Holding Hope to the End

With our KTDA characters, how they die is as important as how they live. To die protecting someone you love? What could mean more...

That's what happened to Tom-F & Jade. They endured so much, conquered so much, even planned their wedding & their life together.

It wasn't meant to be, yet they both held hope until the end. What follows is just that...the end...


Tom's End
Post #8751

*Safe. It's what Jade allows herself to feel, with his arms around her. She buries her face in his shoulder and begins to talk. She tells him about Darrow. After everything, to be taken for a slave--AGAIN--but she doesn't flinch from telling him the truth. All of it. She can't bring herself to look into Tom's face. She feels dirty, but a bath won't help this no matter how hard she scrubbed.*

Jade: I couldn't--couldn't stop--I'm sorry, Tom. I tried, I really tried--I can't make all this go away. I have to find a way to live with it. *fearfully she asks* Can you?

Tom-F: *holding her close* I can.

*As his arms tighten around her, Jade closes her eyes.* (It's all right. It will be all right. Tom says it will--I believe him. Love him. So much.)

*Rain against the window lulls her. She can hardly keep her eyes open.*

Jade: *murmurs* Can we sleep awhile, Tom? Then go home? I want to go home.

Tom-F: Rest, then we'll go home. (Home?) *he wonders, having no idea what home is anymore...not now...he'll tell her...later.*

------------
*Sun filters through the slats covering the windows, throwing stripes of light across the bed where Jade sleeps. Caught in a dream. Trapped in a nightmare. Reliving her worst fears.* "Make it stop. Tom--make them stop!"

*She bolts upright, eyes wide with panic, clutching the blanket and breathing in great gulps of air. The nightmare lingers behind her eyes--fears that only overpower her when she's asleep and vulnerable.*

Jade: (Was it all a dream? Only a dream? Tom...)

------------
*Tom-F had left Jade sleeping but he himself hadn't slept. Nothing Jade said had changed his feelings for her, he loved her deeply, completely. But he felt a slow burn whenever he thought of the bartender, Darian, Vale and especially Darrow.*

*The narrow dark corridors reek of spilled beer and greasy food. Trash litters the place, and there is the occasional drunk hunched against the wall. He trips over some of it as he heads to the stairwell.*

Tom-F: (Can't leave fast enough from this whole stinking, sleazy town.)

*Tom swore he would exact revenge on those who'd wronged Jade. But that would wait til after he got Jade away. The moment Jade woke, he would take her from this place.* (I'll make us a home, a real home for the two of us.)

*Distracted and brooding, Tom-F shoves open the door to the stairwell and lets it slam behind him, not realizing it's darker than it should---*

*The attack is swift. Before he can yell, Tom-F is grabbed from behind, his head pulled back--a knife flashes--*

*The deed is done. They leave Tom-F lying on the floor.*

*Tom wants to shout out, call Ishmael. Jade. He gathers his breath and tries but all that comes is a low gurgle. He can't even get up. Weakly he reaches up to his throat where hot blood gushes out fast--he knows he's dying.*

*Before his eyes, snapshots of his life flash. His triumphs and failures. His parents, the adults who helped him after the Virus. Tom-F Enterprises, his people, his brother dying, the hurricane. The night he first saw Jade, when he proposed, loving her, their Solstice night together... feeling alive with her..the pain of losing her...the reborn hope when he finds she still lives... last night holding her once more...*

*It's getting harder to breathe. He sees a familiar figure approaching.*

"Hey, big brother. Been a while."

*Tom-F silently cries out his brother's name. He's standing there, his voice so familiar.*

"Knew we'd meet again. Time to go now."

*Finally Tom can answer.* "I can't. Jade--I love her. I won't leave her."

"It's not time her time. Don't worry. You'll see her again. But now," *he offers Tom a hand, who hesitates before grasping it and standing up.* "C'mon, brother, time for us to go."

*The brothers leave arm in arm.*

*On the filthy floor, Tom-F's heart stops. With his final breath, he whispers his beloved's name... Jade...*

------------
*The room is empty. Nothing left to show that anyone was there, even for a little while.*

*Downstairs the Bartender leans back, enjoying a glass of his own personal finest.*

Bartender: *smiles* (Hard to get the best of me in my own place, my own town. Everything always goes my way eventually.)

*He considers the knife on the bar in front of him, still wet with the man's blood. It had been too easy. Too predictable. The girl, too. Hadn't taken long, to hustle her out and ship her south.*

Bartender: (Shoulda done that right off, for all the trouble she caused me. Ah, well. No problems now. Just means I get paid for that one twice.)

*He turns out the lamp, leaves the empty bar, goes with his guards up to his own room... wondering what new opportunities will come his way tomorrow.*

~~~~~~~~
-Chyna

Photo source: copyright Cloud-9 "The Tribe"

How We Remember

A lot of people don't agree with me, but as much as we hate to kill off characters--especially good characters--I always appreciate the drama that the process brings to the game & to our storytelling. It depends on how it's handled of course, but here follows a great example. The character of Bishop was minor, yet he played a pivotal role in the lives of other characters, especially for Chyna (who he loved in vain) & for Brena (who he didn't quite know how to love). His death left a hole, for sure. The player behind the "Brena" character (a great guy from Israel) did a really excellent job of burying Bishop and summarizing their situation. I hope you think so, too.



The Funeral
Post #7723, June 2006

*The sun was rising over the sea miles away. Closer, the river valley could be seen and yet closer, a body lying on a hilltop in the growing sunlight with one figure standing over it.*

*She stood there in white, staring down on the body, at his lips, his face, into his eyes. She looked for the last time. Leaning over, she kissed his cold lips and closed his eyes. His pain was over, his path finished. He had gone to a better place.*

*Ishmael stood on the opposite ridge looking out at the beauty of the morning. He smiled to himself. She had come. The harsh cold world hadn't won completely yet--she still had some warmth in her heart. He walked towards her. No others came with him. As Bishop had been alone in life, so he was in death. Ishmael only had let the ones who knew him come, and at the camp there were not many.*

Brena: There should be more. Prince should be here. And Chyna, and Jade, others...)

*She looked out towards the sea, toward a distant cliff, and she smiled sadly to herself. In her heart, she knew they could see each other. Hearing the rush of the waves and the calling of seabirds, she knew that Chyna was here. At least her spirit was.*

*When she had seen Bishop for the first time, that horrible day on Merchant Street, he had not looked like much. But then she had seen him when he had came to bet on her at the fight club, had then invited the winner to dinner. So much had happened, so much...*

*Tom-f arrived. Standing to Brena's left, he looked down at the face of one of the most successful merchants he knew. This man who laid here before him was the best at getting information, was the only one who could get some of the rarer stuff, and was a good friend. Even in death, Bishop had done him one last favor...produced one last miracle.*

*On Brena's other side stood Ishmael, looking down on Chyna's friend. A fellow merchant who had lost his way because of love--love for one dead, and love for one that Ishmael felt didn't know what love was anymore. The world had been too hard for her.*

Brena: *softly* He volunteered to go with us, to get the cure. He left all he knew that day in hopes of meeting others. But he didn't. All he did that day was leave one love to die, and then love another that he couldn't love. Not many knew him, the strong good-looking man he was, because he acted as another to survive. We all did what we had to, Bishop. Yet you lost everything trying--you sacrificed more than any of us. You deserved more than I could give, yet you did all you could for others. For Chyna, you sacrificed everything to give her that cure. You loved her, you always loved her...

*Tom-F looked up at Brena and signaled Ishmael. Before Brena could say anything more, they stepped toward the body, picking it up, moving it into the grave that had already been dug. Together the two men started shoveling dirt onto the body. When they finished, Ishmael brought forward a rock he had been carving all night. Upon the rock, carved in deep letters, were the words: "In life love separated them. In death, united." They rested it at the top of the grave. Brena placed a bouquet of spring flowers.*

Tom-F: Lets go.

Ishmael: *with a long look at the grave* Good-bye. 

Brena: *softly* I'll...stay here a bit.

*Ishmael and Tom-F hesitated then walked toward the camp, where some figures were approaching them. Together they turn towards the road.*

*Brena stared down at the grave. When the others were out of sight, she dropped to her knees, her eyes filling with tears. Pounding on the grave with her fist she cried.*

Brena: How could you-- How? You left me! Why, Bishop? Why couldn't we just love each other? Why was that so hard?"

*But there are no answers. The woman in white cries softly, crying for the man she loved but lost.*

*As the morning sun rises, its light catches a white chess piece laying in the grass.*

~~~~~~

-Chyna

Photo source: copyright Cloud-9 "The Tribe"

9 Tribal Years, and 10 Coming Up

Today is the 1st day of our 10th year with "Keep The Dream Alive" rpg. Yesterday we marked the end of our 9th year in the game -- 9 tremendous years.

Players have come & gone. We've celebrated incredible characters & plots. We've weathered a lot of storms together. We've made friendships to last a lifetime.

We've stayed tribal.

Kudos to the awesome tv show that inspires us.

Hugs to all my mods & players & readers.

Here's to a Great Year #10.

Visit us soon!

-Chyna

Art courtesy of the great one, Pride, in Boston!

Tribal Girl Got Game!

I can't help it--she's my favorite KTDA character. Dear, crazy Villa. Give her an inch & she'll burn down the city! Put her together with Marionette, her soul-mate to the nth degree, and you've got a recipe for chaos.

And of course, as everyone knows, true love never ever runs smooth. Need proof? Read on, my friends, for a small sample.


Making Amends
Post #11483 -- December 2006

Villa walked into Val's place with an expression like thunder. At the bar she snagged a couple of tall bottles. Her boots were loud on the steps as she went upstairs to her room. She slammed the door so hard it echoed downstairs. She uncorked one of the bottles and chugged until it was empty.*

------------------
*Marionette's eyes were focused. He had been thinking of how he'd do this for a while. He knocked on the door to their room then pushed hard, swinging the door back.*

Marionette: Jeez, Villa. Way to sulk, huh? Thinking a king can be forced into submission--a king of demons to top it off. A great berserker like me? *laughing* You're a funny girl. Now stop being so bitchy. Just shut up, deal with it, and let's go.

*Marionette grabbed the bottle she was holding, pushed her slightly, then left the room with a laugh. Back downstairs, he returned the bottle to the serving girl and nodded.* "I'll be outside."

------------
*Anger blazing, Villa pulled out a pack and started tossing her stuff in it.*

Villa: Sulk? Me? Heavens no! Just a last drink in honor of an almost-- (Almost what?) *gulps air* King of Demons? King of Poodles more like it. Let's see how far he gets before that leash jerks him right back in the yard.

*When the bag was full she zipped it and tossed it over her shoulder. She left the room and headed down.*

*In the bar she stopped. The place was quiet. Faces looking...at her? Villa pasted on her widest smile.*

Villa: What? For me? You shouldn't have! *tries a theatrical bow and almost falls on her ass* Just continue what you were doin', guys. Man says "Go"--I'm outa here. *grins and tips a non-existant hat* It's been fun. Let's do it again some time.

*Laughing at the craziness, she headed out the door.*

------------
*Marionette was waiting.*

Marionette: Decided to come out to play, huh? Good times and parties all round, Villa.

*He brought his hand to his face and started to wipe off his white face paint, the black parts around his eyes, his extended smile...everything.*

Marionette: There we go. No more mask. *laughs slightly and relaxes* My name is Francis Marqui Killgrave. I was born over seas, learned the arts of combat and death. *laughs as he adds* Although I also appreciate long walks on the beach and strolls through the park. *bows with a smirkish smile* It's nice to meet you, miss. And you are....?

Villa: *genuinely startled* Francis, huh? or Marionette? or Wrath... *says the name softer, a touch of regret* Me? Just a girl. No friends. No ambitions. Not much more than you see. So tell me, Ace give you permission for this... change? Everything about it smells like bait in a trap. So I ask myself, trap for who? Couldn't be me--I'm not worth the time.

Marionette: *laughing* All of the above. The precursor, Villa. Before it was separated, there was a whole. That whole is...I. So how long have you been alone? Bet it's as long as I've been shut off by the world, right? We're like two peas in a pod. *peels off a surface layer of his coat to reveal a black trench coat, a white cross on the back and on his heart too with Villa's name written in red* The peas nobody else would touch, right?

Villa: You don't know me. I'm alone because I choose to be. I CHOOSE. This New World is a playground, a present from the Virus. I take my fun and let the rest go to hell. Nobody tells me what to do.

Marionette: I know you a lot--we are the same. You take your fun by force to assert your authority because you fear. You fear other people's authority over you. Everyone controls your life because you fear them giving you commands. This new world is your prison. I should know, it's mine as well. Like beasts in our cages, you and I. We're afraid of other people--you for their authority and control, me for their opinions and their control over what I am. I know you a lot better than you know yourself, Villa.

Villa: *coldly* Good for you, babe. You take what you think you know and shove it. Nobody cages me, nobody collars me. And if the world's a prison? *shrugs* It's big enough. But nobody controls me. *fingers the blade she can feel through her coat* I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're aiming for.

Marionette: *laughs at her misunderstanding* Come on, Villa, Wake the f**k up. Your cage is smaller than mine, your collar tighter. Nobody needs to control you--you do that. I don't want you to fear me. i want anything BUT that! If you feared me, how could we have that party, huh? *shrugs slightly* You don't need words to control someone, Villa. Actions and sh*t do it all, too. So? *grins* Enough of this serious sh*t, awright? *stretches and laughs again* I really need a drink.

Villa: (This isn't real--can't BE real--like Wrath wasn't real.) *a flash of menacing eyes and a malicious smile flits through her mind* (If..........) *That "if" keeps her from walking away*

Villa: You're not like me. You don't have a clue. But you do owe me a beer, Francis Marqui Killgrave. *glances toward the bar* I walked out with a standing ovation. Time for the encore?

Marionette: *shrugs* Whatever you say, crazy chick. And don't call me by my older name, please? It sucks, and it's way too stale. Let's leave it with Marionette, okay?

*Marionette walked to the door with a smile then stopped, waiting for her to go first.*

Marionette: Stage is yours, crazy chick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...and we definitely love her on stage!

-Chyna

Photo source: copyright Cloud-9 "The Tribe"

Building a World -- 5 beats 2!

On tv, The Tribe was definitely 2-D. The only senses the show could manipulate were sight & sound. Through them, the characters & the plot drew you in, made you care. That was exactly what we wanted and, ultimately, what we loved about the show.

As a viewer, you didn't worry so much about how Tribe-world tasted or smelled, if it was rough or smooth.

That's not the case with Keep The Dream Alive role-playing game. Our game is word-based, which presents specific challenges to bring players in & get them excited about our game world. To do it, we have to focus on touching all 5 senses. Luckily, with words, that's very do-able as long as you concentrate.

Ask any of our players. They'll tell you about Chyna's rants: "What does it feel like? What does it smell like? Describe everything so you can MAKE IT REAL for the reader!"

You know what? That's exactly what they do.

Tyla's reactions to Jet's Fight Club make you feel it--sticky tables & floors, the sounds of the fighters, the smell of stale beer & sweat... Ari has done the same with fight scenes, and Hawk in the City Clinic & in the wilderness. Sid made us experience his anguish at the loss of his son...and even the anguish he felt at beating Chyna in their cage-match. Krystal's loss of her love, Maggie's impressions of the people she meets at Home, the stories our bards tell -- there are so many good examples from so many good players that I can't begin to list them all. This is just a taste for you. If you aren't a KTDA member, you're missing something special.

So we are truly 5-D -- sight, sound, touch, taste & smell! That doesn't mean everything's all pleasant, tasting like steak or smelling like flowers. Our game-world continues to be a tough place that we endure & try to make better.

Come & see--or touch! or smell!--for yourself.

~~~~~~
-Chyna

Photo source: copyright Cloud-9 "The Tribe"