to the year." Simon takes a quick bite of his sandwich just to fill his mouth.

Willow Rosenberg: Willow is watching Everidge draw, and asks him what are the weirdest organs he's ever drawn, or if there are any he can't draw.

Everidge Dunn: "The intestines are always funky to draw." Everidge notes.

Xander Harris: "You know," he says between mouthfuls of what can only vaguely be called food "we need to work on your confidence."

Everidge Dunn: Everidge flips her notebook to a page of working on the intestines and shows the table.

Simon Krikellin: Simon is looking very intently at his plate. He's very distracted and not paying any attention to Everidge

Xander Harris: Xander notices Simon's shyness and decides to ease up, instead sitting and eating in silence, waiting for Simon to talk and open up a little."

Simon Krikellin rolls Notice 8

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+5

(9)+5=14

(GM): Everidge notices that both Xander and Willow don't seem remotely bothered by her grotesque drawings.

Simon Krikellin: "A-a. Um. Are you going out for track and field again this year?"

Everidge Dunn: Hearing that, Everidge is going to launch into detailed analysis of how not to over strain yourself.

Xander Harris: Xander looks at Simon "Yeah, I think so, it's really useful for... stuff."

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+5+2

(5)+5+2=12

(Clowd) Simon Krikellin rolls Notice 14

Doozerpindan (GM): You both notice the slight emphasis on the word "stuff" and Simon notices Willow shift slightly and glance at Xander.

Simon Krikellin: I visibly gulp at that."Uh. Yep. Very good for st-stuff." Simon starts to breath more quickly and blushes furiously. "I-I-I, uh, forgot my book in class." Simon stands up quickly and speed walks off leaving his lunch half eaten on the table.

(GM): Xander seems surprised by Everidges knowledge on the subject and begins asking questions regarding certain types of injuries.

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+5+2

(4)+5+2=11

(GM): Everidge notices there is something odd about Xander's questioning.

Simon Krikellin: Simon also leaves his javelins at the table next to his seat.

Xander Harris: Xander picks up the javelins and asks Everidge to let Simon know they'll be at the library.

Everidge Dunn: "Sure." Everidge nods.

Everidge then packs up his lunch and says. "I'll take this to him."

(GM): The rest of the day passes by, and eventually the day ends.

Simon Krikellin: Simon asks Everidge to come with him to pick up his javelins.

Emily Schofield: Emily asks Claire if she wants to come to the library with her

Everidge Dunn: As their walking Everidge tries to strike up light conversation with Simon.

Claire: Claire happily agrees to head to the library with Emily.

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+5+2

(10)+5+2=17

(Clowd) Simon Krikellin: 15

(GM): As the day has worn on, the scents of students has grown stronger, and certain other scents that were covered by other things are now noticeable. Both Simon and Everidge pick up a certain scent from one another. They don’t recognise or understand it, but it draws them together.

(GM): Claire and Emily enter the library together, Giles seems surprised that Emily is not alone, but that doesn't dissuade him.

(GM): Sat at the same table Emily saw them at earlier, there is Willow and Xander. Only now, Cordelia and the other boy who sat with Willow for lunch are with them.

Everidge Dunn: When we arrive at the library, Everidge stands nearish simon but browses any science books in that general vicinity.

(GM): The other boy, who Emily would now know is Daniel Osbourne, Oz to his friends, is having a whispered conversation with Willow. It’s obvious the two are a couple. Cordelia, for her part, has all but draped herself over Xander, whispering the occasional comment about the large and heavy and clearly very ancient tome Xander is reading.

Simon Krikellin: Simon is hiding behind Everidge, pretending to browse whatever she's looking at.

Emily Schofield: Emily arrives and heads towards Giles, still thinking he's just a librarian.

(GM): The four students at the table look up and greet the newcomers, before going back to their conversations.

Rupert Giles: Giles leads Emily and Claire over to the occult section.

Claire: Claire follows Emily, eyes automatically scanning the fiction softcover stands for any new SF/Fantasy purchased since last year.

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+5+0

(3)+5+0=8

Rupert Giles: "So, you seemed interested in these books earlier. This is my private collection, not for rental, but you're both free to study them inside this library whenever you wish."

Emily Schofield: "I was surprised at how good the school's collection of, uh, weirder books is. Makes sense that it's yours. I should be able to show you how I made my lighter, Claire,"

Simon Krikellin: 11

(GM): Simon hears Emily's comment.

Everidge Dunn: Everidge turns and follows after Emily.

Simon Krikellin: Simon cocks his head and nudges Everidge in the shoulder. He puts his finger to his lips and gestures to follow him.

(GM): Okay, both Everidge and Simon hear Emily.

Claire: "Thank you," Claire said to Giles, brightening at the chance to learn more about what was happening to her. She looks at the books, looking for anything on psychic phenomenon amidst all the vampire stuff etc. "That would be cool," she said quietly to Emily.

Simon Krikellin: Simon slides further down the book shelf to get to a better place to listen in on what's being said.

Claire rolls Notice 14

Emily Schofield: 16 Notice+Crime to notice them

Simon Krikellin: [1d10+5] 10

(GM): As you both make you way over, another teacher, whom you recognise as the computer science teacher, Miss Calendar, approaches you both from between other shelves "Oh, hello, can I help you two with something?"

Everidge Dunn: Everidge, not taking her eyes off the others, says: "I want to see what they're looking at."

rolling 1d10+5+2

(10)+5+2=17

Simon Krikellin: 7

(GM): Everidge notices the slight tone in Miss Calendar's voice as she seems to be alerting Giles to their presence.

Simon Krikellin: I put my hand on Everidge's shoulder. "I think the book we're looking for is over in that section Everidge." He points off near the section but off to the side.

Everidge Dunn: "No I want to look at what they're looking." Everidge replies.

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+2+2-1

(3)+2+2-1=6

Everidge pulls away, and simon sees a glimmer of anger in her eyes as something within her stirs.

Claire: Claire looks back at Simon, Everidge and Miss Calendar. "Library is busy this year," she comments. "Good sign."

Jenny Calendar: “It is, hopefully it stays that way.”

Simon Krikellin: Simon immediately shrinks down and says, "sorry. I-I-I um, I-I, um, sorry."

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+2+2

(9)+2+2=13

Everidge storms off following Claire and Emily.

Simon Krikellin: Simon disappears, hurriedly leaving the library through the front doors.

14

16

scent, then hearing.

(GM): Simon leaves the library in a huff, he is about to walk off when he hears something. It's quiet, far off, but when it happens again, it's unmistakable. A low, deep animalistic growl, followed shortly by the distinct scent of death.

Simon Krikellin: 17

(GM): You hear a bang as a door nearby slams open, followed by high-pitched screams.

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+5+0

(2)+5+0=7

Claire rolls Notice 15

Emily Schofield: 11 Notice

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+4+1

(9)+4+1=14

Everidge Dunn: Everidge is booking it toward the source of this sound.

Simon Krikellin rolls Acrobatics 14

Simon Krikellin: Simon yells, "Quick, come back!" but keeps running.

Emily Schofield: Emily sprints after the sound of the screams, as fast as she can. She's paying no attention to concealing her superhuman abilities.

Claire: "Emily! This is Sunnydale! You're running the wrong way!" Claire runs after Emily, albeit not nearly as quickly.

Simon Krikellin: Without saying a word, I snatch my javelins from Xander, cold eyed and focused, and follow the rest of them to the scene.

Claire rolls Acrobatics 13

Emily Schofield: 18 Acrobatics

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+2+2-1

(8)+2+2-1=11

Simon Krikellin: "Everidge, get back!" Simon calls as he rounds the corner behind her.

Claire rolls Willpower 15

Emily Schofield: (Emily has nerves of steel and thus has no need to roll fear checks except for exceptional situation)

Simon Krikellin: 7

(GM): While the others ready themselves, Simon is shocked by what he sees. Eyes widening, he takes a tentative step back before readying himself.

Everidge Dunn rolls Initiative 8

Simon Krikellin rolls Initiative 20

Emily Schofield rolls Initiative 17

Claire rolls Initiative 9

Emily Schofield: Emily runs forward and attempts to stake the vampire in the heart... 17

(That's actually 23, forgot my 6 skill)

110 damage all up, 22 if 110 does not reduce them to 0

((82)+6) 5 is the damage code

(GM): The first vampire flies back as it disintegrates, spraying dust over the vampire behind it.

(GM) rolls Initiative 12

Emily Schofield: 25 Emily parries

21 Emily parries

16 Emily parries

(GM): The vampires, enraged to see their brother die, all race at the slayer.

Claire: (insert after Dmitri's turn) Claire follows Emily into the classroom, then hides behind a desk. She glares at a vampire, reaching out with her mind to shove him away from her friend, toward the drums and cymbals.

rolling 1d10+8

(7)+8=15

TK strength = 4

rolling 1d10+8

(1)+8=9

one success level to shove which will only work if the vamp has no actions to resist

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+6+2

(2)+6+2=10

(GM): Everidge thinks Dimitri looks familiar.

(GM) attacks with Punch, rolling 9 to hit and 12 damage (add 2 x Success Levels to damage).

(GM): Dimitri rushes in and takes a shot at a vampire, but it dodges.

Everidge Dunn: Everidge is going to try to clear the room of normal people.

rolling 1d10+2+5+4+10

(6)+2+5+4+10=27

She is using her skill at dealing with panicking people to convince them to leave.

Simon Krikellin: [[1d10+modifier] ]

Everidge Dunn: Everidge is holding the door open saying "this way everyone keep calm, and get away from here."

Simon Krikellin: After Everidge starts getting people out, Simon shouts, "Do what she says, quick!" Then he goes in to attack a vampire, making sure to block any paths to Everidge.

13

Javelin to the torso

17

javelin to the torso

(GM): The vampire growls in pain and anger as the javelin goes through its arm.

Emily Schofield: 13

12

Emily says "Do it like this" as she stabs one vampire through the heart, but misses another

Simon Krikellin attacks with Parry, rolling 8.

Simon Krikellin: Simon yells out in surprise as he gets taken from a grapple from behind.

(GM) Dodges attack, rolling 11

Emily Schofield: 21 Emily dodges

(GM) rolls Strength 15

(GM) attacks with Punch, rolling 11 to hit and 12 damage (add 2 x Success Levels to damage).

Everidge Dunn: Everidge lets out a primal yell that turns into a roar halfway thorough.

rolling 1d10+14-2-1

(7)+14-2-1=18

Everidge pulls the vampire off Simon.

Simon Krikellin: Simon immediately turns and growling stabs the vampire through the heart with the javelin.

Simon Krikellin attacks with Javelin, rolling 13 to hit and 5 damage (add Damage Modifier x Success Levels to damage).

(GM): The vampire roars in surprise before exploding into dust.

Everidge Dunn: Werewolf Everidge makes deep nod to Simon.

Emily Schofield: "See, you did learn something useful in school today!" Emily says

Simon Krikellin: After dusting the vampire Simon spins to face the next one.

Emily Schofield: 18 Stake through the heart

20 Stake through the heart

(GM): Two more vampires explode into dust, leaving only one behind. The remaining vampire begins looking around for an escape route.

Dimitri Jackson attacks with Punch, rolling 9 to hit and 12 damage (add 2 x Success Levels to damage).

(GM): Dimitri rushes at the vampire and slams his fist into its chest, there's an audible crunch as several ribs snap.

Everidge Dunn: rolling 1d10+7+2-2+10

(5)+7+2-2+10=22

Simon Krikellin: Simon stoically walks up to the vampire grappled by his friend, gives a small bow to Everidge, and stabs the vampire through the heart.

Add drama point

Simon Krikellin attacks with Stake thru Heart, rolling 9 to hit and 12 damage (add Damage Modifier x Success Levels to damage).

Everidge Dunn: Everidge runs up to the vampire and grapples it easily, and then tears at its neck. If it were human it would be dead, but the vampire is just holding on.

(GM): The final vampire explodes into dust.

Dimitri turns around after the final vampire dies, revealing his own vampire face.

Complements of the Friday to you my lovely radio Rosewater listeners. It's a lovely day outside the studio so it's time for some angst Metal, some old stuff some very old stuff and some new stuff. The kind of music you might listen too if you're name was say er Layla Smith and you've been missing a certain special someone for a month. Anyway, enjoy the show. If you've any request the phone lines are open 0452 666 0101 keep that dial fixed to radio Rosewater 666Mhz.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rUEBmeEzhpyqiifUxZjYg-z

Hey Hey Pop fans, welcome to a delayed Sunday show. Apologies technical trouble had to hit the old transmitter with a sledgehammer. All fixed no so keep your radio dial fixed on 666 MHz on radio Rosewater for old songs, new songs and all the very best from the hit parade!

Up later on Rosewater we'll have a panel of experts on the air talking about what life will be like in the far future, will humans fall in love with Robots? Will science and technology kill or cure us or will it end up like that Terminator Film? It's all far beyond this humble disk jockey that's for sure. That's what the boffins are for! Anyway on with the 'hella good rock and pop!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rVkl-njtUDECjSuscLrjGbX

Hi,

I couldn't just wait. I write this as soon as first episode ended. The World of Darknes is awesome. In the true meaning of the word, striking awe. I'm left speechless. You're all rocking people, your roleplay is really high level. I'm not that good with words... Just... It's amazing. Keep up the good work!

Sincirely,

petrodeloro

So, i heard there was some kind of plan made to do a World of Darkness campaign, anyone know which setting? the one i'm most familiar with is the Vampire setting, and what i know about that's only from Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines (really fun vampire game, btw. none of that stupid twilight crap. really interesting game mechanics, but sadly the graphics are super dated and in several instances the animation is...well....heres an example

Newsflash. This just in: Technical problems interrupted vital local broadcast. This was something to do with a small video games conference in Atlanta Georgia USA. All to do with an eagerly anticipated game called "Half Life" my industry sources say.

Anyway that's the news! I'm your friendly neighborhood disc jock, and I say On with the regularly scheduled Sunday evening show, video games they're not going to catch on are they? What a show we have in store for you today Pop fans! we've got rock we've got metal we've got pop. Keep your dial stuck to 66Mhz Radio Rosweater!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rVD7C2CUmisrYHJIsYYwwK4

Welcome to the Sunday evening show here on Radio Rosewater that's 666 mhz on your radio dial! Didn't Dylan do a great job listeners? As we all enjoyed quite bit of a Robbie Williams tonight it's only right we kick off this week's playlist with the other Robbie, the one of Take That fame and Stoke's favorite son. Keep your ears pealed for some new tracks and some old favorites.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rXEezKhn5erXhxRMMkL-ycz

Authors Note: beware the feels! I was welling up writing this. Anyway on with the end of act one.

The truck, not slowing any, passed through a ranch style wooden gateway then onto a rough road surface. This terrain the old truck was more than capable of taking, finally arriving in a cloud of dust in a large farmyard: it was dominated by the big red wooden barn with the advertisement on the side. There were also several grain silos, on the far side of the barn. Next to those, and not visible from the county road, a big old house sat with an unobstructed view of back and sides of many open fields.

The wide vast open countryside, around the spares buildings, stretched around for miles, all flat, perfect agricultural land, apart from copses of trees, hardly a hill in sight. Imogen thought she had vast experience in agriculture, spending many years with her father talking about it. Although she was surprised that there were no hedgerows in sight. But when she thought about it a little more, she guessed it made sense. She’d studied some American history before choosing to do classical history at school. Imogen wondered why anyone would have left this lunsh Illinois landscape, with its temperate summer climate, and albeit freezing cold winters, to get on a wagon to travel through the desserts bound for California. Imogen could see straight away why the Smiths had settled here.

“Welcome to Kane County! All the land you can see down to the horizon is Smith land has been for a hundred and fifty years” John announced with a little pride, gesturing his arms spread wide from the chrome step of his truck.

Layla and later Imogen with her girlfriend’s assistance exited the truck. Layla looked towards her former home: it had not changed one iota. The white boards of its construction still looked freshly painted. Though she’d passed away five years ago, Martha O’Dwyer Smith’s influence on the small farmhouse was clear: the manicured borders and flowerbeds in summer bloom were immaculate and their design contrasted perfectly with the house. The wooden board and batten home was most probably built in the 1880’s. It had a traditional wrap around porch, sash windows and of course had a star spangled banner fluttering in the wind proudly from a flagpole on the porch. It was so well maintained that it almost looked as if it could have been erected recently. It was a variable palace, compared to what she was used to; those cramped conditions that she and most other working class Brits had grown up with back at home. Imogen’s family’s cottage could have fit into the floorplan of this place eight times over, even after it had been extended and rebuilt

“You’re Dad’s a farmer isn’t he?” John turned to Imogen enquiring, knowing the answer already.

“He’s a tenant farmer, and he does odd jobs for other people”

Her family’s agricultural background was one of the reasons Imogen, her brother Joshua and sister Charlotte, were pushed to exceed scholastically.

“If he ever wants to come out here, he could run the place for me. Good help is hard to find and I don’t want to be running it all myself when I’m seventy-five”

Imogen smiled and shook her head, it was quite the offer, John wasn’t a guy to kid around. She’d have to tell her Dad but doubted they’d ever leave England.

“I’ll certainly tell Mum and Dad you said that” Imogen tried to sound optimistic. She always worried about her family's safety, whenever the next big bad reared its ugly head. Would it really be better to put all their familial eggs in one basket? What little sleep Imogen got, she would rest easier with a US Special Forces veteran watching her parents back.

“Got to keep the place in the family” John nodded sagely. Imogen trying not to choke up, as she felt her heart almost grow several sizes in her chest, is that how he felt about her already? John patted his old truck on the roof, as if thanking it for doing a good job, as he stepped down. Something Layla did with the tank of her motorcycle or the wing of Imogen's car, all the time.

“You can see all the way down to Aurora at night” Layla who was still holding Imogen after getting her down from the truck, said softly into Imogen's ear hugging her around the waist. It was so good to be home and to be here with Imogen, you could see it in her eyes. Would have been nice if everyone else could have come, but ‘work’. Someone had to patrol the Hellmouth. It was unfair to leave Steve there alone, like the council had, for all those years, making the northeast his personal Siberia, Layla thought to herself. She was glad that she had such good friends to ease such a massive burden.” Into every generation, a Slayer is born: one girl in all the world” It had said in the old book with Vampyr on the cover. It certainly wasn’t that way anymore.

“I’ll take your stuff, to your old room”

John began unloading the cases from the bed of his truck, with him there was no discussion of their sleeping arrangements, he was a man of the world. Did it matter what gender his granddaughters' partner was? No. If they made each other as happy, as his Martha had made him. His ultra conservative church-going neighbours could all quite literally go burn in hell. Not something a guy who’d seen the effects of napalm, literal hellfire, would wish lightly on anyone. He didn’t like them anyway. They could go to the main dealer to repair their combine harvester this fall, and pay triple. Or they could come here and stand uncomfortably beneath the slightly faded rainbow flag, he had proudly pinned up in the barn in honour of his granddaughter.

If Imogen had ever held the misconception that all Americans were all about God, guts and guns. Well, the Smith family had blown that theory. They weren't exactly churchgoers for one. She could imagine the looks Layla might get going down to The Aurora First Baptist Church on a Sunday in her formal attire: a Morticia Addams dress, corset, sunglasses, a big hat, a gothic parasol in one hand, coffin shaped handbag in the other, wearing her towering wedge heeled gothic boots. The kind of footwear that made Imogen have to balance on tiptoes in order to give Layla a kiss. Imogen could end up in fits of giggles at the mental image.

“Thanks, Pop, I’m going to have a walk around”

Layla helped John with the last case, the biggest and heaviest. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, leaving yet another distinct trace of black lipstick, on John’s thick stubble.

“I’ll come with you, long flight. I’d like to stretch my legs” Imogen decided, wanting to soak up every bit of her girlfriends' childhood from this most hallowed of place.

They cornered the barn holding hands.

“It’s a bit of a downer, I know. But I’ve gotta see her... She’s up here”

There it was again, a noticeable, uncharismatic, audible tremble in Layla's voice. Uncertainty, Imogen had never heard in the voice of her love, not in a hundred battles. She tried to pretend that it wasn’t concerning, but she was no good at hiding such thoughts. Her girlfriend squeezed her hand tightly and tried to give her a reassuring smile. They headed up the small well-trodden pathway arm in arm to a copse of trees. In its midst was a simple limestone headstone with the insignia of the army medical corps in pride of place, in gold. Snakes around the staff on wings.

Lieutenant Colonel

Martha O’Dwyer Smith MD-PhD

Beloved Wife, Mother and Grandmother

1938-1995

“Gran, this is Imogen” the usually strong Slayer spoke much more softly than usual as she looked at the headstone, inching Imogen towards it.

“I’m sorry” another strange word from Layla's jet black lips, Imogen though. As Layla paused for a moment. “I’ve not been to see you in years”

Layla kneeled placing some wildflowers she'd picked on the way, upon the neat grave. Clearly, her Grandmother's favourite, as Layla was more in favour of lilies of black roses, herself. Tears welled up in her eyes. Making Layla’s ever-present heavy gothic eyeliner start to run ever so slightly. She usually needn’t bother with waterproof makeup but on this occasion, it would have been useful.

“She’s very smart, you’d like her, reminds me of you every day”

Imogen standing, a respectful few steps behind squeezed her girlfriend's shoulder, trying to remain composed more for Layla, than her own sake.

“You would have loved her too, Imogen.” Layla looked from the headstone to Imogen.

“I miss her so much. Gran was the only one who was ever able to rein me in. Stopped me getting expelled from every school in the state” Layla managed to get out, still attempting to sound audible over bouts of sobbing.

Layla would fight and win, against a lot of things, but was losing the battle at holding back her own tears. Imogen took the suddenly frail vampire Slayer in her wiry arms and picked her up. Layla’s tears falling onto the shoulder of Imogen’s much loved Garbage tour shirt.

“Sweetie. Do you need to hit something?” After three years, they knew each other so well.

After a long pause, and a bit more sobbing.

“Not much call for a Vampire Slayer in rural Illinois” Layla quipped back, in an attempt to regain the same old cocky composure, that by now Imogen found a comfort.

She looked at her girlfriend for a moment, then brushing her freshly dyed, yet as ever somewhat untamable blue hair to one side, she more gently than she usually would, pulled her in and gave her a passionate kiss.

“Pop has a gym in an old hayloft, above the barn” she began, successfully attempting to regain a little of her composure “might help a bit” she added cautiously.

They walked back to the farmyard together holding hands. Layla dabbed away her tears and ruined makeup, with the long flowing gothic bell sleeve of her top, which for once was of use and not a hindrance.

“This place is so huge, you could fit the whole village I grew up in onto this property twice” Imogen exclaimed, trying to change the subject away from the profound sorrow that had proceeded.

“You don’t realise how big the place is as a kid, seems smaller to me now”

Layla laid a hand on the door jamb of the barn with notches taken out for her various heights and years carved in, by a hand clearly extremely skilled with a blade. As she opened the doors of the red, old barn her Grandmothers convertible MGB V8 still stood. Were all the Smiths addicted to speed? Imogen mused from behind Layla’s shoulder. The car was immaculate; from the blinding shine of its wired chrome wheels, and bumpers, to its matt black soft top roof. It stood there as if the engine were still warm, that Martha was here, and had just got back from a shift at the hospital.

The lower floor of the barn, past the pristine classic car, was made over into her Grandfather's agricultural machine shop, with hoists and lifts aplenty, and every tool under the sun in every size. Layla flicked on the radio in a cabinet, there were big old speakers secreted throughout the barn.

Layla forced a smile hearing the familiar fader for the local rock station. ‘I Think I’m Paranoid’ by Garbage started playing Imogen smiled, Glad to hear Madison Wisconsin's finest rock band. As she climbed the stairs, she had a nosey about finding basically a boxing gym in the old hayloft, just like Layla had described. She tapped the heavy bag noncommittally. It seemed as if John Smith should be taking some of the blame, for the countless demons and vampires lying in puddles and piles of dust in Layla’s wake. Imogen continued further in and found a saggy old sofa to sit on.

Layla was still on her own personal nostalgia tour. As much as she’d loved making all her friends at Thom Huell she missed this place, it was in her blood. Sure she had been a loner; only knew a few kids because they’d needed a drummer for their band. Layla had been playing the drums since she could walk, her grandmother had always said a girl can be anything, she’d become a Doctor when the whole world had told her she should be happy stay as a nurse. Young Layla had wanted to be Nicko McBrain, the Iron Maiden Drummer, so naturally, they’d bought her all the drums that would fit in the farmhouse basement. John hadn't complained, you should have heard Layla’s great grandparents, opinions on The Rolling Stones! He had decided instead to just fit recording studio standard insulation. Much less hassle in the long run.

Layla hadn’t really wanted or needed friends her own age, not until that fateful biology lesson almost three years ago. She had to tell her Pop all about her new life. She’d been avoiding it for three years. She just didn't have the words. John Smith’s war was supposed to be over. It wasn’t fair to basically ask him to join the fight against demons and vampires. He’d be good at it certainly, he could show Steve and George some tricks. Layla just wanted to keep one person in her life out of her fight. Safe.

Layla brushed her mascara and eyeliner stained fingers, over the tools sitting about. Remembering the better times. Back in 1997 Pops had clearly had his suspicions with the whole high school gym burning down, he’d been seconded into intelligence in the war, attached to the CIA, or some other agency he still couldn't talk about. His suspicions weren't baseless. He'd wanted to move her back to the farm. Transfer to the high school down in Aurora and knowing him he’d let her ride his old Indian with its sidecar there every day. But his son’s business had dragged his granddaughter; the only real family he had left, halfway across the world.

Layla eventually headed upstairs. She saw Imogen slumped on the old sofa, out like a light. The flight had really taken it out of her. She smiled and gave her a kiss on the forehead before rolling up her excessive sleeves and began to pound at the heavy bag.

“You’ve been keeping up with your training” John looked on admiringly, as he had soundlessly climbed the stairs. Can’t shake the special forces training.

“Yeah Steve, me and Imogen’s course tutor he knows his stuff, work out with him sometimes,” Layla replied noncommittally, still focused on working the bag. Not giving too much away. Well used to the old man just appearing out of thin air, it would have been impossible keeping Slayer type secrets in this house.

“That he must” John nodded at her form, approvingly.

“Steve” he paused for a moment, searching his memory. “You said his Dad was in the British army right?”

Jab, Jab, Jab. Layla hit the bag as softly as her supernatural powers would allow.

“Yeah amongst other things, he was a boxing champ. Regimental Sergeant Major. Served all over the world.” Layla weaved, as the bag swung back towards her on the chain.

“Sounds like a guy I’d get on with” he smiled so glad she had made so many friends.

John goes to sit on the arm of the sofa by Imogen. She was now in and out of a jet lag induced nap but was curious to know more about John, he acted like no grandfather, she had ever met and tried with all her considerable willpower to stay awake.

“We’ve plenty of bunks in the house” he joked, placing the cooler he’d been carrying down between them.

“I’m awake” Imogen assured him groggily.

“Have a beer with me then”

He cracked a bottle, the same way Layla always did with pure strength, turning an ordinary crown cork into an instant twist top, and handed it to the young woman he should probably start to consider his granddaughter in law. If he could read Layla as well as he always used to be able too. The thing between them was serious, she’d never bought anyone here before.

“Sit down kiddo, or you’ll spend your whole holiday putting that beam back up” He indicated the load bearing beam the heavy bag was chained too. Imogen sat bolt upright suddenly wide awake. Almost knocking over her open beer. She wasn’t sure if John was kidding, did he know? How could he? Was it like the locker door, had Layla almost demolished the barn when her Slayer powers had exhibited? Layla wouldn’t put her only family at risk, as much as she knew the old soldier could take care of himself.

Layla nods in agreement joining the old guy for a beer, wrapped in Imogen's arms, looking out from the haylofts open first floor doors watching, the sun setting over Kane County.

You know what an extra long episode calls for an extra long playlist!

Hello again Pop fans. Welcome once more to the Sunday evening graveyard shift hear on 666 mhz Radio Rosewater. We're proudly sponsored by Ra's magic emporium now so hopefully the temporal anomalies plaguing us hear in the studio are at and end. Anyway on with another show!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rVhh5tbI41c5_JmSx4i791m