JonnyBWiki - User contributions [en]

Worm

2011-04-20T07:03:49Z

75.83.149.175: /* Harm */

Worm

2011-04-20T07:02:23Z

75.83.149.175:

Worm

2011-03-28T22:43:27Z

75.83.149.175: /* Experience */

Worm

2011-03-28T22:42:56Z

75.83.149.175: /* Hx */

Worm

2011-03-17T04:41:56Z

75.83.149.175: /* Experience */

Worm

2011-03-12T15:31:02Z

75.83.149.175: /* Experience */

Worm

2011-03-08T19:47:30Z

75.83.149.175: /* Experience */

Worm

2011-03-07T21:17:47Z

75.83.149.175: /* Experience */

Worm

2011-03-03T00:07:00Z

75.83.149.175: /* Brainer Moves */

Worm

2011-03-03T00:06:51Z

75.83.149.175: /* Brainer Moves */

Worm

2011-03-02T21:11:01Z

75.83.149.175: /* Experience */

Worm

2011-03-02T21:10:53Z

75.83.149.175: /* Experience */

Worm

2011-03-01T20:35:53Z

75.83.149.175: /* Experience */

Worm

2011-02-28T16:40:03Z

75.83.149.175: /* Stats */

Worm

2011-02-27T16:52:35Z

75.83.149.175: /* Experience */

Worm

2011-02-27T16:50:15Z

75.83.149.175: /* Stats */

Worm

2011-02-26T23:27:59Z

75.83.149.175: /* Experience */

Worm

2011-02-26T23:26:29Z

75.83.149.175:

Worm

2011-02-26T05:07:18Z

75.83.149.175: /* Hx */

Worm

2011-02-26T05:06:49Z

75.83.149.175: /* Experience */

Worm

2011-02-25T17:27:00Z

75.83.149.175:

User:75.83.149.175

2011-02-23T00:06:24Z

75.83.149.175: Created page with "This is Blurry"

This is Blurry

Bristo

2011-02-23T00:05:57Z

75.83.149.175: /* Operator Moves */

[[Bristo]] - '''The Operator'''
==Skills==
{| Cool || +2
|-
| Hard || -1
|-
| Hot || +1
|-
| Sharp || +1
|-
| Weird || 0
|}

==Operator Moves==
'''Moonlighting:''' you get 2-juggling. Whenever there's a stretch of downtime in play, or between sessions, choose a number of your gigs to work. Choose no more than your juggling. Roll+cool. On a 10+, you get profit from all the gigs you chose. On a 7-9, you get profit from at least 1; if you chose more, you get catastrophe from 1 and profit from the rest. On a miss, catastrophe all around. The gigs you aren't working give you neither profit nor catastrophe. Whenever you get a new gig, you also get +1juggling.

'''Reputation:''' when you meet someone important (your call), roll+cool. On a hit, they've heard of you, and you say what they've heard; the MC will have them respond accordingly. On a 10+, you take +1forward for dealing with them as well. On a miss, they've heard of you, but the MC will decide what they've heard.

==Gear==
* 9mm (2-harm close loud)
* oddments worth 1-barter
* Gold age era gas mask (1-armor)

==Gigs==
===Paid===
''Surveillance'' - Keep Grunty up to speed on what the Baron is up to.

''Infiltration'' - Get back in good with the Hammers and find out what they're up to for [Darius's Char's Gang]

''Scavenging'' - Visit the Junkfields and find something awesome.

===Obligation===
''Avoiding Someone'' - Stay away from Stott!

===Notable characters===
[[Grunty]] - Local businessman and arm's dealer

[[Baron]] - Mayor of Mudwater

[[The Hammers]] - Bristo's former gang, sometime rivals to [Darius's Char's Gang] (MCC)

[[The Holy Knights of The Christian Brotherhood]] - Friendly(ish) group of choppers.

[[Stott]] - Bristo's former mentor, he's lookin' for PAYBACK (MCC)

==Look==
A small, energetic male who appears harmless at a glance. He is quite agile and powerful for his size. Bristo wears a grey knit cap, a battered black london fog style coat, some other rags beneath and a pair of combat boots. He also has an old gas mask.

==Current Hx and Experience==
===Hx===
* Lena 0
* Worm 0
* Max 2

===Experience===
None
==Other Hx==
===Worm===
Bristo remembers his first encounter with Worm:

Having become somewhat of a spy, Bristo was aware of a Brainer in the parts who he needed to be really careful of. On his was back into town after an uneventful errand for Grunty, Bristo happened upon a man who had apparently been robbed and beaten, left just off the road to die in the scorching heat. Looking back, he can't remember how the man looked, just that he pitied him deeply, and felt compelled to help him.

Bristo assisted the man back into Mudwater, people gaping at him as he did. What were they looking at? He just carried that man to one of the inns, where he paid the innkeeper for a room and took the man to the bed to recover.

After that, days are blurred in his memory. He remembers being commanded to reveal everything he knows about someone in town, and also that the interrogator wasn't learning anything useful. All he remembers aside from that is pain.

When he woke up, the room looked unused except that he had been laying in the bed. He bolted up, and ran from the room. "Where's the man I brought here?" he asked the innkeeper. To Bristo's horror, the innkeeper asked "You mean the brainer?"

Bristo had been tricked by powers unknown into believing that Worm was a distressed traveler, but in fact it was a ruse (probably an idea planted in his mind by the Brainer) to get him somewhere where he could have his mental way with Bristo undisturbed.

Bristo, in shock, made his way back to Grunty's. When he told Grunty about all of this, Grunty's brows furrowed and he said "Worm's been working for Baron. I wonder what they think you know. And what they're up to."

'''Effect - Worm gets -1 HX from Bristo.'''

=== Mad Max ===
Bristo remembers his first encounter with Mad Max.

In order to maintain a somewhat legitimate reason for staying in town without too many questions arising, Bristo was put to work in Grunty's supply post. He would spend a few days a week behind the counter trading with the people passing through.

There was a large sliding door on the outside of Grunty's supply, and during the days it was wide open, facing the rest of the marketplace giving anyone inside a view of the goings-on. Anyone outside in the bright sun would have a tough time seeing into the shaded interior of the shop, making the counter a great place to observe people candidly.

One particularly bright day, Bristo was just coming to the counter from his small room in the back of the shop to take his shift when a group of the wackos from the Brotherhood traipsed into the market. And there at the head of the group was a man in a long black coat. There was just something about him...

"Who is this guy?" Bristo asked no one. Grunty, not realizing the question was rhetorical, peered around a shelf and squinted. "That's Reinholdt, he's cracked. He's also known as Mad Max, but don't call him that to his face."

Bristo watched the man as he stood up on a box at the intersection of one of the lanes between the stands of the market and began to preach. Or bark. Most of it sounded like raving.

"I'm out for a few minutes, Grunty." Bristo said and left the shop without waiting for a response. He went from stall to stall in the market, ever closer to the preacher who he could hear becoming more and more passionate about his sermon. Either that or was just getting louder, since the only people giving him their attention in any meaningful way were the people who had followed him into the market in the first place.

"How the faithful city has become a harlot, She who was full of justice! Righteousness once lodged in her, But now murderers!!"

'Oh, so he's one of these.' Bristo thought to himself as he moved to another stall. The man continued, foam spraying occasionally from the corners of his mouth.

"Your silver has become dross, Your drink diluted with water!! our rulers are rebels And companions of thieves; Everyone loves a bribe And chases after rewards. They do not defend the orphan, Nor does the widow’s plea come before them. Mudwater, turn from your wicked ways or God will wipe you all from this earth, and take us, the sanctified Holy Knights of the Christian Brotherhood, to be with him in Glory!"

At this, his followers dispersed, and Mad Max stood watching the comings and goings of the marketplace for a few minutes, judgement oozing from his eyes.

Finally, Reinhardt stepped down from the box and wandered off towards the Church of the Brotherhood. Folllowing discreetly, Bristo kept to different stalls, talking to their keepers, while keeping an eye on Reinhardt. Finally, when Reinhardt should have taken a left, he took a right. Being outside of the market now, Bristo kept to shadows and other cover to ensure his stealth. Reinhardt led him on a twisted journey through alleys and between huts for 10 minutes (clearly trying to arrive somewhere unseen by anyone else) until finally he ducked into the door of a larger house - one of the ones from long ago. Bristo ended his shadowing at this point and returned to Grunty's place.

"What's that old house on the far end of the row three rows down?" he asked Grunty. "Brothel. And a damn nasty one too, if you want your dick to fall off that's a good place to figure a way of making it happen. Why?" "No reason."

About a week later, when Bristo was watching the counter again, a deep rumbling could be heard, getting louder - approaching. Finally I big motorcycle pulled up in from of Grunty's and the engine was killed. In walked Mad Max, who sauntered up to the counter and said "I need fuel." They walked out to the bike together, and Bristo measured off a few gallons of gasoline from the tanks below the ground and funnelled them into the tank on the bike. When the job was done, Reinholdt handed Bristo several odd items in trade for the fuel. As he was about to kickstart the bike, Bristo said "Forgetting something?"

Reinholdt looked at him, confused and at the same time pissed off that this guy was wasting his time.

"You might need these." Bristo said with a polite smile, as he tucked a small box of condoms into the breast pocket of Reinholdt's coat.

Mad Max's eyes narrowed, evil behind them. Bristo gave him a taunting wink.

===Lena===
After his time with the Hammers and before winding up in Mudwater (about a year ago, maybe a bit more) Bristo was in a small town, the name of which he can't recall - it's always right on the tip of his tongue. He had found some work as a messenger, and was passing through this particular hole when night began to fall. Not wanting to trouble anyone or draw too much attention to himself, he made for the bar, and rented a room for the night.

At about midnight, there was a big commotion coming from downstairs, and Bristo awoke. A familiar voice was hollering madly in the bar. Stott! Bristo cracked the door open and spied downstairs. There he was, burnt and insane. And supremely pissed off! After barely a moment, Stott's head whipped around to the cracked open door, and Bristo knew he had been made! He slammed and locked the door, then sprinted through the room gathering the few things he had before jumping out the window into a heap of rubbish. How had Stott tracked him down!?! No time for that! Bristo flew through a few alleys, Stott howling behind him screaming for his blood.

When all seemed hopeless, suddenly there she was. A lady in a strange looking van, beckoning him inside. He dove in, and the door was quickly but quietly shut behind him. The lights were out, and they were silent. They listened as the madman's muderous howling changed to a wail when he realized he'd lost his quarry. Bristo spent the night and most of the next day in the van hiding, and there he got to know Lena.

When it became clear that Stott was going to wait for Bristo to surface again, Lena packed up her van to leave town with Bristo hidden safely in the back. As soon as she hit the main drag and it became apparent she was leaving town, Stott ran in front of her van and demanded at gunpoint that she let him look in the back. She told him to piss off and drove off with no regard for the crazy man.

Unable to leave the town where his prey might still be hiding, Stott held his head and howled madly.

'''EFFECT - LENA GETS HX+2 FROM BRISTO.'''

Worm

2011-02-22T16:52:48Z

75.83.149.175:

Worm

2011-02-22T16:52:21Z

75.83.149.175:

Worm

2011-02-22T16:50:59Z

75.83.149.175: /* Lena */

Worm

2011-02-22T16:49:58Z

75.83.149.175: /* Bristo */

Worm

2011-02-22T16:48:33Z

75.83.149.175: /* Brainer Moves */

[[Worm]] - The Brainer
==Stats==
* COOL +1
* ''HARD +1''
* HOT -2
* ''SHARP +1''
* WEIRD +2

==Brainer Moves==
'''Deep brain scan:''' when you have time and physical intimacy with someone - mutual intimacy like holding them in your arms, or 1-sided intimacy like they're restrained to a table - you can read them more deeply than normal. Roll+weird. On a 10+, hold 3. On a 7-9, hold 1. While you're reading them, spend your hold to ask their player questions, 1 for 1:
* what was your character's lowest moment?
* for what does your character crave forgiveness, and of whom?
* what are your character's secret pains?
* in what ways are your character's mind and soul vulnerable?
On a miss, you inflict 1-harm (ap) upon your subject, to no benefit

'''In-brain puppet strings:''' when you have time and physical intimacy with someone - again, mutual or 1-sided - you can plant a command inside their mind. Roll+weird. On a 10+, hold 3. On a 7-9, hold 1. At your will, no matter the circumstances, you can spend your hold 1 for 1:
* inflict 1-harm (ap)
* they take -1 right now
If they fulfill your command, that counts for all your remaining hold. On a miss, you inflict 1-harm (ap) upon your subject, to no benefit.

==Gear and Barter==
* Hidden knives (2-harm, hand, infinite)
* Violation glove (hand, hi-tech): For purposes of brainer moves, mere skin contact counts as time and intimacy
* Receptivity drugs (tag, hi-tech): Tagging someone gives you +1hold if you then use a brainer move on them.
* Oddments worth 5-barter
* A thick, padded long coat (1-armor)

==Look==
Male, limbs a little too long for his heavily worn, heavily aged suit. Bald, network of small incision scars across his head, pale face, deep-set eyes. Awkward body, like he was put together with the wrong size pieces.
==Other Hx==
===REINHARDT===
Lord Commander Maximillian Reinhardt lectured a greasy-haired bike thug about life in Mudwater while under his feet, lying as motionless as a corpse under the floorboards, Worm listened. Through a knothole in one wooden slat, Worm watched Reinhardt's face as he preached about protecting innocents and defending justice. If he would only cast his eyes downward for a moment, their eyes would meet and things would quickly become interesting for everyone involved. But he didn't look down. Worm knew he wouldn't.

"An angel of the Lord," a voice whispered in his left ear. "False prophet!" something hissed in his right. It was irrelevant, really. The voices could bicker about spirituality all day if they desired; it made no difference to Worm. What mattered was the truth. Baron wanted to know what what kind of scam Reinhardt was working with this gang of apes, so Worm came to find out. He could have grabbed one of the Brothers and taken him to his secret room and asked him questions, oh so many questions and dig and dig and dig... or he could have waited until Reinhardt had fallen asleep in the filthy sty he called a room and taken the answers quietly, with no fuss, as he had done to so many others. But sometimes, in Worm's experience, there is much to be learned by simply watching, and listening.

Now he listened to Reinhardt describe him as an abomination and spoke of "necessary evils" and "the greater good." Worm listened, and as he listened he began to frown. Not because he thought ill of him - Worm knew perfectly well what the people of Mudwater and beyond thought of him - but because when Reinhardt spoke of Worm's redemption and the possibility of one day becoming a good man, he saw that Reinhardt actually believed the bilge he was spewing. This was no con. Reinhardt actually believed that he had all the answers. Worm's frown deepened. There was not much that stirred the flat, black surface of his emotions, but a man claiming to know the One Indisputable Truth was always guaranteed to set it to rippling. Truth was Worm's domain and he did not like trespassers.

"Angel!" a voice whispered. "Devil!" Dangerous either way, Worm decided. He watched through the knothole as Reinhardt accused the man to whom he spoke of spying for him, and sent him to his death. Worm's frown shriveled into a grin. To think that he would resort to such crude methods of gathering information. He watched Reinhardt carefully as his apes led the poor man away. Interesting, Worm thought. How very interesting.

'''EFFECT: Reinhardt quite evidently dislikes and distrusts me. I ignore the Hx he tells me and put Hx + 3 instead.'''

===Bristo===
Worm stretched his neck on either side, willing the muscles to relax but they just wouldn’t. He was tired, uncomfortable, and, above all else, frustrated. He tugged at his collar and sleeves for the millionth time as he turned back to the motionless figure lying unconscious on the cheap bed. Bristo’s head was beaded with sweat, his limbs all askew, tangled in the sheets. Outside the wind blew hard and carried a voice to him, speaking in a language Worm didn’t know, all consonants and guttural growls, words as hard as Worm had ever heard but he angrily pushed them out of his mind. He had no more patience for nonsense.

The room was small, cramped, dirty. The ceiling felt too low, the walls too narrow, to accommodate his height. He had worked in worse spaces, but never for so long, and never - NEVER - without his beloved suit. It had been Baron’s idea, of course. Worm would never have come up with such a terrible plan if left to his own devices. Posing as a wounded traveller to gain this man’s trust and lure him into an interrogation? Terrible. And leaving his suit at home and dressing in these... rags? Worm tugged at his collar and sleeves with disgust. They felt like sandpaper against his skin. Terrible. But Baron had insisted.

“I need to fucking know,” he had said, a vein in his forehead pulsing. “I need to know what Grunty is doing. Sending out this guy, Bristo, on recon missions? What the fuck? So stop fucking bitching and get this done. This is the way to do it, because I sure as hell am not getting any answers any other way.”

Worm had watched him carefully, his face as blank as ever. But deep inside, Worm was worried. He didn’t need to probe the depths of Baron’s mind to see that he was starting to crack. The pressures were beginning to pile up. Reinhardt’s gang of sweaty thugs was gaining traction in the community. Attempted raids were happening with alarming regularity. And now this Templeton had shown up, something that clearly bothered Baron a great deal. If Baron snapped and lost control of Mudwater, the status quo would change dramatically in the little town. And right now, the status quo was the only thing that kept the people of this town from burning Worm alive.

But Worm had just nodded and done as Baron had asked. He had delicately, carefully folded his suit and reluctantly clothed himself in dirty travelling wear. He had waited by the side of the road for Bristo to return from one of his little sojourns. He had... suggested that he take Worm to an inn. And there they had been for the last two days, Worm asking questions and Bristo unable to answer to any satisfaction. He asked and probed and dug and scraped and still nothing of any use. He learned things about this little man that Bristo didn’t even know, secrets he hid so deep down that they had been lost - almost, but nothing about Grunty’s big picture. He was just a piece in the game, moving across the board without knowing why.

Worm sighed. He knew Baron would be angry. He would ask why he had stopped digging so quickly. He would question Worm’s dedication to his art, an accusation that Worm found particularly affecting. It wouldn’t be too hard, staying and digging some more. There are always more questions to ask, and the answers are always so revealing.

But no. No more. Worm gathered his things and left. There was nothing left to be learned here.

'''EFFECT: I’ve been watching Bristo carefully, in secret. I ignore the Hx he tells me and put Hx+3 instead.'''

===Lena===
The plastic horse was small and brown. One side of it had melted slightly under some kind of intense heat but it was otherwise unmarred. Worm held the toy and rubbed this thumb across the smooth ripples on the melted side. He closed his eyes and waited for the horse to speak to him, but all he heard was the wind outside and soft, steady breathing. There weren’t even any whispers, telling him conflicting stories about how he would die. Just silence and a soft snore.

Worm scowled and set the toy horse back amongst the other odds and ends that filled one of the many crates that were stacked in the back of Lena’s truck. The crate was full of an assortment of small objects, without any apparent sense of organization. A tape measure. A seashell, cracked down the middle. A spool of thread. A scratched Coca-Cola bottle. A lunchbox full of bottlecaps. A Christmas tree ornament. An empty picture frame. A rotting leather wallet. Plastic keychain. Debris from another world.

He held his hand above it, closing his eyes and concentrating. Straining to hear something, feel something, anything. Silence. Snoring.

Lena lie sleeping on a mattress in the corner, blankets wrapped tight around her. Worm glared in her direction. Jealousy was not an emotion with which Worm often had to contend; he knew what he was and he had never desired what others called a normal life. But here, standing in the back of a truck over a sleeping woman, Worm seethed with it.

Worm didn’t remember much from his time before settling in Mudwater, but he remembered New Morocco. He had spent some time there, looking for someone, and had done some work for the local authorities. Some merchants were being held for questioning after an argument in the market turned deadly and Worm had been brought in to get to the bottom of things. But when he arrived, he discovered that he wasn’t the only one.

He had watched Lena hold the gun and learn things from it. She touched the gun and knew who had been the one holding it. Worm had heard of people who could get objects to speak but had never seen one in action. It made him furious. She had not had to probe, or dig or coerce, she hadn’t even asked a fucking question. She just touched the gun and knew.

Now she was here in Mudwater and Worm loomed over her sleeping body like a spectre. His body trembled to know how she did it, how she could simply touch something and see all of its secrets bared before her. To have that kind of power...

The violation glove was cool and comforting on his hand. Neuro-contacts vibrated pleasantly against his palm as he flexed his fist. All he had to do was reach forward and lay his hand upon her and he could flip through her secrets like pages in a great tome. He would learn all he could and maybe, just maybe, come away with the gift of Sight.

“Not yet,” a voice whispered. “Soon,” joined in a second. “Very soon,” came a third. Worm flexed his hand again and the contacts stilled. He would listen to the voices this time. He was in no particular hurry.

'''EFFECT: Lena has unknowingly slept in my presence. I ignore what she tells me and put Hx+3 instead.'''

Worm

2011-02-22T16:46:19Z

75.83.149.175: /* Stats */

[[Worm]] - The Brainer
==Stats==
* COOL +1
* ''HARD +1''
* HOT -2
* ''SHARP +1''
* WEIRD +2

==Brainer Moves==
'''Deep brain scan:''' when you have time and physical intimacy with someone — mutual intimacy like holding them in your arms, or 1-sided intimacy like they’re restrained to a table — you can read them more deeply than normal. Roll+weird. On a 10+, hold 3. On a 7–9, hold 1. While you’re reading them, spend your hold to ask their player questions, 1 for 1:
* what was your character’s lowest moment?
* for what does your character crave forgiveness, and of whom?
* what are your character’s secret pains?
* in what ways are your character’s mind and soul vulnerable?
On a miss, you inflict 1-harm (ap) upon your subject, to no benefit

'''In-brain puppet strings:''' when you have time and physical intimacy with someone — again, mutual or 1-sided — you can plant a command inside their mind. Roll+weird. On a 10+, hold 3. On a 7–9, hold 1. At your will, no matter the circumstances, you can spend your hold 1 for 1:
* inflict 1-harm (ap)
* they take -1 right now
If they fulfill your command, that counts for all your remaining hold. On a miss, you inflict 1-harm (ap) upon your subject, to no benefit.

==Gear and Barter==
* Hidden knives (2-harm, hand, infinite)
* Violation glove (hand, hi-tech): For purposes of brainer moves, mere skin contact counts as time and intimacy
* Receptivity drugs (tag, hi-tech): Tagging someone gives you +1hold if you then use a brainer move on them.
* Oddments worth 5-barter
* A thick, padded long coat (1-armor)

==Look==
Male, limbs a little too long for his heavily worn, heavily aged suit. Bald, network of small incision scars across his head, pale face, deep-set eyes. Awkward body, like he was put together with the wrong size pieces.
==Other Hx==
===REINHARDT===
Lord Commander Maximillian Reinhardt lectured a greasy-haired bike thug about life in Mudwater while under his feet, lying as motionless as a corpse under the floorboards, Worm listened. Through a knothole in one wooden slat, Worm watched Reinhardt's face as he preached about protecting innocents and defending justice. If he would only cast his eyes downward for a moment, their eyes would meet and things would quickly become interesting for everyone involved. But he didn't look down. Worm knew he wouldn't.

"An angel of the Lord," a voice whispered in his left ear. "False prophet!" something hissed in his right. It was irrelevant, really. The voices could bicker about spirituality all day if they desired; it made no difference to Worm. What mattered was the truth. Baron wanted to know what what kind of scam Reinhardt was working with this gang of apes, so Worm came to find out. He could have grabbed one of the Brothers and taken him to his secret room and asked him questions, oh so many questions and dig and dig and dig... or he could have waited until Reinhardt had fallen asleep in the filthy sty he called a room and taken the answers quietly, with no fuss, as he had done to so many others. But sometimes, in Worm's experience, there is much to be learned by simply watching, and listening.

Now he listened to Reinhardt describe him as an abomination and spoke of "necessary evils" and "the greater good." Worm listened, and as he listened he began to frown. Not because he thought ill of him - Worm knew perfectly well what the people of Mudwater and beyond thought of him - but because when Reinhardt spoke of Worm's redemption and the possibility of one day becoming a good man, he saw that Reinhardt actually believed the bilge he was spewing. This was no con. Reinhardt actually believed that he had all the answers. Worm's frown deepened. There was not much that stirred the flat, black surface of his emotions, but a man claiming to know the One Indisputable Truth was always guaranteed to set it to rippling. Truth was Worm's domain and he did not like trespassers.

"Angel!" a voice whispered. "Devil!" Dangerous either way, Worm decided. He watched through the knothole as Reinhardt accused the man to whom he spoke of spying for him, and sent him to his death. Worm's frown shriveled into a grin. To think that he would resort to such crude methods of gathering information. He watched Reinhardt carefully as his apes led the poor man away. Interesting, Worm thought. How very interesting.

'''EFFECT: Reinhardt quite evidently dislikes and distrusts me. I ignore the Hx he tells me and put Hx + 3 instead.'''

===Bristo===
Worm stretched his neck on either side, willing the muscles to relax but they just wouldn’t. He was tired, uncomfortable, and, above all else, frustrated. He tugged at his collar and sleeves for the millionth time as he turned back to the motionless figure lying unconscious on the cheap bed. Bristo’s head was beaded with sweat, his limbs all askew, tangled in the sheets. Outside the wind blew hard and carried a voice to him, speaking in a language Worm didn’t know, all consonants and guttural growls, words as hard as Worm had ever heard but he angrily pushed them out of his mind. He had no more patience for nonsense.

The room was small, cramped, dirty. The ceiling felt too low, the walls too narrow, to accommodate his height. He had worked in worse spaces, but never for so long, and never - NEVER - without his beloved suit. It had been Baron’s idea, of course. Worm would never have come up with such a terrible plan if left to his own devices. Posing as a wounded traveller to gain this man’s trust and lure him into an interrogation? Terrible. And leaving his suit at home and dressing in these... rags? Worm tugged at his collar and sleeves with disgust. They felt like sandpaper against his skin. Terrible. But Baron had insisted.

“I need to fucking know,” he had said, a vein in his forehead pulsing. “I need to know what Grunty is doing. Sending out this guy, Bristo, on recon missions? What the fuck? So stop fucking bitching and get this done. This is the way to do it, because I sure as hell am not getting any answers any other way.”

Worm had watched him carefully, his face as blank as ever. But deep inside, Worm was worried. He didn’t need to probe the depths of Baron’s mind to see that he was starting to crack. The pressures were beginning to pile up. Reinhardt’s gang of sweaty thugs was gaining traction in the community. Attempted raids were happening with alarming regularity. And now this Templeton had shown up, something that clearly bothered Baron a great deal. If Baron snapped and lost control of Mudwater, the status quo would change dramatically in the little town. And right now, the status quo was the only thing that kept the people of this town from burning Worm alive.

But Worm had just nodded and done as Baron had asked. He had delicately, carefully folded his suit and reluctantly clothed himself in dirty travelling wear. He had waited by the side of the road for Bristo to return from one of his little sojourns. He had... suggested that he take Worm to an inn. And there they had been for the last two days, Worm asking questions and Bristo unable to answer to any satisfaction. He asked and probed and dug and scraped and still nothing of any use. He learned things about this little man that Bristo didn’t even know, secrets he hid so deep down that they had been lost - almost, but nothing about Grunty’s big picture. He was just a piece in the game, moving across the board without knowing why.

Worm sighed. He knew Baron would be angry. He would ask why he had stopped digging so quickly. He would question Worm’s dedication to his art, an accusation that Worm found particularly affecting. It wouldn’t be too hard, staying and digging some more. There are always more questions to ask, and the answers are always so revealing.

But no. No more. Worm gathered his things and left. There was nothing left to be learned here.

'''EFFECT: I’ve been watching Bristo carefully, in secret. I ignore the Hx he tells me and put Hx+3 instead.'''

===Lena===
The plastic horse was small and brown. One side of it had melted slightly under some kind of intense heat but it was otherwise unmarred. Worm held the toy and rubbed this thumb across the smooth ripples on the melted side. He closed his eyes and waited for the horse to speak to him, but all he heard was the wind outside and soft, steady breathing. There weren’t even any whispers, telling him conflicting stories about how he would die. Just silence and a soft snore.

Worm scowled and set the toy horse back amongst the other odds and ends that filled one of the many crates that were stacked in the back of Lena’s truck. The crate was full of an assortment of small objects, without any apparent sense of organization. A tape measure. A seashell, cracked down the middle. A spool of thread. A scratched Coca-Cola bottle. A lunchbox full of bottlecaps. A Christmas tree ornament. An empty picture frame. A rotting leather wallet. Plastic keychain. Debris from another world.

He held his hand above it, closing his eyes and concentrating. Straining to hear something, feel something, anything. Silence. Snoring.

Lena lie sleeping on a mattress in the corner, blankets wrapped tight around her. Worm glared in her direction. Jealousy was not an emotion with which Worm often had to contend; he knew what he was and he had never desired what others called a normal life. But here, standing in the back of a truck over a sleeping woman, Worm seethed with it.

Worm didn’t remember much from his time before settling in Mudwater, but he remembered New Morocco. He had spent some time there, looking for someone, and had done some work for the local authorities. Some merchants were being held for questioning after an argument in the market turned deadly and Worm had been brought in to get to the bottom of things. But when he arrived, he discovered that he wasn’t the only one.

He had watched Lena hold the gun and learn things from it. She touched the gun and knew who had been the one holding it. Worm had heard of people who could get objects to speak but had never seen one in action. It made him furious. She had not had to probe, or dig or coerce, she hadn’t even asked a fucking question. She just touched the gun and knew.

Now she was here in Mudwater and Worm loomed over her sleeping body like a spectre. His body trembled to know how she did it, how she could simply touch something and see all of its secrets bared before her. To have that kind of power...

The violation glove was cool and comforting on his hand. Neuro-contacts vibrated pleasantly against his palm as he flexed his fist. All he had to do was reach forward and lay his hand upon her and he could flip through her secrets like pages in a great tome. He would learn all he could and maybe, just maybe, come away with the gift of Sight.

“Not yet,” a voice whispered. “Soon,” joined in a second. “Very soon,” came a third. Worm flexed his hand again and the contacts stilled. He would listen to the voices this time. He was in no particular hurry.

'''EFFECT: Lena has unknowingly slept in my presence. I ignore what she tells me and put Hx+3 instead.'''