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291 checks

Paper ages quickly exposed to the greasy, moist air around the docks. This hasn't been out here for more than a week.

Only his left eye looks at you. The other one seems to have lost focus and is well off-target.

A sudden cramp wracks your body as an electricity runs through it, but there was no current.

The crackling void is different from the last time you used this phone in some inexpressible way.

Occurring at a perceptual level so low that it's hard to distinguish from things merely imagined, you hear a click somewhere down the line.

Somewhere within your third left intercostal space, the bullet by your heart makes its presence known with a nasty twinge.

Gripped tightly in her hand: a star-headed screwdriver.

She hesitates for a second.

Sounded like she really enjoyed saying 'fat sol stacks'. See if you can get her to say it again.

You hear the sound of a pen dropping onto a pad of paper, unused.

You hear a thump in the background.

You hear long, comfortable breaths. The sound of her mind wandering elsewhere.

Bodies incinerated before nerves had time to deliver their message of pain to the brain.

Her body incinerated before the nerves had time to deliver their message of pain to her brain.

Despite her protest, you hear her making a note.

Barely audible: a mechanical hum.

The camera whirrs.

The tram wires crackle above you, as if charged with new energy.

The inverse flash of sudden blackness--

Hold on. That sound... was that crinkling paper?

A rustle of paper and clanging metal as your attacker flees up the stairs.

Body: uninjured, if somewhat rattled.

Body: no major injuries, though you've sustained quite a beating.

Putrid sea-food breath, warm on your nape and in your ear.

The rash on his neck visibly throbs.

A brownish stain on the bricks, like a shadow cast by no one.

Full of untouched materials.

The sound of grinding metal echoes throughout the silo, rising and expanding like the tolling of a great gong.

Karolina's chest rises and falls, her blue, paper-thin eyelids twitching.

The fabric of his oversized shorts begins to sway.

The streets exhale around you. The shouts of partygoers slacken, and music thins to echoes. Beyond Party Alley, your asset awaits your signal.

Further down Party Alley, basslines thump and laughter echoes. But here, a silence settles.

Exploiting a blindspot. He knows what he's doing.

Headlines like 'Chapter 4: Your last chance to stay legal' and 'Chapter 7: Your Conscience and Me' immediately jump out at you.

A clear night, the moon nearly full. Visibility unlimited. Temperature 11 degrees and steady.

Skies clear today. A light breeze reminds you that your body is a cage, but not an unpleasant one. Temperature 11 degrees and steady.

A clear night. The profusion of stars reminds you that humanity guides itself by the light of the past. Temperature 11 degrees and stable.

Winds from the south make it hard to be present in the moment. Expect gusts up to 24 kph, becoming calm by evening.

Bands of light rain continue to move slowly north and east across the region. Walks home expected to be unseasonably melancholic. North wind 5-8 kph, becoming calm after midnight.

White and silver entwined... softness that should be light, but if you plunged your fingers into her fur, you'd find it thick and deep.

Not a strand moved. That is one solid-gelled mane.

The key appears to lie within the mangled plastic of the fracture-point. You'll need to prune a few millimetres before what's left can fit together.

Very hard to tell where the fracture point is. The plastic is simply too disfigured.

Covered in white, gooey spiderwebs of glue.

It cools in real time, re-solidifying before your eyes.

The mould that emerges looks... less than impermeable.

A clotted, sickly rainbow sludge, haunted by the tenuous remains of discernible shapes.

Around you, night drags the day out of sight.

291 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 4 of 6