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Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011

WHY YOU GOTTA BREAK A BROS HEART
The Ice has come. People have been muttering about it for Ages now. Thaumaturges and seers from across the globe in a variety of cultures have been talking about how the globe was entering a gradual phase of cooling, how increased shade and the effects of air elemental pollution would lead to buildup of icy blocks in the Gulf Stream... and other meaningless and uninteresting proclamations of dire doom. The northmen screamed the loudest, but they were always on about one end of the world or another and nobody paid much mind. A Convocation was held, and the Gods met, ate, drank, made merry, and made a pact which noone bothered to read or abide by but now the Ice has come. It's here faster than anyone could have known, it freezes so hard it burns, and it has managed to encircle the world in its grasp like an overweight and enthusiastic lover.

Gods have died before it. Spirit, Man, or Beast, none have been spared by loss to the cold or depredations of those fleeing it. You are no different.


Thaisaidain - Larissa, the Queen of Undeath Vampire Queen

At it's height Thaisaidain had been a powerful land, and in death it was no less as mighty or well-populated. It had been the seat of a powerful and mighty empire with fell magics which long outlived its demise and were buried beneath the brackish strata of curses and gravesoil in its repose. Larissa sat upon her throne of skulls, fuming quietly to herself as to the impractical discomfort (and most importantly lack of insulation) of having a furniture made from the bony refuse of murdered foes. It was her father's stupid chair anyway and somewhere behind her a spike or brow ridge poked uncomfortably. The ghost kneeling before her took the moment of introspection as approval to speak and continued the report of his delegation.

"Laaaady Larisssssa, Quuuuueeeen. The Tomb Kings stir beneath their ancient seals, the Cold Wights whisper that their time has come, and the meaaat. Our meat is dying. Their hot blood freezes before we may drain it, the screams choke upon air too cold for mortal lungs to draw. Sssssssoon now the meat will die and no more can come for our hidden ways and passages are frozen shut. We cannot raid for the lands nearest us are already dead."

Thaisaidain - Tomb City, Ancient Horrors, Cursed Magic, (population 500,000 Undead/assorted spirits, 50,000 mortals: Condition Dying)

Ascalon - Aesculus

He sighed as he prised the last crystal from the owl's eyes. Thus was the last of the Sky Father's works, undone. Aesculus remembered being an infant in a cradle of fire and adamantine wire, reaching for the clockwork owl's glowing eyes as it gently cooed and clacked as it told him of the wider world beyond. It had told him of everything and anything his childish mind could have wished, its omnipotent vision breaching through the vast distances of the world without ever truly having to leave the room itself and a part of him wept that it had come to this. He knew it was already dead, or rather never really alive to begin with, and the mechanisms already destroyed irrevocably by the cold and its quintessence drained in that last spasm of his Father's death, but with his chisel and hammer he prised out its eyes and behind those empty sockets he saw only emptiness and loss.

Aesculus rolled the gems in his hand and laid them gently atop his worktable beside the logistics and status reports from his lieutenants. All was well in Ascalon, though given the strain of refugees he'd brought with him with time even his fabled storehouses would run dry. More were coming and already there were voices in the city begging him to turn them away. Realistically he could double or even triple the city's population and still feed them all for centuries and in the back of his mind he began to calculate how many centuries he'd gain if he began putting them on starvation rations immediately. He reached for a blank sheet of vellum to take write on and dislodged a misplaced note. Something about rats behaving unusually in the waste reclamation pits. Less aggressive, and even stranger still fewer of them sighted overall.

Ascalon as discovered a +2 Gem of Scrying! It came from a magical owl's head, but it was dead anyway so no loss. :shrug:
Ascalon - Mighty Redoubt, Mountain Forge, Vast Stores (population 2,000,000 mortals and increasing)


Wallastra - Wallastra, Vox Populi

"Hail Wallastra, Vox Populi, Lord of our City, Guardian of our People, grant us your aid in this our struggle and hold us in safety in the life beyond."

The Mayor pressed both hands against his ash-marked forehead as he knelt in supplication before the altar, his eyes closed as he continued his prayer.

"Lord, the city's walls remain broken as we are unable to create an effective form of mortar which can withstand the ice and cold. We have been able to concentrate the majority of our people in the city's inner districts, which once comprised the keep of the castle in ages past, and organize patrols to both search for easily moved supplies and for incursions by raiders. The aqueducts are no longer functional, but we have succeeded in stripping several of the water wheels as you ordered."

"We have had no successes in searching for the culprits who attacked the city's Library, and as it is not within the area of our control cannot determine what was taken or lost if anything. Give us your guidance, oh Lord. For the hope of the people, we who honor the sacrifice of the Sunbird salute you."

Wallastra - Ruined City, Recovering Populace, Strong of Faith (population 500,000 mortals)

Batjullik - Vendruck the Underlord

Today in Batjullik begins as any other. Arthak stands quite some distance away (having determined the maximum firing range of your defenses overnight) and bellows his challenge,

"VENDRUCK, HALF-SIZE, HALF-GOD, ALL COWARD. WHO HIDES IN HIS HOLE AND PISSES HIMSELF, WATERING HIS STUMPY TINY FEET. COWER TODAY VENDRUCK? WEEP TODAY VENDRUCK? YOU'LL NOT FACE ME IN BATTLE, NOT WHILE I HAVE MORE OF YOUR CHILDREN TO KILL AND FOR YOU TO HIDE BEHIND EH?"

He laughs, the Barbarian God of Battle, and motions for his soldiers to drag forward the latest round of prisoners taken in the last battle. Hundreds of dwarves, beaten, stripped, and shivering in the cold as they glumly plod forward to meet their grisly fate.

"I LIKE THE YOUNG ONES BEST VENDRUCK, NOT AS CHEWY AS THE BIGGER ONES AND THEY SCREAM SO GOOD! DO YOU THINK THESE ONES WILL BEG FOR MERCY, WEEP FOR MOTHER, OR CRY FOR YOU?"

The Men sharpen their spits and stoke the cooking fires, and behind Arthak the lesser Gods enslaved by him begin lining up to take their share and behind them the disheveled but massive body of troops moves to do the same. His priests begin the prayer to sanctify the flames wrought by Arthak's might, to give fire and strength to the army for the day of battle ahead.

Batjullik - Dwarven Stronghold, Bleak City, Besieged (population 1,500,000 mortals)

Hell - Malador the Prosecutor

"Nolo Contendre, Prosecutor. I feel that the principle of Nolo Contendre stands and that it is our right, no, I daresay our duty to claim those lost souls and in the absence of proper judgment house them until an adequate system of judgment may be found."

Across the grand table several of the other Princes nodded, twitched or otherwise gave their signs of agreement and assent, Pride, Lust, and Envy most vocal among them.

"I disagree."

Sloth's quiet voice cut across the room and he eyed the sprawling vista of Hell in the window before them, the damned and their jailers cavorting in a tapestry of horrors and delights of the flesh.

"It is not within the mandate of Hell to claim souls, ours is to merely imprison and punish those wretched creatures evil enough to deserve our keeping. A keeping I might add which is already seeing strain. The massive influx of accurately judged souls already has the domains of Wrath, Envy, and Lust strained in terms of accurate record keeping alone, not to mention gross imbalance developing between adequately empowered jailers and the unquiet dead."

He leaned against the table, reclining against one arm as he whispered to the Prince on his right.

"Pride, is it not true that your realm has begun to experience... difficulties related to the world above?"

Pride stood, grinning toothily at the others as he forced the window to shift orientation towards its dark and cold layer of Hell.

"By far, mine is the greatest and dangerous. You know what my ice imprisons. But the cold of Cocytus itself seems to have changed. The ice... it groans and I do not like the sound of it. It's perfectly within my capabilities of course, and I can do to manage it with half the resources in less the time it would take the fastest of you. But it never hurts to have a plan, and thus my plan hm, our plan,"

It inclined its head towards Gluttony.

"is the best path forward towards a more stable operation for all of Hell. More devils, more souls to winnow for talented individuals that we may create a new buttressing layer of bureaucracy and nobility. For the good of us all."

All eyes turned to the head of the table and Malador's dark throne.

"What say you, Prosecutor?"

Malador's Hell - Place of Imprisonment, Twisted Space, Black Gates (population 30,000,000 non corporeal souls)

Northern Wastes - Isath, Pillar of Flesh, The Crawling Sun

The Northern Wastes were becoming increasingly inhospitable, and those tiny pockets of warmth and life which Isath had slowly trundled towards to sustain itself had been snuffed out before it could reach them. It had already developed and discarded several forms of senses, the shifting winds and chaotic magnetosphere rendering most of them useless. The most effective sensory apparatus it had developed so far was a variation on its own innate ability to detect divinity and thought. The North was rapidly dwindling in both, but far to what it assumed was the South it sensed many such emanations. It pondered the risks and benefits, continue its current path and hope that the next pocket of warmth could be reached before it passed or begin the long journey South?

The winds shifted and it suddenly the tower panicked, temperatures were dropping sharply and dangerously and external structures developed to retain heat energy began to crackle and groan beneath the weight of sudden ice. A storm was coming!

Random encounter table says you're the first to meet the Ice!
ISATH encounters a wild ICESTORM!
Wild ICESTORM ATTACKS/DEFENDS WITH +6 Icestorm!
Your action?
Internal soul reservoir (500,000)


Deep Beneath - Piper, Father Of The Scurrying

Piper had taken his children with him deep beneath the ruins of the Dwarven city, dragging the frozen meat of its former inhabitants with them into the welcoming (and less cold) dark. There in the dark spas still buoyed by the hot breath of subterranean gasses, the Scurrying had found a safe haven in the space in between. Well, once the survivors had managed to learn the scent of those gasses which caused delirium and death or in the least listen for the telltale hiss of odorless gasses which caused the same as well. And learned to avoid the grotesque predators which frequented the Beneath that stirred and shifted upwards with each groaning of the Earth.

Worse things, greater things by far than Piper dwelt Deep Beneath and he worried for his children. Piper crouched at the edge of a deep precipice. Something here was wrong and his senses screamed for him to flee and flee fast but his children were above him and still unprepared for any long or fast journey. He strained his senses, plumbing the pit and his knowledge of the depths for any idea of what to come when the Deep Dweller flung itself from the void fangs and claws flashing. Silently it snarled and lunged for his neck!

Piper is being attacked by a Deep Dweller!
PIPER encounters a wild DEEP DWELLER!
Wild DEEP DWELLER ATTACKS/DEFENDS WITH +4 Feral Beast
Your action?
Scurrying, Instinctive Animals (population 200,000 mortals)


Weichtenstinkenden Durcheinander von einer Stadt - Warlord Bismark von Trippletrow, The Blight of Suffering, Savior of Pain, The Smugfather

Bismark reeled, the turmoil and suffering of his empire wracking his body and mind with the pains of his people multiplied a thousandfold. In the Central Plains a great wind was rising, and as it passed nothing but icy wastes and frozen corpses were left in its wake. The herdsmen were dying, freezing in their tents as their cattle froze standing upon the vast plain which bore no structures for shelter nor had easy kindling to hand.

From the mountains he could sense a deep feeling of loss and numbness around a core of hot anger and hope. Great storms had dislodged the snowcaps, avalanches burying entire communities of the mountain men but those who survived took stock and began their plans for recovery and prayed to their God.

All across his empire crops and animals were dying in the unseasonable cold, and the trepidation and horror of his subjects massed against him like a single enormous entity of fear and unease which threatened to dislodge him from his stately seat.

Weichtenstinkenden Empire
-Central Plains population 300,000 mortals Condition: Dying
-Cities population 700,000 mortals Food supply in danger
-Mountains population 100,000 mortals


Wandering in the Wild - "Vicissitude"

The old God motioned towards the fire, his face crinkling like a raisin in the sun as he smiled broadly.

"Hail Amaguq, Lone Hunter. Would you share my fire then, you who once stole the Sun? There is only the young one and I here and no more harm save what you bring."

Vicissitude's eyes darted around the small campsite, finding no signs of trickery or ambush. In the bright latticework of his mind the prayers and lamentations of those mortals clever (or foolish) enough to worship him flitted like bright flies against a darkened deep sky. He knew the Old One, a very old God indeed. But the other's name escaped him, something nagged at the corner of his thoughts...

The other God was a young woman, so young she barely deserved the name divinity.

Vicissitude, meet Parelle & ??? an old God of the Earth. Feel free to chat amongst yourselves.

Wandering in the Wild - Brother Yak

Brother Yak wandered the wild, lowing loudly in search of any of his friends (or enemies) and finding none. It was lonely and cold, and everywhere that he went he found only empty fields, empty houses, and empty flesh (mostly frozen, sometimes a little bit gnawed). He stamped his mighty foot, shaking loose the coating of frost from his shaggy thick hair and snorted. He'd thought he'd found a demon, or perhaps his old enemies the Wolf and the Tiger but instead all he'd found were their frozen corpses and the ruins of their lairs. His nose itched and he looked upwards at the skies, wondering what had become of Mother-to-all but unable to see the sky for the snow and clouds. What was a yak to do?

Northern Wastes - Brynjolf

Brynjolf shivered through his thick fur as he squatted over the cart full of White, counting the thick blocks full of icy malice one more time just for good measure. The rest of the Reykr were spread out through the ruins of the city, its population already too far gone either in their own addiction to the White or the malaise of ending their own lives otherwise to care. What was worth taking from the city anyway? Food? Slaves? Magical relics of dubious integrity and worth?

His teeth itched and he licked his lips unconsciously. That was the real problem here, he wasn't sure what exactly he'd need to take when they did head South. Well, beyond the White of course. He'd need to take that. All of the White that they could carry, even though he could make more. It wouldn't do to just leave it behind. But they did need to flee and soon, the Icestorms were increasing in frequency and strength and even given his abilities he didn't fancy his chances. Plus it only stood to reason if the Ice came from the North there must be somewhere in the South it'd reach last right? Or maybe never at all? He stared at the bricks of White, counting them again for good measure.

Food, slaves, magic gear. Pick one, pick two, or pick all three. Your call.
Reykr - Werewolf Gang (population 100,000 mortals)


Wandering in the Wild - Parelle - Goddess of Travel, Lady of the Hearth, Last of the Twelve

Parelle had wandered through the wastes, helping what people she could find until even her (mostly) divinely empowered feet were cold and sore. Where she had gone she had brought a small bit of her home and hearth with her, and she had gladly shared it with all the people she encountered until there was hardly anything left. Then the Old One had found her, or maybe she'd found him? He was very friendly, and had invited her to sit at his fire to warm her feet. They'd talked and chatted and finally sat quietly in the long night, staring at the flames until another God had appeared from the darkness.

"Hail Amaguq, Lone Hunter. Would you share my fire then, you who once stole the Sun? There is only the young one and I here and no more harm save what you bring."

The Old One motioned towards the fire and smiled, bright and friendly.

Parelle, meet Vicissitude & ??? an old God of the Earth. Feel free to chat amongst yourselves.

Puppies are dicks fucked around with this message at 21:09 on Nov 24, 2014

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Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011

WHY YOU GOTTA BREAK A BROS HEART
1) Travel is difficult or dangerous - Navigation is difficult. The planet's magnetic poles have shifted wildly and dramatically and more often than not whiteouts blind the sea and sky. Walk, run, fly, teleport however it goes you're crossing the cold and risking freezing bits off when you cover long distances or maybe even poke your head outside your respective bunkers. This leads us into the first and most persistent environmental threat:

-Ice Storms wrack the planet - The Ice advances and will have its own traits in situations where you act in opposition to it (i.e. not freezing to death or pushing back local winter) For the purposes of travel Ice Storms if encountered will deal ranks of (temporary) cold damage if unsuccessfully resisted. Travel across areas already claimed by the Ice will have the same effect if not properly prepared against/resisted with adequate traits. :siren: Ice Storms/Glaciers may vary in intensity and lethality depending on local circumstances. (probably don't want to walk deeper into a storm or farther onto a glacier if possible) Instantaneous communication, telepathy, magical messaging, etc. is also subject to the same.

2) You are aware of the other Gods - With the exception of deities created after the Ice, you're all at least passingly familiar with one another from previous Convocations of the Gods. Names, domains, past history is your business to figure out. You're aware of the presence of other Gods in your area and beyond that without some form of scrying/spying action only dimly perceive that what used to be many are now a scattered few. Stealth actions to avoid detection are also acceptable. You are also similarly aware of the actions of other Gods, and Global Actions in bold are perceived by all capable parties.

3) Your power is your life - AP! It's godpower mainlined straight from the hearts and minds of the souls under your watch straight into your hot, steamy divine core. AP tells me how badly you want something, and is subject to the following:

- Can be used at a rate of 1 AP per rank to heal (temporary) cold damage. Burn your quintessence to stave off frostbite!

- Increase the chance of success/scale of effect for a given roll. Combat, spells, item creation, etc. AP is a hedge against complete failure. The more you spend the greater the odds of success. AP-use rolls will always have some sort of effect, beneficial or otherwise

- Starting AP pool is Traits x2
- AP can be refreshed by:
- Persistent belief/worship of mortal souls 100,000 per AP (AP pool may be drained due to disbelief/loss of worshipers) Non-corporeal souls hold 1/4 standard value.
- Deliberate Murder/Sacrifice/Consumption of mortal souls 100,000 per AP. Non-corporeal souls hold 1/4 standard value.
- Direct trade or theft by/from other Gods or AP-holding bodies
- Deliberate Murder/Consumption of another God, 1 AP per rank of God
- Deliberate Sacrifice of Traits, 2 AP per rank lost
- (possibly) the end of an Age/year/game round yet to be determined

Keep in mind that loss of AP is not de facto death or ability to act As a God you're always able to attempt divine actions all the way up to big ticket miracles. AP just gives you the extra edge and most importantly can be used to keep warm. You do however only get One Action Per Customer, Per Turn (turns as defined by spaces between my updates)

4) Power must be Taken or Made Traits, they're hot and everybody wants more of them. They can be burned for AP to keep yourself warm. Changing a Trait is a pretty straightforward affair, just go ahead and come up with an in-game reason to do so and swap it out rank for rank. Taking Traits involves a +2 rank per +8 ranks of the God you're murdering/stripping of traits.

-Gaining a Trait requires the creation of a significantly powerful magical artifact, sacred space, or lesser deity to sockpuppet. Traits can also be increased or gained by forming into collaborative agreements with other deities, commonly known as a Pantheon.
- For every 3 Gods in a Pantheon, all members may increase their total traits by a single rank, +2
- Pantheon members collectively pool worshipers for purposes of AP refresh calculation (Pantheons can in theory draw more power but are subject to increased risks of AP drain from massive-scale die offs)
- Terms and conditions may apply (your business to work out in advance)
- All gains or losses are immediate upon consummation of Pantheon agreement

Here is an example using Skoll, Lord of the Black Winter, Sorcerer of the Ice +8/-4

quote:

SKOLL: total Traits x2 = (16/16 AP!)

SKOLL encounters a wild ICESTORM!

Wild ICESTORM attacks/defends with +4 Icestorm!

!r 2d6+4 = 4,4 + 4 = 12!

SKOLL attacks/defends with +6 Black Wind Caller, +2 Ghost-faced Revenant!

!r 2d6+8 = 1,2 + 8 = 11!

SKOLL takes 1 rank damage from ICESTORM! (temporary) Cold damage 1 rank!

SKOLL uses 1 AP to avoid damage, he's still good to fight!
SKOLL (15/16 AP!)

Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011

WHY YOU GOTTA BREAK A BROS HEART
Also placeholder.

Places of Interest:

Thaisaidain - Tomb City, Ancient Horrors, Cursed Magic, Trickster's Warning*, Undead Averse

Valley of the Sun - Summer's last redoubt, Fertility Blessing, Favoured by the Sun (population 800,000)
+4 Grove of Summer Power
+8 Table of Sacrifice

Wallastra - Great City, Strong of Faith, Necropolis, Bottomless Sinkhole, Black Storms (population 1,000,000)

Hell(Thawzone) - Living Gate of Light, Trickster's Ward, Eternal Flame (freezing) (dead at his own hand), Hellwarden Eye, Tests for the Wicked (altered for the wicked by Trickster) (made easier by Parelle)
(Home) - Reinforced Walls, Reinforced Walls, Splendid Mortal Habitation, Temples & Shrines, Temple to the Undying Flame (destroyed by Chaos-eyed Wildings) (population 300,000 mortals)
+4 Underground Dome of Life
(Impure Swamp) population 100,000 mortals (worship Isath) - 50,000 (killed by Fomorians) - 25,000 (killed by Fomorians in suicidal attack)! 200,000 Fomorians (Fomorian Queens worship Parelle) - 60,000 (killed in civil war). (100,000 Fomorians worship Parelle) -40,000 (killed in suicidal attack against Isath's spawn!)
-Isath, Pillar of Flesh, The Crawling Sun - Internal soul reservoir 700,000
(Graveyard of Gods) population 400,000 non corporeal souls + 250,000 non corporeal souls -100,000 non corporeal souls (recycled into living Domovoi)
(Isath's Workshop) - +6 Place of Mechanical Punishment
(Hell's Throne)
+4 Throne of Hell (power has been drained by Parelle)

The Risen Empire
-Plains Cities (population 300,000 mortals) Undead Workteams
Imperial Capital - Bone Wall, Undead Workteams, Protected City, Fortified Palace, Imperial Graveyards (population 700,000 mortals)
+4 Seat of Power
-The Box (population 100 mortals) - Austere living conditions, Locked from without, Heavily guarded

Station Alpha-2 - Provisioned for many, Deep Bunkers, Quiescent Mother Forge (population 100,000 mortals)

Moon - Celestial Orb, Subconsciously driven, Lifeless

Puppies are dicks fucked around with this message at 03:18 on May 12, 2016

TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011

TychoBrahesNose posted:

"Vicissitude"

When the First Words were uttered out of the primeval Chaos, even then the First Lie lay hidden within.



Trickster Spirit (+4):
I am Anansi. I am Hanuman. I am Elegua and his shadow Eshu. I am Bamapana and Bluetongue Lizard and Crow. I am Iktomi and Nanabozho and Kokopelli, Coyote and Raven. I am Hermes and Mercury and Prometheus, Dionysus and Pan, Hippomenes and Orpheus and Teiresias. I am Kitsune and Kappa and Tanuki and Susano-o. I am Set. I am Loki. I am The Mirror held before the faces of Men and Gods to humble them and show them their folly.

By word or action, the Trickster can cause both men and gods to believe the lies within their own hearts and minds. He (she?) can make things to appear as they are not, and he himself can appear in any form he desires. Some question whether the Trickster has any true form at all.

Some things he can do:
He can create illusions. He can shapeshift. He can talk anyone into believing anything, especially when they want it -- and sometimes, even when they don't. He can convince a freezing man to give up his cloak, and leave him smiling while he does it.

Inbetween All Realms (+2):
I stand where all paths are joined: between here and there, between the past and the future, between the living and the dead. In the space between heartbeats, I can simply be where the point of my enemy's spear is not -- or I can be on the far side of the world. I know the tongues of all men, for I hear all of their prayers, though in the past few would bestir themselves to pray to me directly. I am the Door through which all souls pass from eternity and to eternity.

He is the God of the Crossroads, able to walk any path to any destination he desires. As the gatekeeper and the conduit between the many pantheons of deities and their followers among the mortals, he normally has few devotees himself. Nevertheless, he receives the pleas and prayers of all, carrying the gods' replies (few and far between though they may be) to their followers in turn. He is also responsible for delivering the souls of the newly formed into their mortal bodies, and he is likewise responsible for delivering the souls of the newly dead to the Underworld.

Some things he can do:
He can avoid physical harm, and slip out of any sticky situation (most likely this also falls under the penumbra of his Trickster Spirit Quality). He can move at the Speed of Plot by some unspecified divine means. He can understand and communicate with any and every being that has a language, no matter how primitive. He can hear (though generally he does not respond to) the prayers offered to any and all deities. He has dominion over souls passing from one stage of existence to the next. He brings fecundity to existing life (but he does not create new life), and he shepherds the souls of the dead to their appointed afterlife (Is that Judgement? Heaven? Hell? I suppose that depends on which Gods remain!). He does not oversee the judging, rewards, or punishment of the afterlife himself -- however, if he were so inclined, he would not be above tricking the more arrogant among the gods out of their "deserved" prize of some soul or other…

Everything New Under the Sun (+2):
I am the God of the Past Becoming the Future. I am the Web spun over the world -- whether men call it Dreaming, or Medicine, or Magic, or Technology, I am the Source from which men drink when they desire new experiences, new wisdom, or clever solutions to their dilemmas. Sometimes, however, when a man does not have eyes to see, the knowledge he gains does not benefit him as he might imagine.

He is the indifferent arbiter of blind chance that underlies many changes; but even moreso, he is the god of Progress. Responsible for the intellectual as well as the physical fecundity of mortals, he is the unseen (and often unacknowledged) patron of those undertaking novel pursuits, especially of the artistic or scientific sort. He is the one who, unasked, brought Fire to men, and first taught them the arts of sorcery and healing -- much to the consternation of many of the other gods, who (as a rule) selfishly wanted to keep such gifts for themselves, and wanted men dependent on the divine instead of their own abilities. After all, men who die (or are afraid to die) belong to the gods, but for as long as they are in the mortal realm (and believe they will stay there), they are their own creatures.

Some things he can do:
This Quality is more of a situational wildcard than a specific capability. He is never at a loss in any new situation. He can roll with the punches. If anyone can figure out a way for the men and their gods to survive and thrive in the wake of the Fimbulwinter, it is him.

Spirit of Chaos (-2):
I am the pangs of fate. I am the roll of the dice, the one who brings fortune and ruin. I turn darkness into light, and I turn light into darkness. By me men see the path ahead, but when they grow haughty, I cause them to stumble. Whether life or death or the moments that occur between, all is nought but a fleeting story, far too insignificant a detail to be taken seriously.

In keeping with his Trickster nature, he is a force for Chaos, unpredictable and irresponsible. He takes little seriously, and he is not commonly trusted, especially by those who have fallen victim to his schemes previously. If he is emotionally constrained or physically restricted in his freedom of movement, he will rebel and seek to change his circumstances at the first opportunity. To the extent that he thinks of others, he expects them to have the same viewpoint.

Some thing he cannot do:
He cannot easily be trusted; if some being is foolish enough to try, he will soon disabuse that one that he is worthy of such trust. He cannot be made to see the gravity of most situations -- though if anything in his long existence might merit his sober reflection, it would be the cataclysm of Fimbulwinter. He cannot connect too deeply with any individual, nor can he stay in one place for too long.

Without Light, There Are No Shadows (-2):
Where there is no truth, lies lose their power. Where there are no men, there are no prayers or sacrifices to carry to the gods, and no souls to bring to birth or to final judgement. Where there are no Gatherings of Men, there can be no Outcasts. Where there is no change, only undifferentiated sameness, there I am not.

As the Space Between All Beings, where there are no relationships, there he cannot exist. He is outside of all societies, but ironically reliant on them for his existence. Though he cannot settle down, he likewise cannot be separate from all others for too long, or his strength begins to wane.

Some things he cannot do:
Most of his divine attributes require another sentient being to interact with. If men or gods die out completely, there will be no need for one possessed of his divine powers and responsibilities, and he would be bereft of purpose -- if not existence. Likely such limitations will begin to affect him even before such an extreme circumstance comes to pass. Furthermore, though he can (and does, when it proves necessary) shapeshift into a creature that can withstand cold to some extent, he cannot beguile a glacier into retreating, nor badger the wind into abating. Ravenous, scurrying rat gods and enormous phallic towers of all-consuming flesh may be above (or beneath) his reach, but he has not (yet) had occasion to find out.

----



I possess no land to watch over, and I have no people who call me their own. I stand alone alongside all the other children of the Creator. Yet when Fimbulwinter came and some even among the immortal gods ceased to be, I began to receive supplications from those who desired change in their world. First the men of the North, who sailed upon their Dragons. And then the Skraelings of the Wooded Lands. But then, like a raging inferno of newly-discovered piety, men from every corner of the Earth began to lift their hands to me -- whether they knew a name for me or not. From the trackless wilderness to the rude hovel to the grandiose palace, whether he was crusted in filth or bedecked in jewels, he sought the face that had been hidden from him since before eternity began, in order to regain even some small measure of control over the course of Change. With certainty, there was change aplenty and upheaval everywhere as societies collapsed and cities were reduced to lifeless rubble beneath the advancing glaciers. But those who for the first time sought me out directly wanted a different sort of change, one that would not lead to their imminent demise. Slowly, slowly I began to listen to the prayers that were uttered, and through the strength of such devotion -- opportunistic and desperate as it was -- my will was fortified against the cold, and I was roused to action.
But still, men (and even hardier things) are dying like flies as the hoarfrost settles over more and more of the world. And so, although it might offer temporary respite, I will not sit by the Hearth as it grows cold and lifeless. I will not drink and make merry in golden towers as the Ice bears down upon me to grind my bones to powder. I will not flee to the dark places and cower among the sightless and the hopeless. I will tread upon the earth, and under the earth, and even through the gates of Hell itself if need be. From beyond the north to the farthest reaches of the south I shall wander, striding through the last of the great Fortresses of men and riding across the frigid plains with the nomads of the Empire. And when the sun rises over the cold and desolate lands, I shall chase it from the east until it wearies of its race in the west. And I will come to know that which neither man nor god has perceived before:
why?

--------

Amaguq, the Lone Hunter


Amaguq pads silently into the circle of shifting light, sniffing the air for the scent of predator or prey, or for the stinging cold that portends the arrival of the Ice. Sensing none, he circles closer, finally resting on his haunches facing the other two gods. He opens his muzzle to speak to, first to the Old One, as is fitting for a guest accepting the hospitality of his host.

"The harsh lands make the spirits of men and gods harsh. The Ice makes the spirits men and Gods cold, forgetful of that which binds us. Qualiertetang is grown fierce, and Anguta devours many, but there is still welcome by your fire. You are not cold; you do not forget. There is gratitude from Amaguq for the sharing of your fire, your life." He raises his snout to sniff again, before addressing the other deity.

"And greetings to you, young one. The Old One has named me Amaguq, He-Who-Brought-the-Sun-to-Earth, and he speaks the truth that he knows." Indicating her feet, he continues, "I see that you have been going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down upon it. And now, the breath of men breathe many new prayers to The-Lady-In-The-Wind, who offers warmth and peace wherever the wind brings cold and fear."

He falls silent for a time, lost in thought and staring at the embers deep within the fire. But then he speaks again, even as he continues staring into the dancing flames. "Over endless time, Akka, Mother-Beneath-Our-Feet, has witnessed forest turn to desert and desert turn to sea, and sea turn to fertile plain in its turn. In your wisdom, Old One, do you perceive what the Coming of the Ice portends? How has it come? When will it go?"

I figure a god who has seen things over the countless eons of the past might have insight into our current predicament, and thoughts on a way out of it, even if he is too old to accomplish the necessary feats himself. I'm mostly looking for useful knowledge at this point -- is there any kind of roll that needs to be made? If he's reluctant, I suppose some sort of social conflict is in the offing, but he's given no indication that he's particularly tight-lipped yet…

TychoBrahesNose fucked around with this message at 02:50 on Nov 25, 2014

OscarDiggs
Jun 1, 2011

Those sure are words on pages which are given in a sequential order!
Deep Beneath - Piper, Father Of The Scurrying

A horrible, eating, bitey thing was attacking him! “CAT!” was Pipers instinctive cry, his mighty jaw twisting and turning to make the unnatural shout of warning. His mind was blank as the unholy terror of his and his billions of siblings went to finally rend life from his form. Then he realised, “Not Cat? Yes, too small for Cat. Wha-” he was cut off as the thing struck his exposed flank and throat. Now his curiosity was gone, replaced by the anger and rage his kind had felt since the first predator had killed the first rodent; this day there would be vengeance, the first blow his kind had ever struck in true defiance. “Not Cat now. Now. YOU. EATING!” he wrenched out. As battle truly began a voice in the back of Pipers mind told him 'The throat. Go for the throat!. Not having any idea what a throat was or how it would even apply to the beast in front of him, Piper resolved to strike at the fleshiest, juiciest and tastiest bit possible.

[i]Draw into battle with the DEEP DWELLER.
Attack and defend with:+2 Survival By Any Means (because survival implies not getting killed and eaten by this thing.)
+2 Scavengers Cunning (since cunning is important in a fight. Just ask Dragon Age)
+2 King Of The Survivors (not only because I'm trying to defend my subjects, but this thing has gotta be partly a scavenger to survive down here. It's got to learn to respect the king!)
+2 Deep Pits And Dark Tunnels (because these tunnels are mine and my children's now and this thing was stupid enough to attack me on home turf. Being slightly smarter, Piper will probably be better at using the terrain tactically)

You're example has gotten me a bit paranoid Puppies so I will spend 1 AP to help secure victory in the first combat of the game (that isn't against a giant snow drift). Is it possible to have the combat roll count for another action because I was thinking of trying to beat the dweller into submission. If I can't it would still mark the beginnings of a fine food stockpile but if I can make it submit, an extra body in the Scuryying is theoretically a good thing.

Piper (Ap 15/16).[i]

OscarDiggs posted:

I hope you don't mind me borrowing a few of your things HiKaizer.

Piper, Father Of The Scurrying

There are those who will hold their heads high, brave this great catastrophe and carry on with dignity and grace in the face of this great hardship. They will provide charity for the poor and alms to the weak. Their hearts will be lightened by their good works and the blessings of the saved with wash over them. And then there will be those who survive.

For every kindly priest bringing their people through great hardship, their will be a bandit praying upon the weak and displaced. For every noble merchant giving of themselves to others in need, their will be one who exploits and demeans. For every brave soul who will stand their ground for the sake of decency and sanity, there is one who will fall into the depths of madness and fear. For every man who wants to live, their is a rat who wants to survive.

Once a mere rat, Piper scurried from the light places to the dark, surviving on crumb and corpse. Although born in one of the great cities Piper would have no place there, along with his millions of brothers and sisters soon to be displaced by millions more. But Piper was just a rat, so no one really cared. Desperate in his search for food Piper scurried; there is no sense of time and place for rat, only moving and going and starving and feasting. Perhaps he would have died a mere rat, killed in any number of ways that a rat would deserve, but like most creatures of his ilk, his destiny was not his own. It was tied with Vendruck and the Dwarves.

Of course Piper had no concept of this; he was but a mere rat. But he was qucikly swept up in the manifest destiny of those who lived in the earth itself, too busy carving out their homes and halls to take notice of a mere rat. Piper walked in his and the Dwarves shared home for many a year, feasting sand starving and days and weeks turned; surviving as he has long since learnt. But where there are cities, there are rats and where there are rats, there will soon be a thousand more. Old and weak after many years, Piper could not compete with the new born generations that swarmed Vendruck's halls and so he was displaced again. If he had returned to the surface he would have likely died, along with most of his race. But Piper did not go up, we went further down.

In the vile darkness, he survived. Alongside monster and beast, the likes of which a rat could never describe, he starved and feasted as he had done all his life. Up the tunnels and down the stairways that Dwarves and other, darker things had made, he survived as he always had. Perhaps if he had not been a rat, he would have wondered about the dark things he scurried with, he would have pondered at the strangeness of the meat and what it had done to hiss body, and perhaps he would have marveled at his lifespan and the decades slept away, but he did not because he was a rat, but not for much longer.

Piper was scurrying when the ice came. He had had no forewarning like the sentient species above him, but he still survived better then they ever did. But in the foul darkness of a broken Dwarven hold, he would stop merely surviving and start LIVING.

Months into the great freeze, Piper climbed up the tunnels, into a ruin of ice and Dwarf corpses. He did not feel sorrow for the death or anger at the unfairness of it all, he simply feasted. But in a nearby hovel, there were those who were not feasting. Some Dwarven children, along with their caretaker, had impossibly survived the last few months. It was only through the kindness and self-sacrifice of that kind soul that the group had survived so long, but her spirit no longer dwelt in the corpse she had left behind.

The eldest and bravest awoke from his starvation induced haze to the sound of chewing and tearing. Crawling from his hole in the ground, his eyes fell upon the devastation of his home for the first time since the cold had claimed it.



A terrifying sight stood before him, slowly eating away at the crotchety blacksmith that had lived next door. He was going to die, along with his friends and neighbours. They had sat here, huddled and starving in the dark for months waiting for rescue, and now they were going to be killed by this monster. But these thoughts soon left the weary young boy because he was just. SO. HUNGRY.

Piper was magnanimous with the young Dwarf and it's cohorts. The meat of the dead, while cold and brittle, had been preserved by the great freeze. A meal not infested by the rot or maggots was a feast indeed and there was plenty to share with the little ones that crawled out of their hole. Of course, he took that same hole for himself as payment for this kindness, but they didn't seem to care that much. Those next few weeks were warm and good; he hadn't slept so close to other living things since he had retreated into the dark many years ago and the living blanket that covered him was a fine luxury on top of the masses of meatthat was now available to him.

While he had ignored the changes made to himself over the years, he took notice the changes his young wards were going through. Now even shorter and stockier then regular Dwarves, their light skin had faded into a pale grey. Teeth had been sharpened and wits had been dulled. The will to survive was strong in his adopted children and Piper could not be happier.



Life was good in the ruined hold, but good things can not last in this world of cold. Soon the plentiful meat ran out and his family again began to starve. Piper could not allow this; he no longer wanted to just survive, he wanted to live and he wanted his family to live as well. He wanted them to feast and breed and grow and everything else that truly living meant. He was older, fatter and more tired then a rat had any right to be. He should have left the earth long ago but now he had a reason; the ultimate survivor chose to sacrifice himself so that others might live. He died to the sounds of sobbing and chewing, his children beyond thankful for his great sacrifice. He died so that they might live, giving of himself without want or desire, but in that sacrifice Piper became more then a mere rat, more then a monster and more then an adoptive father.

As he had been forced to move long ago, so to were his children forced to flee their home. Desperate for food and warmth, they were not guided by the fickle mind of a starving rat; they were now guided by a God!

-----------

+2 Survival By Any Means: Piper is a survivor; he has travelled through city and plain, forest and hall. He has walked with humans, dwarves and things that have never met the sunlight. Sometimes he flourished and sometimes he shrivelled, suffering through conditions that make the Fimbulwinter seem like a cool ocean breeze. He has always survived and a little cold won't stop him now.

+2 Scavengers Cunning: A rat could never beat a human in a match of wits, but a cunning rat will survive where even the smartest of humans will fall. As decades turned into centuries, Pipers cunning has only grown and he has even earned a bit of wit himself. What human could hope to compete with him now.

+4 (was +2) King Of The Survivors: Perhaps it was laziness that inspired his decision, or perhaps it was true kindness and mercy. Either way the Scurrying are now born into the world, consummate scavengers and survivors shaped and changed by Piper's will. He is their father, their king and their God. But they are not the only ones over which he holds dominion. Those that have been on the knife edge between life and death, those that have lost everything and still try to carry on and those who would take any chance for survival know Piper as their king; the rats and roaches that crawl on the earth, the bandits and scum who will sink to any depths and even the normal folks desperate to make a place for themselves and their children. Piper is the good Shepard leading them away from death, and they will survive.

+2 Deep Pits And Dark Tunnels: Piper walked side by side with the vile things of the deep. As decades became centuries, he was transformed from a mere rat into a monster. Though he would later become a god, his instinctual appeal for the dark places and those that reside within them is as strong as ever. Only Vendruck could claim more knowledge of the depths, but he has never tread where Piper has, broken bread with what Piper has, or consumed what Piper has consumed. Part of Piper will always belong to the deepest pits and darkest tunnels and it's denizens will always know their brother.

FOOD! -2: Food is beyond importance to Piper and his Children. With no farms to work and no grounds to hunt, the search for succor will be a hard one.

A Butchered Race -2: Piper's children were once dwarves, but the desperate call of survival has warped them beyond measure. Though they have gained many physical advantages from this vile change, they have also lost much in the way of knowledge and artifice. This is compacted by the fact that Pipers first brood were mere children when they underwent the change; there is no great history of the Scurrying, no grand cities to call their own, no songs or stories to tell around the firelight. For now, there is only survival.

Additional Bonuses

Deep Dweller Blessing
The Scurrying are now more resistant to existential threats, like disease or starvation, thanks to feasting upon the flesh of a Deep Dweller.

Scurrying Chambers
A series of tunnels and living quarters built part way into the recycling system of Ascalon (with permission from Aesculus). Apart form this, there is nothing special about the chambers.

+2 Pipers Range: Piper has explored the undisturbed places where none have tread for many centuries. Many treasures were lost and found and lost again by Piper's uncomprehending eyes, but they are there still, ready for the day Piper need lay claim to them.[/b]

+2 Totem of the Swarm: Magical artifact giving Piper greater control over swarms and swarming creatures.

OscarDiggs fucked around with this message at 19:02 on Feb 8, 2015

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

"Today I will cause problems on purpose"
Wallastra

The city weeps. I can feel it in my bones, it survives yet it struggles to do so. Today, more issues are brought to for me, and tomorrow will be no different. In any case we shall proceed accordingly, it is time to do the holy work.

We will start with something simple first, what was taken from the library if anything at all? What is the condition of the remaining books.

I will use [+4] - The Grand Design, I will reach through the mortar of the library, through it's ancient dusty confines. I have checked this library daily for hundreds of years I have catalogued every book and every tome that has been added and taken from this library, I will know when something is amiss. What have these soon to be criminals taken from the great library? And I swear to myself if they have damaged or stolen anything irreplaceable...

I don't think I will need to burn AP this time around

TheNabster fucked around with this message at 23:43 on Nov 25, 2014

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

Swimming upstream
into the sunset



Parelle



Parelle - Goddess of Travel, Lady of the Hearth, Last of the Twelve

+2 Travel - Probably the only people who have ever fervently prayed to Parelle are people who are hopelessly lost or are on a dangerous stretch of road. If you're trying to get from point A to point B then Parelle is your go to deity.

+2 Warmth - Sadly she didn't inherit her brother Lugh's powers over fire, but she can (mostly) keep you from freezing to death. That's something, right?

+2 Hope - Someone to believe in you when you don't, spurning you to act when you have nothing left. It's a sweet lie, but it's the sort that gets you out of bed when you rationally have a finite number of tomorrows to look forward to.

+2 Food and Drink - From fine food near a warm fire to a few rat gnawed frozen crusts, the fact that someone may find food or spirits when they reasonably could not be expected to could very well be attributed to Parelle stuffing your packs and larders.

-2 Nonviolent - Parelle's siblings were the ones that did the fighting, though often it was among themselves. As the youngest and the least of the children she always made appeals to her older brothers and sisters when she needed defending. Now that they are all dead she is quickly growing to realize that while she has no problem with violence, she has absolutely no idea how to inflict it on others.

-2 Not Taken Seriously - Parelle has this problem with being all carrot and no stick. She was the sort of goddess that people would make offerings to at roadside inns and and few places else. She wasn't fertile like her sister Ophelia, she wasn't a hunter like brother Randal, she didn't make things like brother Lugh, save for maybe pudding. If someone offered a prayer to her the best one could expect was a pleasant smile and a vacant stare. If you had to rely on Parelle for anything save for getting your food cooked or getting from point A to point B, you are probably in a bad way.

--

Once upon a time there were twelve brothers and sisters. They lived in a house and got along well enough, though Lugh was a recluse, Ophelia had too many children and they left their toes out for Parelle to clean up, and Robert would come back from soldiering, get drunk and beat her (though he would always apologize later), for the most part it was a good life. She knew that they were all special and even she had her own minor talents. No one would die and they all lived at home while Parelle would make sure everything was kept tidy and in fact when she realized that it was normal for people to die, it was quite a shock. She cried for a whole day and a night after Robert told her.

Then one day when she was making sure that a particular mortal family made it home safely, she gathered her firewood for the way back, picked up a particularly fine vintage of mead to sip on the way home and found her house ransacked, its windows smashed, its larders raided, and frost covered the inside just like the out. Scared, but not terrified, she eventually mustered her will to go in and look for her family. She found them under the frost both inside of the house and later, outside under hard packed snow. All of them were dead, strongest to weakest, youngest to oldest, save her, the least of her family.

Perhaps if this were some campfire tale she would have picked up her brother's sword and found her family's killers. She would go on a quest of bloody revenge and claim the lives of her attackers in a righteous fury, but this is no campfire story. Instead, she buried them, wept and moved into an increasingly cold world. Perhaps someone might need her there. Please let someone need her.

Premise: Parelle is what one would call a minor deity if they were being generous. Besides travel, all of her powers are minor ones. She doesn't have control over fire, just warmth. She can't empower people to great heights, she can merely give them hope. She can't make the harvest yield a second crop, she can only stretch what food that you have, or maybe you might find a loaf of bread and bottle of beer that you "missed" on the third or fourth pass through a cupboard.


---


Parelle's feet hurt. Her feet had hurt before, but she had never encountered this level of cold, this level of discomfort. In some strange way she seemed meant for harsher climes, though she preferred the sanctity of...No. No thoughts of that now.

Parelle wears a moose skin coat trimmed with rabbit fur, sturdy looking boots and an enormous looking pack that do well not only to hide her figure, but make her appear bigger than she is to less savvy predators. All one can see that is not covered by her clothing is her plump, brown face and the fringes of black hair.

So it was with some trepidation that she came to the old god at the fire, hesitated and then remembered that she had socks to dry out, meat to cook and toes to get toasty. So she sat, she chatted, though mostly she talked about what she had seen and if asked, in only the vaguest of generalities about herself. At first the fire didn't grow any warmer at first, but she added the choicest bits of wood, sweet smelling and clean burning. Within a few minutes she broke down her gear and had a stew going of whale meat, wild vegetables and pepper that to a trader she met was once worth his entire house, given for a minor blessing, for that was all that she could give him really.

Her feet still hurt, now more so as more feeling returned to her extremities, but these ritual domestic tasks gave her a sense of calm and helped push those feelings to the back of her mind. Her eyes widened as the wolf padded towards the fire and again as it spoke, but if it wanted to attack her it wouldn't have revealed itself. Still, proprieties should be observed. A potentially hungry wolf is a scary wolf and the food was almost done. Perhaps the stew was what brought it? With a final flourish she splashed in a bit of the clotted mare's milk she had been saving for just such an occasion.

She listens to the Amaguq and her worries begin to disappear as he speaks. said Parelle, "Greetings Amaguq and be welcome by our fire. I have been traveling far and wide, here and there. Some places are bad, others worse, but some places are still livable. Would you like something to eat? It's nothing special but it should help with the cold. Do you have any news?"

I'm making a meal for everyone here with +2 hope, +2 food and drink, +2 warmth. It's a minor blessing for defense against being attacked by the cold for however long the duration would last. I'm also making extra in case anyone else shows up, or I can just have leftovers for later.

15/16 AP, one spent on this action

Edit: Put the character sheet in on the first page. A link to my character sheet should be found in my name as a URL from now on.

Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 17:45 on Nov 24, 2014

Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

Malador



Malador answers. "No soul that is not judged has a place here. Not for a year, not for a day, not for a heartbeat." The King of Hell said in a calm but hard voice. "Nolo Contendere is not applicable. The defendant would certainly wish to contest the accusations. But they are unable to defend themselves without representation, nor is there a judge to properly adjudicate matters. But you are right on one thing. We cannot allow these souls to continue being... unprocessed."

"I have to assume the worst for my family." Behind him, large statues of a cold looking woman with an hourglass, a stern looking man holding scales and a smiling youth with a hand extended loomed. "Their tasks will have to fall to another. For the task of judging, already have I one in mind. Soon I shall go and ask him to see to this duty. After that, I shall need to find one willing to defend those souls, and claim those judged deserving of reward."

"Pride, you will keep a close eye on the ice. There might be an outside force working through this ice, and it may seek to control yours. If there is an enemy within the walls, it is to be known. Then... the shortage of devils. We will not turn the damned into devils, no matter how capable. Hell is punishment, not a job opportunity. If hell is in need of more jailers, we shall create them. We may need additional resources for that. Then we will seek them."

He stood, claiming the council over. "Now, see to your tasks. And prepare. Once judgement resumes, more souls will enter. Hell may need to expand to house them. Though know this, if all mortals die, so too will Hell. Any of your agents may wish to be prudent in the cost of lives of their undertakings."

Those things said, Malador prepared to leave hell. A thing like this was not asked in person. And it might be good to leave, to feel how far the gold was piercing into the tunnels. Seven Legionaires followed him, one from each prince, as an honour guard. Now... to Batjullik.

Heading towards Batjullik. Not going to write myself there, in case something interrupts me, except of course the besieging force. If possible, I'd like to sneak past them, but not sneak into the city. We'll simply knock there.


quote:

Malador
Warden of Hell +4 Malador has been in charge of the imprisonment and torment of the damned for countless eons. He is the creator of Devils and they heed him. The chains he forges bind eternally, the gates that he constructs let none pass without his say so and the torment he can bestow is the stuff of legends.

Wishbringer +2 Since taking the name, Malador has often allowed himself to be summoned or even appear before humans, offering wishes, but always with a catch that would morally drat them. He's quite skilled, both in talking to mortals and bringing their selfish desires to fruition.

Prosecutor +2: Malador knows to take the measure of a soul, though he always looks it through a dark tint. He can judge man's sins, know their weaknesses. And as the son of the gods of death and justice he has skill at directing and looking after souls. He might just have to take a larger role than he used to.

The Strictures: -2 He may not force a living mortal to do something, he may not kill a mortal, he may not break a pledge.

Contempt and hatred: -2 Malador is not beloved by mortals, nor does he love them. The only ones who worship him are the selfish and the ruthless, and most decent folk wo
ld refuse any gift from him and avoid him. And Malador himself is loath to actually freely help humanity without it being some attempt to prove their wickedness.

Shogeton fucked around with this message at 02:47 on Dec 5, 2014

Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011

WHY YOU GOTTA BREAK A BROS HEART
Amaguq, the Lone Hunter & Parelle

"Death, Amaguq. It is Death for nations, Gods and continents. The Mother stirs uneasily in her sleep because she senses the death of all approaching and can do little against it. Perhaps if you were a fish of the deep seas or a bird grown fat on the waves of little deaths you could escape, but bound to the people and to the land you will likely freeze and die."

Parelle dug deeply within her pack, producing a small but steady store of treasured ingredients. She whispered her small prayers and songs (mostly to herself) as was her habit and found herself with many packages of steaming hot food which she passed to the elder and the wolf, setting aside a portion for any other guests before taking a portion for herself. Amaguq's mouth watered at the smell, and the Old God took his with a respectful nod before continuing.

"Many flee as you now do, hoping to reach a southern land where the Ice will not follow but they do not know."

He tapped his foot against the cold ground for emphasis, blowing into the package between his hands and taking a hot bite.

"The Ice comes from beneath as well, where it can. And the lands of the South are also already overwhelmed by the deep Ice save where there are still Gods foolish enough to stave it off. After Death or Between is no escape as well, for the Ice freezes there just as quickly and painfully as it does here."

Parelle's roll was an extraordinary success! She has created an expendable +2 Heavenly Meal, which can be used to resist a rank of (temporary) cold damage or stave off the death of a body of mortals from cold/starvation. It has been shard amongst the Gods present, who sadly do not have any (temporary) cold damage to resist at the moment but if somebody wants to take the last slice in the box that's fine too. ??? seems to be a pretty glum old bastard.

Deep Beneath - Piper, Father Of The Scurrying

Piper lashed out at the cat beast, going for the throat or whatever else was particularly available or vulnerable. It dodged, lashing out in return but losing him as he slipped backwards into the darksome tunnels with which he was intimately more familiar. He ran, doubling back and squeezing himself into narrow crevices as he formulated a particularly un-rattish plan. What if he could trap it? To eat later? Or cripple it, to... force it to obey? What if?

The Deep Dweller burst through the tunnel behind him, radar senses flaring ahead and stunning Piper briefly. Piper squeaked in surprise and anger, momentarily reverting to his original size in a burst of divine terror which saved him as the weakened tunnel collapsed around them both. It was his smaller size which saved him as he squeezed through an opening in the rubble he could hear the Dweller rumbling deeper beneath, still unharmed but trapped for now. He could flee, and probably rouse his children enough to take them all with him. But where would they go?

I'm interpreting your post as a desire to weaken, entrap, or enslave the Deep Dweller using +2 Survival By Any Means, +2 Scavengers Cunning, +2 King Of The Survivors, +2 Deep Pits And Dark Tunnels; modified by FOOD! -2, it's hard to do the counter-intuitive thing and not try to eat what you fight immediately. (total +6/1AP use) Let's call that a spell/support action that takes place instead of a direct attack, which is what the DD is going to do against you. And now we fight!

DD attack/Piper defense: Piper success! No damage taken!
Piper spell/support action vs DD: Partial failure! DD lured into tunnels Beneath, tunnel collapsed!

Flee, double down on the attack, or something else now that it's (temporarily this round) trapped and unable to act? Your move.


Wallastra

In times past Wallastra had loved the Library, had chosen or hefted by hand every book, scroll, and tablet in order to make certain that all was right and in its right place. He closed his eyes, reopening them through the connection of the many people who had been those hands, who bore his mark and in the past he'd been to draw on their knowledge of the grand building. The raiders appear to have started several fires, burnt many of the library's books for warmth as they moved through it and here he found one of last caretakers. Dead to frostbite or murder, he couldn't guess. He sorrowed at the casual brutality and now priceless weight of knowledge lost before coming to a sudden understanding of what was taken and not merely used for kindling.

Records. Old architectural records from an age barely after the invention of cuneiform, and some which referred to the founding of the city itself. The city had been built around a sacred spring, that much he remembered from the early days of his manifestation, but something was missing. Some key detail had been in the records of the library which were now lost, and the prayers and chants baked into that early clay held more than mere words. A magical record of the city or its origins had been taken.

Batjullik - Malador

The Legionnaires formed up around him and in formation marched with Malador in the deep ways (many of them collapsed or snowed in) beneath the earth and into the icy wastes of the surface. He'd chosen seven, the best and most disciplined of the forces of Hell, but even they were sapped and staggered by the weight of the journey. They followed him uncomplaining through gale and sleet until finally they stood before the Dwarves' last redoubt. A great army stood at the plains before the mount, led by a fiery and fierce God at the head of his small pantheon which clustered close behind their master as he roared his challenge to Vendruck.

Malador curled his lips as he took in the army, ignoring them though their sins were many and grave. There would be time aplenty for that soon. He folded the dark power of his office around himself and his guard to conceal them as they approached the city's massive Gate. Proud and righteous in his task, he raised his fist and simply knocked, ignoring the scars of battle smudges of soot tinged with ichor staining the foot of the Gate.

Auto rolled for Stealth Action +4 Warden of Hell vs. Barbarian Horde (-2 Distracted by Breakfast). Roll is success! You get the impression that this is probably a pretty bad place to stand though...

Batjullik - Vendruck

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bp99XLXGn74

Pochoclo
Feb 4, 2008

No...
Clapping Larry
Isath, Northern Wastes, Icestorm

Pochoclo posted:

Isath, Pillar of Flesh, The Crawling Sun



"One of them had seen, in the distance, a lighthouse that seemed occupied, still working. They drank deep of their mead, and were rowdy. In their stupor, they did not notice the light was too bright. They did not notice it breathing"
- Myths of the Northmen, p. 42

Isath is one of the stranger, less known godlike beings of the world. It has walked the earth for a long time - some very old tales tell of it being different once, a thing most beautiful, born in a place of pure light. It was cast out, into a place with no light, and there it changed. It returned as a ghost, a story told among the Northmen, huddled around a fire, trying to scare each other. Except this ghost existed, and roamed the mountain ranges. Small villages tended to disappear where it went, or so the northmen thought. What they didn't know, is that the villagers lived on. Oh, they lived on, in a way.
Isath is a massive tower of pulsing flesh, intelligent but alien. In the old world, it was content to roam its desolate territories, feeding every now and then. Now, in the death grip of extreme cold, it has become more aggressive, hungrier. It needs to grow, to change, to survive.
It incorporates all manner of living beings into it, and eats and/or changes the rest.

quote:

+4 Flesh: The Pillar is the power of flesh made manifest. It grows, it molds, it bends, swallows and excretes. It is alive, and hungry. It can shape beings of flesh, adapt them to the purposes of the Pillar.

+4 Light: The Pillar originally came from light, but then it ended up in a place of absolute darkness. There, it had to produce its own light, somehow, or die. It had to know light intimately, so as to know what made it keep the ever voracious dark at bay. It also needed something to fuel it. In the sunless, cold wastes, it roams again, and illuminates all.

-4 Megastructure: The Pillar crawls at a slow but steady pace. It is a massive, lumbering tower made of flesh, a fierce torch of cold white light amidst the wastes. It is a building, a place - it is not a warrior, and it cannot travel on a horse. It cannot avoid, it must defend or adapt, by itself or through the flesh it might touch and change.

Isath shrieked and groaned, the everlasting light atop it flickering in the rising winds, dimming as large portions of the enamel and chitin that made up the outer walls of the crawling god got torn off and scattered in the wind, exposing the thick layer of fat beneath.
The flesh adapted quickly, trying to keep up with the immensely destructive cold, but it was increasingly evident that such an approach would not work for much longer. It had been bad enough for the last few days, but this was something else - Isath thought that it could not move much longer. It did not know whether or not this massive front of cold would pass quickly, or if it was here to stay. In any case, the only thing it could do, was try to weather it as long as possible.
The tower stopped in its tracks, changing its shape as fast as it could manage, its surface rippling and cracking as it readjusted. Whenever it cracked, there came shrieks of pain running through the entire length and width of the structure, shrieks muted off by the storm's roar. Isath changed into a large, squat stomach, and it began to coat the ground beneath it in digestive acid, while thousands of sharp scuttling legs at its edges dug away, ensconcing Isath into the ground.
But it would not do, it was not enough. This Isath knew. And, as it literally ate away at the icy soil, it focused on its everlasting light, that one undying part of the god that had truly been and now was not. Isath tapped into a dim memory, of some distant place and time, and changed its light to match that half-remembered form. Isath's light began to grow, and flow. From the very top, in a solid spiral downwards, the light took shape - light that did not illuminate - like a flow of water so strong that it does not wet, but instead it punches and tears apart. Thus, he sought to move light to tear apart the air, and keep the raging winds and cold air away from its body.
Then it would wait, and survive. And once it was safe to move again, prepare for the long journey South. Isath knew it was a risky journey, but it figured there was a much better chance to feed once there.

Using Fleshcraft +4 to digest a hole into the ice and change form to hunker down into it, and Light +4 to form a shield of concentrated flowing light, reducing contact with the outside air as much as possible. (I'm assuming that my weakness doesn't come into play because being small and able to run wouldn't give much of an advantage against a large storm).
Spending 1 AP
(15/16 AP)

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

Swimming upstream
into the sunset



Parelle

Parelle doesn't blow on her food, but instead huddles close to it to take the warmth from it before it cools enough for eating. She's impressed with her work and that makes her smile, but of course the gloomy god thinks that this is the end. Perhaps instead of searching for warmer climes where the rest of the gods were going and subsequently battling to the death she might put down roots with some survivors in the area. Maybe she could build something, though she wasn't particularly good at building. Mortal artifice may suffice though.

"Either of you can have the last of that for the road if you like. I can always make more," she says with a smile. Her feet don't even hurt anymore and that is a goodness. The doom and gloom from the old god is sad, but at least it lets her know that no particular place is safe. "I'm thinking about saving a few of these mortals before more die, for surely they will without help. If any of you would like to travel with me you're welcome to while I pack up. There are so many suffering and time is wasting."

Parelle is searching out the hopeless, those lacking in food, lacking in warmth, and the safest and easiest path to get to them for a total of +8. Not communication, but just a general sense of which groups are in the most need on the planet so she has a sense of where to go next.

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

"Today I will cause problems on purpose"
Wallastra

Unacceptable. The walls will wait, I have a solution in mind for them, but this bares dealing with now.

I will find these perpetrators. They were doomed the moment they thought that outsiders could hide in the darkest places of my city like vermin and escape notice.

There are over 500'000 pairs of eyes in this city (Give or take those who lost one or both to illness or accidents) at every level of society in every part of this city, at least one of them must have seen who these rats are, or where they are hiding. These walls are not safe for trespassers.

Invoke [+4] - Voice of the People. It is customary to mark a small amount of scented perfume on the forehead of every infant brought into the world in the city. This serves two purposes, one a religious ordination by the Mother, the Greater God of children and child birth, to protect the infant from evil spirits and ward off diseases in the crucial early months of development. And the other on the whispered orders to the people responsible for making the perfume, a mark of which Wallastra can extend his influence. Wallastra is if not aware of his own limitations even as a god, possessing the eyes of every man, women and child from the richest merchant prince to the poorest beggar has allowed him to see what he has not seen.

Wallastra is feeling especially passionate about this today, he shall burn 2 AP to ensure that these men are found.

14/16 AP

TheNabster fucked around with this message at 23:43 on Nov 25, 2014

Deadmeat5150
Nov 21, 2005

OLD MAN YELLS AT CLAN
[I] Not cattle, bison! [/b]
Warlord Bismark von Trippletrow, The Blight of Suffering, Savior of Pain, The Smugfather

The great Mustached One reeled atop his throne as he felt each pain his subjects felt. The black marble, veined with green and gold, cracked under his hand. It had come, that which he did not believe, it had come for him. Until now his lands had been relatively untouched by the Fimbulvinter. His people were dying, and not in glorious combat as was right, but rather struck down by a cold so powerful that gods themselves had been lost.

Priests and acolytes scurried away from their God as he writhed in his seat. Though he barely came to the waist of the average human, and to the knees of his own people, his presence was filled with power and dread.

"Your Holiness," his Archbishop-in-Chief Wilhelm Stryker said as he approached, "what troubles you?" For the first time in his long and storied life, Wilhelm felt fear. His god was in pain, why?

"WILHELM," Bismark's voice thundered in the vaulted stone chamber, "THE PEOPLE SUFFER. THE PEOPLE DIE."

"The people have always died, your Holiness, for you"

"THIS IS AN UNNATURAL DEATH." The tremors passed and the pain subsided, allowing the Warlord to look his highest priest in the eye. "THESE SOULS DO NOT PASS ON TO KRIEGERHIMMEL AS THEY SHOULD, BUT INSTEAD LANGUISH IN MALADOR'S REALM."

"Is it the frost? Has it finally come for us?"
"IT HAS." No two words had ever been uttered with such finality.

"What shall we do, Mighty One? There is not enough space in the cities for everyone in the Empire!"

"THESE WILL BE FAMINE" Bismark said with a great weariness. "MORE WILL DIE OF THE COLD AS WELL. BUT WE WILL PERSEVERE! FETCH THE KAISER AT ONCE!"

Wilhelm dashed off to find the Administrative Head of the Empire.

(To be continued)

Rauri
Jan 13, 2008




Larissa
Thaisaidain

"Then we won't be raiding. Easy." The wraith stared at her like she was insane. Which she was, by mortal standards anyways, but they're mortals so who cares what they think. Standing up from the her throne of slain foes, Larissa stretched (it was strange how even Gods got backaches) and then started giving orders. Mostly to the wraith, but the other intelligent courtiers would know when she meant them or find themselves food for those that did.

"Send out the Spies. The Whispers, Cold Wraiths, Carnival of Spectres, whoever else - and any Captives or cults we have nearby. I want to know where the mortals are, where they're concentrated and weak. The rest of you - wake the sleepers, ready the legions, and see to it that the crypts and necropoli are alerted." Several vampires and ghosts scattered instantly to fulfill her instructions, while others milled about anticipating further commands.

By this point Larissa was pacing the center of the room, hands behind her back, very much enjoying herself. Thaisaidain had been home for... well, at least six thousand years. It was about time she moved into a place of her own. "If it's portable and we need it, grab it. The big horrors and unmovable beasts will stay here. This blizzard is a bigger problem for mortals than it is us, no one will have the power to move in here while we're gone. We'll devour any living - that aren't one of my cultists, probably - we find along the way, and use any leftover bits as reagents. Once we reach our destination, we'll found a new... hunting encampment, for the time being. Times change, and if our prey moves, we follow."

She already had visions of her, sitting atop a new throne, in a new city. One that she destroyed herself, a greater victory than conquering Thaisaidain had ever been. Also the chair will be much more comfortable.

---

Using Queen of Undeath [+6] to do all the necessary groundwork for a massive undead invasion. Scouting possible targets*, getting all undead and cultists ready to march, and grabbing whatever is necessary or valuable in Thaisaidain and preparing it for transport. She'll probably end up leaving a sacrificial skeleton-crew composed of the skeletons (and other undead) she doesn't particularly care for behind to "guard the city".

Unfortunately, New at This [-2] also applies. This is her first invasion - there's a lot of little details to mess up - so hopefully it's a learning experience.

Spending 1 AP (15/16)


quote:

Larissa, the Queen of Undeath Vampire Queen



quote:

Queen of Undeath [+6] : First among the unliving (and daughter of the former God of Undeath, Sunhon), Larissa's abilities to create and command undead, employ necromantic effects, and to empower others to do the same are unparalleled in all of creation. It's gone to her head a bit. She's still not happy with her title, and is thinking about changing it to Vampire Queen, but isn't sure if that's too specific sounding - no sense in letting the Liches think they're allowed to start back-talking her.

Dweller in Darkness [+2] : Larissa's original portfolio. The legends say her mother was the night itself - true or not, she is a child of darkness. Useful for weaving night and shadows, traversing vast distances by using tenebrous passages, and destroying what light remains in this world. For most of her unlife, Larissa's just used it to hunt more easily, to listen in on the conversations of others for her amusement, and when the mood strikes her, to destroy sleepy little villages with an army of shadow monsters.

New at This [-2] : In a way, she's extremely lucky. She was in torpor following an ambush by a particularly prepared and powerful paladin when her whole family (the undead pantheon) went out to fix the whole endless winter problem. Presumably, they all ended up finaldead because when Larissa awoke from her slumber she discovered that she was suddenly the undead pantheon, with accompanying boost in divine stature. Since the frost issue is recent, so too is Larissa's rise to true Godhood. As such she's still working out how to do some of the more complicated stuff, and in a lot of ways still thinks like she's just a powerful vampire.

Nocturnal [-2] : Part unfamiliarity, part still thinking like a vampire, part lingering fear, part her domains - whatever the specific percentages, these factors weaken Larissa during the day. She's powerful enough now to not be damaged by sunlight, but still prefers to avoid it as much as she can. A fact intelligent enemies can use to their advantage, but lets be fair - attacking undead with daylight is about the most cliche plan ever, using it doesn't make you some sort of genius. Really, it's a hack move.

Rauri fucked around with this message at 00:44 on Nov 25, 2014

Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011

WHY YOU GOTTA BREAK A BROS HEART
Amaguq, the Lone Hunter & Parelle

Parelle was never much for farseeing. Her brothers all boasted superior senses from their various martial domains, being able to see the fall of every swallow, or count the drops of water on a fly's wings from across the world but the most she'd really ever tried was the smaller senses needed in keeping her kitchen and home in good order. But she did have special senses of her own. She could (probably) usually find the best path to a given destination, she had good instincts for how to combine otherwise ordinary ingredients into fine and filling meals, and she could in her own vague way detect the hopes (or lack thereof) of other living beings.

She blew into her hands gently, cheeks still warm from the food and feet much the better for having had the chance to sit and rest. Somewhere out there she could feel the light of mortal souls, hearths and homes struggling to barely survive against the Ice. She blew into her hands and the warmth suffused her body all the way down to her feet, which now she guessed probably knew the straightest path to just such a group of mortals. Her feet tapped impatiently, having found a path of their own.

Isath, Northern Wastes, Icestorm

Isath's superstructure groaned as it sped into high gear, uninsulated pieces crackling as they froze and were ejected from the main body of the tower before the Ice could cause more serious loss of heat to necessary internal organs. Venting digestive juices and scrabbling away at the permafrost with a thousand feet turned claws turned fangs, the Tower shuddered into a lower profile as it dug itself deeply and steadily into the earth. A hot lance of light burst forth from the pinnacle of the tower, heating the air in a thin layer between Isath and the storm as it poured divine power steadily in order to maintain internal temperatures at a state of safe equilibrium.

Isath dug deeply, and forming its own windbreak settled in to await the passing of the Icestorm.

ISATH chooses not to attack, opting instead to cast a defensive spell to allow it to wait out the storm instead.
ICESTORM Attack/ISATH Defends! ISATH success! No damage taken!
ISATH casts spell, BUNKER DOWN! ICESTORM does not resist, action successful! While remaining Immobile for the duration of this and another scene, ISATH is not vulnerable to the effects of the cold! (unless ICESTORM increases severely in intensity in which case you might be in a lot of trouble)


Wallastra

500,000 pairs of eyes opened across the city, 500,000 heads turned to look as their senses and memories raced to put together a picture of where the thieves were and where they had gone. A party of Men, three of them calling themselves Wizards, had entered the city by the Northern Gate. With effort they had unearthed one of the city's survivors, feeding him a hot meal and trading him a thick fur in exchange for directions to the Library.

From there they'd stayed long at the Library, until the smoke from their fires attracted the attention of what remained of Wallastra's watch. By magic or stealth they'd left the building and following a circuitous path entered the city's sewers where they currently seemed to be wandering at random. He listened carefully through the composite senses of the city, feeling their travel beneath the roads which he'd planned and planted himself and found them. There.

Larissa - Thaisaidain

The dead of Thaisaidain leapt to Larissa's command, rallying around her orders because they knew well enough the price of disobedience. Her armies girded themselves for war, readying scouts, supply lines, and vanguards who promptly marched out of her kingdom in good order and just as promptly reported massive losses due to encounters with the Ice. Many of the types of Undead which comprised her forces, even bolstered by necromantic magicks, found themselves slowed and vulnerable to the cold. Brittle limbs and unbeating hearts alike froze solid, and those that did not found themselves crumbling to dust as the snow overhead shifted to momentarily reveal the face of the Sun.

Her wraith-like scouts fared far better, though they too took their losses as the cold or sun forced them to dissipate. They report three mortal kingdoms far from Thaisaidain across the Ice, each still rich and ripe with heat and mortal life. Firstly there was the last fortress city of the Dwarves, where another army led by a barbarian God of Fire and Wrath besieged the half-men. Secondly the Empire of the Bearded Men, long formed but only now beginning to feel the effects of the Ice as its borders contracted and the storms choked the travel and communications which held the fragile network together. Farthest of all there was a narrow valley in the deep mountains, where against all logic it seemed the Spring still held sway. There the rivers rang with the clean burble of mountain song, and songbirds flitted in pursuit of sweet fruits and flowers while the mortals reclined happily and at ease in their Paradise.

Behind closed crypts and fans of stretched skin and bone, the nobility of Thaisaidain whispered. Larissa was young. Larissa was foolish to waste so the lives of her soldiers. In the tombs of those creatures inured to or crafted for the cold, it was whispered that Larissa was weak. The armies mustered to march (though the best of each noble's forces remained unmoved through a combination of excuses) and huddled together in their pits, her mortal followers continued to starve and weaken.

Turns out Undead armies marching out into the cold doesn't end well for most types of Undead. At least, not as a result of this roll. 50,000 of the Undead have died the True Death as a result of cold-related travel! Your scouts do find three likely targets though, of varying difficulty and dangerous travel intensity. However, a significant portion of your city's population is now prepared to march. How many survive is your business.

Thaisaidain - Tomb City, Ancient Horrors, Cursed Magic, (population 450,000 Undead/assorted spirits, 50,000 mortals: Condition Dying)

TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011
Amaguq, Hungry Like The Wolf

"After warmth, food is the most welcome of gifts," he says, before approaching to dip his muzzle into the stew offered to him (no, not into the cooking pot itself; he's not some graceless animal). "I do not have much to offer in return, but what I can hear on the winds, that I shall tell to you."

Inbetween All Worlds [+2] plus Everything New Under the Sun [+2], and what the heck, 1 AP too, to listen to prayers from as far away as I can sense them, and to detect any important changes that have been wrought in the world of late. If I need to resist the Cold to accomplish this, does Parelle's gift fortify me against any adverse effects?

"Old One, you speak of the Ice Beneath, and to the South already as well…do you know where and how it began?"

Turning to the other, he adds, "And you, Young One: if we could learn of some way to beat back the encroaching Ice, would you do it? Would you save mankind-- and Godkind for that matter -- even at the cost of your Self, your very Divine essence?"

TychoBrahesNose fucked around with this message at 16:51 on Nov 25, 2014

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

"Today I will cause problems on purpose"
Wallastra

Wallastra looked at these men. Outsiders, Barbarians, Magic-users there is only one fitting punishment for those who would so brazenly damage what was his. He quietly raised his hand, and reached deep into the sewers...

(+4 - The Grand Design). The sewers of Wallastra, although not the most magnificent thing to take pride in, were a structural marvel designed by one of the brightest minds of his generation, whose name escapes Wallastra at this points, he thinks it might have been Farroq. They were designed to accommodate the waste of much more people then the current population of city, and direct the waste into vats to be disposed of, or into the sea if the mass was too large. But, Wallastra found the design of the sewers had an unintentional use.

It started with a groaning, a low groaning, deep in the distance that echoed through the tunnels. Then came the rumbling, that grew louder and louder shaking away the brick dust that had settled in the sewers. And then it appeared. The refuse of 500'000 citizens, hurtling through the tunnels towards the men as flood gates were opened and closed throughout the sewers to redirect the flow of refuge towards these insurgents. He would lead them back to where he wanted them to be, one way or another, and he will have the watch on hand there to greet them when they arrive.

He didn't notice that he had burned 2 AP to do it.

12/16 AP

TheNabster fucked around with this message at 23:42 on Nov 25, 2014

Rauri
Jan 13, 2008




Larissa
Thaisaidain

"Muruk, approach." Larissa gestured lazily with one hand, the other holding what was supposed to be a cup of blood*.

Muruk the Eternal stepped tentatively forward into the center of the packed throne room. He either didn't yet understand what was going on, or did and was anxious about it. Larissa had summoned every noble in the city, and had made it incredibly clear this was not a suggestion they could just ignore. She wanted to make sure everyone who dared doubt her was on hand for an object lesson in the dangers of crossing Divinity.

"Your... highness." He stared up at her from the center of the room, flaring green eyes trying to bore holes through her. She vaguely remembered that he'd been one of the priests that had introduced the king of Akshan to her father's worship, long ago. He'd been mortal once, and however long ago that was, made his title of 'The Eternal' vaguely irritating to Larissa. As did his stubborn and continued insistence on undermining her authority, behind her back, at every turn. He'd been her father's seneschal for centuries - presumably he'd always envisioned himself taking the top spot himself one day.

"Muruk, I'd like you to repeat to everyone here something you said the other day, something you said to Voljek over there. It was about me from what I hear." Larissa was grinning, laughing a little as she lapsed into silence. Voljek looked like he wanted to crawl back into his coffin, clearly not wanting to be involved in this at all. After watching Muruk for signs of immediate aggressive intent, she added. "It was pretty cleverly put. Something about age before beauty qualifying you over me to replace Sunhon?"

It turns out even undead crowds can gasp (and cough out dust, and wheeze, and chatter) in anticipation. The undead lords knew now what was going to happen - everything until then was just for show. To his credit, Muruk simply stared at her and waited. Despite her bravado, Larissa knew he was a powerful foe. That was one of the reasons she'd selected him; best to prove to everyone that none of them could hope to question her might.

"So, what were your next steps? Whine to the mummies? Maybe inspire some of the mortals to start worshiping you, instead of me? Try and stake me?" With each suggestion Larissa was growing visibly more irritated, was speaking in louder tones. "What was your plan?" She threw her goblet across the room. "To try and attack me? Kill me? Steal my throne?!" She was nearly in a frenzy at this point, and all at once bared both fang and claw.

Standing up from her throne, Larissa's form began to unglow with horrible divine energy. The shadows deepened and the room seemed to grow. Muruk raised his own defenses, foul green light springing up about him in ancient patterns.


Muruk the Eternal
---

Larissa is going to diablerize (if possible) and kill (if not) one of the most powerful undead nobles. Think of it like going to prison - she's putting a beating on one of the tough guys early to prove she won't put up with anyone's poo poo / that she is to be respected, feared, and obeyed. Next time they'll provide all their drat troops when she asks for them.

If she ends up diablerizing him, she'll grant his powers to some of the weaker nobles. They'll be more grateful for it + less likely to challenge her in the future. That's provided she wins, of course.

Attacking / Defending with

Queen of Undeath [+6] - Using claws, fangs, and pure negative energy to attack, while relying on her own toughened undead frame, regeneration, and divine resilience to defend.
Dweller in Darkness [+2] - To strike unseen, rip and tears with the shadows themselves, and to solidify the darkness as shields against Muruk's attacks.

Spending 1 AP (14/16)

*Due to the cold, it's more of a slushy.

Rauri fucked around with this message at 04:21 on Nov 25, 2014

Deadmeat5150
Nov 21, 2005

OLD MAN YELLS AT CLAN
Warlord Bismark von Trippletrow, The Blight of Suffering, Savior of Pain, The Smugfather

16/16 AP

"KAISER," Bismark thundered from his throne as the man prostrated himself. The short period of time spent waiting for the man to arrive from the palace on the north side of the city was excruciating. Bismark tended to let his mind wander his lands when nothing commanded his immediate attention, but the knowledge that his people lay dying weighed on him.


The Kaiser was a slight man, although with impeccable facial hair (which was very important to keep your god happy). "You summoned me, oh Holy One?"

Bismark slipped out of his throne and landed on the floor with a pad of orange furred feet. "Johann," he said quietly, "Johann what is happening? The royal seers predicted the Fimbulvinter would not affect us, that the Empire would survive this." His voice was gravely deep, like a distant avalanche. His attempts to be quiet set an uneasy rumble through the room. The various functionaries knew that when the Kaiser and their god met, it was best to distance yourself. Very few humans received the blessing of seeing Bismark like this. They were always humans he trusted and respect, and whose advice he had found to be quite good.

"Holiness, the seers were wrong, that's all I can say for sure."

"And our people will suffer for it? Remove an eye from each of them. Dry them and seal them in glass. If they wish their visions to serve themselves then they shall wear a reminder of what their oaths mean around their neck. Summon the Royal Huntsmen, I want them in the mountains to the north and to the south, bring our people down from their. They are hardy and have suffered the cold for centuries. Perhaps it is time to tap their wisdom."

"An excellent idea, Holiness, I will do so at once." Kaiser Johann Liberhulm Strauss III prostrated himself again, his forehead tapping the polished limestone tiles, then left while barking orders. Bismark may confide in the man, may even call him friend on occasion. But he was still a god.

He reached one long-fingered hand up to stroke the black marble of his throne. It had been a gift from a deity long since fallen silent. He could hardly remember the face or name at all, only that he had power over stone and metal. The throne had been his seat of power ever since. If his empire was to survive, he would have to change. The very thought burned inside him and a grimace forced itself across his lips. A disgusting concept, change. Why do anything other than what had worked in the past? Well Bismark had seen what the Fimbulvinter had done to those gods who laughed in its face. He wasn't about to make the same mistake.

"It is time you became more than what you seem," he said to the throne. An amber light began to pour from Bismark's eyes and mouth, smokelike, and curled tendrils around the throne.

Alright now that I've got some confirmation on what I can do I'm going to do it! First is sending out my humans to bring in the people of the mountains the the cities. +2 Commander is sadly going to be canceled out by -2 Sprawling Empire. For my major action I will be creating a +2 Artifact and burning 4 AP in the process. The Seat of Power will be an artifact with the ability of +2 Seat of Power, and only works when a divine butt is planted in it. The Seat of Power confers on the sitter the ability to see into any part of the land he claims and, with effort, speak with whoever is there though they can't see him. +4 Warmaster as this will be a seat of great tactical and strategic advantage, Bismark may be kicking himself as to why he didn't think of it before. and +2 The Empire as it will be used to view his lands, the lands of the Empire. Of course as people leave, those lands may shrink.

HiKaizer
Feb 2, 2012

Yes!
I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!
Vendruck


16/16 AP

Arthak. A detestable and cursed name if ever there was one. One of the quickest to claim what he wanted, and now that his greed had caught up with him and cost him much of his people and his entire domain to ice he came traipsing here. Was it he who had sacked Hjelkar? Possible, but Vendruck didn't think so. Arthak would have moved on and his people would not have waited to die. Besides if he had, the barbarian would be gloating about it even now. Still, Vendruck was curious about the origin of these Dwarves. Had they managed to survive capture, or had they been loyal but chosen to live on the surface? Or were they filthy traitors, who had turned their backs on him and now suffered for their lack of honour and duty. He had to know.

The Dwarves above the gate, moved a great contraption into place. It was a set of complicated glass plates of many colours and focus. When light was channelled through them they produced an image of what had been carefully worked out ahead of time. In this case it was Vendruck. Arthak was desperate and full of bluster, so Vendruck would play off of that for the time being. A lantern was brought to bear and the image flickered into light, startling the miserable captive dwarves. Arthak burst into hideous and mocking laughter.

POOR LITTLE VENDRUCK, TOO AFRAID TO MEET ME IN PERSON! LOOK AT YOUR TRICKS, WHAT WILL YOUR SCARY GHOST DO? OOOOH!!!

The barbarian waved his hand through the image, causing the complicated set of reflections to shine onto a different point than intended and distorting the image. The crowd behind him brayed obediently.

"HAIL MIGHTY ARTHAK. GLORIOUS CONQUEROR OF THE PLAINS OF PARN." Vendruck began, referencing the homelands of the barbarian peoples. His voice was laced with spite and insult, and spoke their tongue although accented and slightly crudely. Few of the dwarves in Batjullik would understand the exchange. "HOW GOES YOUR HERDS? YOUR SHAMANS ARE WELL STOCKED WITH HERBS FOR HEALING AND VISIONS I HOPE? HOW DESPERATE ARE YOU THAT YOU MUST EAT MY CHILDREN, WHO YOU SO HUMBLY REMINDED ME WERE NOT...IN YOUR WORDS, A 'REAL PEOPLE' AND 'CRUDE IMITATIONS OF THE WORK OF TRUE GODS'. YOUR GLORY IS HUMBLING THAT YOU MUST STOOP TO SUCH LOWS."

Good, get him angry and keep him talking. Meanwhile Vendruck reached out, slightly, to sense at the connection to the Dwarves. Were they his? Or did they belong to another?

All this time, his sappers moved into position...ready for Vendruck's command.

Vendruck needs to know if these Dwarves are worthy of saving. Are they promised to another god, dead or alive, or do they remain faithful to him?

Artifice [+2] to distract Arthak and his forces with a pretty light show.
Dwarf [+4] to test his connection to his 'children' out there.
Grudgebearer [-4] because he hates Arthak as a bully and one of his tormentors. There are no imagined grudges here I am sure.

Total +2

OscarDiggs
Jun 1, 2011

Those sure are words on pages which are given in a sequential order!
Deep Beneath - Piper, Father Of The Scurrying
15/16

Irritated and hungry, Piper wormed his way through the small openings. Listening as the infuriated beast crashed and banged uselessly into the collapsed walls, Piper slowly wriggled higher and higher above the monster. This thing would be the first of many to pay for it's species crimes against Piper and his ilk. The beast thrashed again and again, making more and more headway into the collapsed tunnel to make it's escape. Then came Pipers opening; the thing plowed into the wall at top speed and was forced to pull itself back and turn around before it could slam it again. As it spun in place Piper pounced from his hiding spot, intent on rending life from the monster.

Ah well, attack the thing good and proper while it's stuck. If it survives another round, I'll try again in it's weakened state. Otherwise, make it mincemeat. Straight up attack with Survival By Any Means, +2 Scavengers Cunning, +2 King Of The Survivors and +2 Deep Pits And Dark Tunnels. I'm stuck using a phone at the moment so I can't paste in my character sheet. I should have internet back by later tonight though, if the estimate is to be believed. Sorry for the inconvenience, Puppies

Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011

WHY YOU GOTTA BREAK A BROS HEART
Larissa - Thaisaidain

"Stupid girl! You think yourself the better of ME?! While you were bouncing from your father's knee I and my coven were alre-"

Muruk drew himself to his full height, launching into a tirade of his own before abruptly scattering into a cloud of beetles which reformed at her feet. The sudden shift in tone from dialogue to attack and unusual direction catching her off guard as Larissa waffled between striking physically or with a divinely empowered blast. More practiced and confident in his powers Muruk slashed at her with claw and artifice, melting away where she expected confrontation and slipping forward where she thought he'd withdraw.

Larissa uttered a Word of Power, blasting the immediate space with destructive power but Muruk was already fleeing as soon as she opened her mouth. Annoyed, she chased after him only to receive a sharp edged beetle in the eye for her troubles.

The nearest cognate to diablerie is to drain an enemy God of Traits, either for AP or increased Traits of your own. Muruk the Eternal Beguiler is a +4 relatively hefty +4 Vampire Priest and cannot be consumed for Trait gain. But he is good for 2 AP if you squeeze him like an orange! He's also taking advantage of the fact that Larissa's not very experienced at using her powers to fight Vampire Lords because she's -2 New at this. Now we fight! Muruk Plays it Cagey, +2 Defense/-2 Attack

Larissa Attacks/Muruk Defends! Muruk Defense successful, no damage taken! Area is temporarily blighted by Undeath!
Muruk Attacks/Larissa Defends! Larissa Defense failure, one rank damage taken!

ATTACK or FLEE, your choice!


Wallastra

The city (and bowels of its 500,000 inhabitants) groaned as the simultaneous contractions became a trickle and became a flood. Beneath the streets Wallastra sensed the panic of the outsiders as they hastily erected walls of magic, and when those failed fled from turn to turn in the waist-high muck. But the tide shifted as the walls and tunnels of the sewer itself moved with the force of the God's will, tossing them aside in its current like stray leaves until they were dragged heaving, half drowned, and stinking by a heavily armed squad of the city's watch.

Intruders = bagged

Amaguq, the Lone Hunter & Parelle

Those who can, do. Those who can't, dare not. Buoyed by the hot food and proximity of the other Gods Amaguq decided to take a calculated (but great) risk. He opened his mind (and ears) to the racing whispers of the wind, catching the scent of the changing world from between as it scattered before the all-encompassing reality of the Ice. Far to the South the last kingdom of Men to meet the Ice was dying, its throes etching the suffering of its millions across the flesh of its patron God. Deep Beneath the earth wretched things stirred. Horrible things, so alien to him that the scent of their secrets brought him pain. They were of a scale which beggared his and were being crushed or wakened by the twisting of the Earth. Similarly the seas hosted a strange cavalcade of deities, some mighty, some insignificant as they swarmed the deep and temperate zones still warm enough for life. To the south a vampire lord prepared to betray his mistress, who mustered the entirety of her army to ride forth and claim a new kingdom for her own. The Empire of Men lay staggered and vulnerable, freezing and paralyzed by the inaction of its master.

Amaguq turned his head and opened his mouth to speak, and his vision turned forward to the humble campfire. The Old God was enormous, his shape so large that it distorted the flow of the world around them. There were so many voices and souls bound up in the Old One, and all of them were shouting, saying that-

The weight of the cold came crashing down upon Amaguq, the global range he'd opened his senses to transmitting directly the dangerous coldness of the Ice which blanketed it. He twisted, rolling in pain and terror as his mind and soul flash froze and the Ice began bleeding from his eyes and ears.

Trickster roll for detecting global prayers and major events = success! Global scale spell = Contact with Ice! Trickster (+8) resists = Unsuccessful! Trickster takes 5 (-10) ranks of (temporary) cold damage!

Warlord Bismark von Trippletrow, The Blight of Suffering, Savior of Pain, The Smugfather

Bismark gripped the arms of his throne, channeling the power of his connection to the Empire and its people through his divine core and into the seat which had seen the many turns of history and tradition that shaped it. There was power there already, and knowledge, and a reflected foresight transferred from repeated proximity to his own divine person and as he reached into it metaphysically he found it to be a welcoming source. His power (and its) blossomed as the two bodies harmonized with one another, reaching out for a moment as he now watched directly over the Empire from his Seat.

Bismark (+6, 4 AP) attempts to craft an artifact, +2 Seat of Power! Roll was a spectacular success! Level of artifact was increased! Bismark has created a +4 Seat of Power/-2 Immobile Seat It's a chair that does those things while you're sitting on it. Gotta be a God-butt though or that dog don't hunt.

Batjullik - Vendruck & Malador

Vendruck's servants maneuvered the device into place as his sappers readied themselves in the distance. His own shouted taunts and challenges caused Arthak to redden and bristle, and the Barbarian God made a rude gesture in response. His lips moved as he issued quiet orders to the lesser Gods clustered behind him, and he plucked a live dwarf from the rack and began to pull.

"Vendruck hold my soul. In the halls of my ancestors I- aaaaaah!" / "HALF-FINISHED AND MALFORMED, BUT THEY TASTE JUST AS GOOD!"

Vendruck's eyes saw red as Arthak's teeth tore into the flesh of the Dwarf and ripped its soul forth bodily. The Barbarian crunched noisily away before throwing the meat behind him. He laughed. These were Dwarves taken as captives, who had attempted to flee through the undertunnels to Batjullik after the fall of their city but were forced to the surface due to collapses from the weight of the snow. Refugees, the (likely) last of his people of that lineage and place and Arthak was happily pulling them apart and consuming their souls. Their prayers and fears etched themselves into Vendruck's soul as the weight of the many grudges between them drove Vendruck nearly inchoate.

Malador watched the exchange from before the mighty gate, and spotted something flashing above him as an image of Vendruck appeared some distance behind and away towards the Barbarian army. It seemed that Vendruck was present in spirit if not in form. Had the Dwarves not noticed his knock? Mechanisms were moving and he sensed the rising immediacy of the danger in his position.

Seriously, that poo poo's about to turn hot and this might be a really bad place to be standing.

Deep Beneath - Piper, Father Of The Scurrying

Piper dove into the stunned beast, the advantage of close quarters and his hunger emboldening him as he attacked in full earnest. They thrashed and rolled, locked together in lethal combat as the earth cracked and shook around them. The tunnel collapsed and the dust settled, Piper found himself to be the undisputed victor!

Piper attacks (+8)/DD defends, defense failure! DD takes 6 ranks of damage, instantly dead!

Speleothing
May 6, 2008

Spare batteries are pretty key.
Brother Yak

This was no good. No good at all. Nobody anywhere in his favorite places in the alpine valleys. Not even a little orphan child for him to rescue. He huffed and watched it all turn to ice right away. Too cold, much too cold for anybody who isn't a yak. Too cold for a lot of yaks, even. He'd have to try someplace else. He backed up a little bit and found his footing, and then with a running start he leapt across the foothills, crashing down among the highlands. Then he found his footing again and with another running start he jumped to the lowlands. A bit warmer now. He huffed again and took a big sniff - people!

Using Strength +4 to travel to where there are people. Probably either Bismark's or Wallastra's realm

Pochoclo
Feb 4, 2008

No...
Clapping Larry
Isath, Northern Wastes, Icestorm

Isath fell into a state of calmness, so much that it was a tempting prospect to just forget all about the storm and go to sleep. But he knew that losing focus would be deadly. The first thing, it thought, was to know more about the storm - Isath had no idea at all about the magnitude, area, and speed of the storm, three things that it would need to know, if it was to plan an effective survival strategy.
The shield of light was stable enough now. As long as it didn't move much, it would be able to probe the storm. To be on the safe side, it wouldn't expose any flesh to the whirling winds. First, it trimmed some excess light off the shield, and shaped it in the form of long, thin waves, shaked them thoroughly until they were high in energy, and unleashed them on the storm, where they scattered. Then, inside, in the very bowels of the Pillar, a gigantic sensory organ formed - one attuned to perceive rough, powerful vibrations over long stretches of land, and it was close enough to the ground. Hopefully, it would be enough to gain a general forecast.

Scattering ultraviolet lasers into the storm with Light +4, and forming a giant ear inside Isath with Flesh +4, to figure out the speed, size, and intensity of the storm, especially how long it will last until it passes, and if it's going to get stronger or not.

15/16

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

"Today I will cause problems on purpose"
Wallastra
12/16 AP


I trust the city watch will be able to handle this matter from here, now onto other pressing concerns.

The Mortar in the walls isn't holding, I have two ideas that could fix this, but I will need some help from the guilds to carry out the work.

Let us try the first idea, one time an amateur architect called Melzin proposed a new way of building walls. Rather then relying solely on mortar and solid bricks to hold walls together, he proposed an alternative. He created a substance from seemingly simple ingredients that had the same solid consistency of cut stone but could be poured into a mold similar to metal working to create structures that would have normally taken days of skilled craftsmenship to create, he named the substance Koncreet. It was a novel idea for it's time, but the solid walls of Wallastra had stood for years and the ruling prince saw no need to 'fix' what was not broken. It also did not help that his attempts to try his method of construction elsewhere in the city, was met with hostility from the Stonecutting Guilds who saw the Koncreet as a threat to their profit margins.

Thankfully, he had the good sense to preserve his notes at the library, and I can confirm they are still there. Let us see if his work can stand against this biting cold.

[+4] - Voice of the People. Missives were whispered to Priests to retrieve these notes from the library and gather a selection of the remaining Stonecutters. They were to try and replicate Melzin's creation of Koncreet with his notes, and then to try and patch the holes in the walls with the substance. I shall also pull some additional hands to get the necessary components, gravel, lime, and water.

I can refer to them my orders and I will give them my blessings to do so , but I will still be relying on them to carry them out the specifics ([-2] - Does Not Micromanage)

TheNabster fucked around with this message at 23:38 on Nov 25, 2014

Ice Phisherman
Apr 12, 2007

Swimming upstream
into the sunset



Parelle

Parelle watches Amaguq work his magics, but she places both of her heavy mittens to her mouth to stifle a scream as he is covered in frost. That could have been her if she hadn't failed so utterly. In another situation, one may offer prayers, but to who? Instead she pushes the last of the food in his direction, knowing it to be something. She tries to look through her pack again for food, but nothing could be heated up fast enough. Instead she opens a tiny bottle of whiskey with a rich cinnamon smell and thrusts it towards him, and since he has no hands for which to grasp, will pour for him if he wishes to drink.

"Are you okay!? What happened?!"

I don't want to touch the food as it is already guaranteed to heal him, though it is tempting to super charge it. Instead I'm just trying to heal the damage with some fire whiskey, +2 warmth, +2 hope, +2 food and drink.

15/16 AP

Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 20:00 on Nov 25, 2014

Josef bugman
Nov 17, 2011

Pictured: Poster prepares to celebrate Holy Communion (probablY)

This avatar made possible by a gift from the Religionthread Posters Relief Fund
Aesculus


A Portrait of Aesculus as Guardian of The Lost

quote:

[+4]- Master of Metal Working Aesculus was the first amongst the southern Pantheon to develop the process of Metal and Stone working, his mastery of the flint knife, the obsidian blade and the iron sword are legendary. But he also made many fine items for the gods of his pantheon. Now starved of the resources he needs Aesculus moves through the world ahead of the storm trying to build something anything that will slow the advancing winter.

[+2]- Defender of the Home Aesculus was left at home when his friends and lords in the Pantheon went to speak about the great winter, as he always was. His role, his reason for being is to defend and to protect. It was to him that Mercenaries prayed too in order to survive one more day, it was to him that those who had to hold bridges built shrines. Let the glorious ones grab the prizes, they will only have somewhere to come back to because of Aesculus and those who follow him.

[+2]- Wielder of Fire Aesculus is said to have taken Fire when the Sun was young and did not know how to use it's power responsibly. There are legends of him stealing it to heat the house of his God during the first night time. Whatever the truth Aesculus is very able to manipulate and use fire, no matter how useless it now appears against the coming Ice Age.

[-4]- Does not Run Aesculus has only run once and that was when the heart was frozen inside the chest of Hal-Shammar at the death of the Pantheon. And only then because he had been told to flee if His Father died defending them all. He hates this stain on his honour and will do anything to either expunge it, or to prevent anything like it from happening again.


Aesculus picked up the owls empty eye socket for a moment before calling for one of the many priests that Ascalon needed to take it away "Take it to the forge, I have something in mind to give hope to the people with it". Bending down he also saw the misplaced note and examined it quizically. "If there was ever a time for more weirdness could it not have been prior to the end of the world?" he mused almost smiling to himself before writing out a short missive to one of the various rat catcher guilds to both up patrols and ensure that the amount of people around both the waste pits and the grain bins were briefed on how it was their holy duty to defend against both disease and theft.

He set off down the stairs from his tower, doing brief calculations as to the best way to strengthen the walls against the potential growth of permafrost, before he made it to the Forge, the Owls eyes were still in his hand as he laid one down on the anvil and began to go to work. If he could view the storms before they happened -Clang- or at the very least before they arrived -Clang- he could accept even more people in and know when, -Clang- should the day come when he had to turn people away -Clang- when that would be.

Whilst at work he called over one of his smith priests. "Carrosh at your service my Lord" says the woman, her face speaks of small cares and soot, Aesculus kneels down so that his great horned mask is about level with her and speaks in his bass rumble "Carrosh, I need you to gather the remaining forge priests and any of those who are known to you that can read or write, I need a collection of tales, to work out if there is anything from them that can be used to fight this unholy winter."


Plans:
Trying to make one of the eyes into an automatic "early warning" system for incoming storms. The thing is to be mounted into a tower on the outskirts. [+4 Metalworking]
Going to get my men in the storage to do some scouting and awareness training for the rats, we need to make sure little is lost [+2 Defender of the home] defending it from loss and ruin!
Sending my people out to gather stories and make a series of tales and songs to give people hope and to try and gather clues for any "mundane" way to fight the cold.

Rauri
Jan 13, 2008




Larissa
Thaisaidain

"Enough!" Larissa bellowed, clearly enraged by her slippery foe. Every second she spent not-victorious made her look weaker - he'd already managed to force her out of the shadows, having proved more adept at manipulating them. Perhaps she'd miscalculated...

No! It was time to rip out his heart and devour the blackened thing. He may be more experienced than she is, but that meant he was an old fart. No way could he hope to match her physically, not with her relative youth and divinity.

New plan decided upon, the Vampire Queen launched herself at her foe, determined to shred him to ribbons.

----

Larissa is Flipping Out, but also spending AP to boost her defense. Previous round of combat damaged her Darkness [+2].

Attacking / defending with
Undead [+6] - Celerity, Potence, and Fortitude time. The plan is to physically overpower him, to prevent him from hitting and running or using irritating little spells. Using every trick she knows to move fast and stay in close.
New At This [-2] - This is the first time she's fought someone this powerful, and she's not entirely used to divine combat yet.

Using 1 AP (13/16)

TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011
Amaguq, Cold as Ice

Amaguq reels from the cold pervading his soul, sapping his Divine essence. He knew the Cold was powerful, but this he was unprepared for. Returning to his senses, he greedily devours the meal that the Goddess had prepared for him, and he gratefully receives the drink she proffers.

BRR!

Puppies are dicks posted:

Hypothetically if you failed a roll terribly and it succeeded in dealing 5 ranks of damage (-10)...

Yeah, hypothetically.

I'll spend 3 AP to reduce the 5 Ranks of damage to 2 Ranks, and I will eat the final prepared meal to warm up and reduce the damage by one further Rank, leaving only on Rank of damage. This damage will, appropriately, go to Inbetween All Worlds (now [+0]). Amaguq will not be traveling fast or far anytime soon -- unless, of course Parelle's magic firewater exceeds his expectations and restores him to full potency. Keeping Trickster and Everything New Under the Sun at full strength, because I just might be needing them in the very near future...


After he finishes the meal, he responds to the Goddess kneeling solicitously at his side. "This is what I heard, what the wind brought to my ears…

The last remnants of the Kingdoms and Empires of Men are dying, even in the farthest South. And their Gods are likely not far behind them on the path to oblivion. Power struggles have erupted in the lands of the Undying. As the Cold threatens even those without breath, they prepare to strike against the living to gain whatever small measure of power they can against the Cold. Things from Underneath are waking from their eternal slumber, and the Gods of the Waters Beyond the Sun's Reach move as if they are being herded by Sedna, fleeing ever South before the ice.

"And then, I heard…" Recalling what he saw of the Old One, Amaguq realizes that he himself is not the only one who has kept his nature hidden. Keeping his features neutral, he continues, "And then I heard the cold Wind howling. It is everywhere. It is stronger than any of us -- indeed, stronger than all of us. But you knew this already, did you not, Old One?" he concludes as he turns to the other God. And then Amaguq sits quietly, waiting for Parelle's response to his revelation, and listening to what the Old One says -- and perhaps more importantly, what he does not say.

Trickster Spirit [+4] with 2 AP to try to divine from the Old One's conversation and body language (and any history I have with him) just what his domains are. Does he have any connection to the Ice, or was the timing of my looking at him and the Cold striking merely a coincidence (yeah, right)? Did he violently consume all those souls that I saw within him? Just how hosed are Parelle and I if he decides to eat us too?

Incidentally, do I have any kind of feeling for how strong [+?] the Ice was that I was up against? Based on how badly I failed (despite being at +8), I can wager a guess, but quantifying it in game mechanical terms would be helpful. Also, did it come from any particular place? I suspect the Old One, of course, but even if that's not right, the direction of the Wind could perhaps tell me something.


AP: 10/16

TychoBrahesNose fucked around with this message at 07:49 on Nov 26, 2014

OscarDiggs
Jun 1, 2011

Those sure are words on pages which are given in a sequential order!
Deep Beneath - Piper, Father Of The Scurrying
15/16

Piper howled and writhed against the beast, biting and clawing and whipping the thing with his tail in a mad rush for victory. It wasn't until warm blood splattered tunnel walls that Piper knew he was victorious. A cacophonous squeaking went up in joyous triumph as Piper savoured the kill, the first of many.

“Meal enough, but small...” Piper thought as he finished his celebrations. Taking the first bite of the beast as both a trophy and to sate his rising hunger, Piper began to drag the thing to the tunnels of his children. It would not be much, but even the greatest of piles began with collecting the meagre remains of anything useful. Piper and his children were going to need a mighty pile before they braved traveling through the dark.

Let's bring whatever is left of the Deep Dweller to where the children are currently hiding out. Maybe there's a bit of food left on it for them, but if not at least I'm going to be there with them for the moment. In case it does require a roll, I think +2 Deep Pits and Dark Tunnels, +2 Survival by any means and +2 Scavengers cunning should apply. Since I might be hauling a carcass, -2 FOOD! might count in an attempt to not just consume the leftovers.

OscarDiggs fucked around with this message at 14:35 on Nov 26, 2014

Deadmeat5150
Nov 21, 2005

OLD MAN YELLS AT CLAN
Warlord Bismark von Trippletrow, The Blight of Suffering, Savior of Pain, The Smugfather

14/16 AP

The feeling was... intoxicating. A rush of warmth and passion like Bismark had not felt in a very long time. He had no idea his divine posterior could infuse an object with such purpose. Bismark hadn't done a thing, really, the change the throne. He had simply awakened what was already there and given it a new direction. He eased himself back onto the cool black marble of throne, marveling at the way it shifted and stretched on its own to seem larger. It knew him well.

"WILHELM," he thundered. "GET OVER HERE."

A map would be constructed here in this holy place. Massive and sprawling, much like his Empire, it would spread before him with as much detail as could be accomplished by mortal hands, and then more would be added by his divine grace. A lesser god would have flexed some muscle and created the map from the æther alone, but the Warlord knew that people felt the happiest when they knew they were needed. His cities were ripe with incredible craftsmen and they would now be pressed into making his map. Redsmiths would be commissioned to cast figures for the map that represented his armies, his people, and a box if other things that could be needed, such as bronze tokens to represent food store or tiny bearded goblins to represent those horrid Dwarves. From his Seat he would be able to keep track of his empire and what he didn't notice the vast network of bureaucracies, functionaries, spies, guards, thieves and all others who worked for the Empire whether they knew it or not would be able to gather. And it would all be represented here, in bronze and wood and a sprinkle of divine grace.

Ok you get all that? 3D map, constantly update by the empire dudes as well as my own scrying. Not doing a godly action, just a wave of magic dust or whatever minor input of power to make the map seem more real when it's finished. You know, tiny trees and stuff.

Puppies are dicks
Jan 31, 2011

WHY YOU GOTTA BREAK A BROS HEART
Amaguq, the Lone Hunter & Parelle

"Fool! What use is your head if you only use it for catching cold!"

The Old God hissed in anger and surprise as the Ice trickled from Amaguq, tinkling against the ground as he consumed the last of the meal and expended a portion of his divine power to warm himself further. The humble campfire began to flicker and dim. The Old God knelt alongside Parelle, holding the wolf firmly in massive hands formed of the earth which prized his jaws open.

"Don't touch him where the Ice has, girl. Pour it straight down his throat but be ready to flee if he bursts."

The Trickster struggled briefly against the Old One's bonds. This felt familiar somehow, and he took advantage of the time he bought by the struggle to crane himself around and gauge the breadth and form of the other's power. It was by comparison to him and Parelle, old and hungry and massive. His memory twinges at him again, some sense of panic or ancient fear giving him the impression that being crushed or swallowed by the Hungry Earth is a fate nearly inevitable should he face the Old God in direct combat.

Parelle's ministrations proved successful, and following a lack of icy wolf-based explosions the heavy hands of earth released him. The Old God sat back and prodded at the dwindling campfire, sighing.

"Of course I know. Haven't I been warning you all along? The Ice is no singular thing, and waxes and wanes as it grows and follows its own logic. It will be the death of us all. I do not have the power to stop it, nor has any combination of Gods I've seen thus far. They pushed, and the Ice pushed back. They flee, and still the Ice finds them."

Mechanically this is a Heal action/spell by Parelle, aided by ???. Target difficulty is max ranks of damage being mitigated, so chowing down and burning AP makes this much easier to do. And in fact Parelle's roll is a success! Temporary cold damage to the Trickster has been healed!

Trickster attempts a sense domain/background check against ??? Roll is partial success! The Old God's primary Domain is Hungry Earth, and given his age and what's slowly coming back to you he's a lot bigger with more AP to burn. If it comes to a fight and everybody went all in it's almost a guarantee that either you or Parelle will die. Furthermore you've discovered that there's some sort of mind-effecting spell going on right now, probably related to the god's identity. The name and face of this God keeps slipping away the harder you try to grasp it.


Beneath - Piper, Father Of The Scurrying

Piper dragged the much larger carcass of the Dweller upwards, leaving the Deep behind to whatever dire omens he'd never managed to identify and understand anyway in lieu of feeding his children a fresh supply of hot meat. Furred snouts raised in alarm at his approach, but sensing his mood and scenting no danger alarm turned to shrill cries of joy and welcome. The Piper was home and he had brought meat!

The Scurrying swarmed across the Deep Dweller, ripping and tearing at its flesh with tooth and claw until even its bones had been cracked for their sweet marrow and nothing was left. They rustled, warm and well fed in contentment and through his bond with them Piper could feel the swelling of strength and vitality among them as they dozed amidst the empty shards of bone.

Deep Dweller had no free AP! But he is full of delicious meats and vital nutrients, and having consumed him the Scurrying have increased in strength! They are now collectively more resistant to harm, better adapted to life Beneath, and the next time an existential threat (i.e. starvation or disease) faces their race this vitality will protect them!

Warlord Bismark von Trippletrow, The Blight of Suffering, Savior of Pain, The Smugfather

Bismark watched in satisfied fascination as the legions of mortal craftsmen and cartographers hustled to create the mighty map. It would take time, for each shade of jade to depict the Empire's many forests and grasslands, with white silver melted across them for the coming of the Ice required the constant efforts of an array of artisans and suppliers but the task would be done by mortal hands alone in mortal time. An accomplishment to be sure.

"Y-yes Holiness! I am here. The legions are already in motion, supply trains are already following behind the vanguard we have sent ahead with shovels and engineer corps have already finalized plans to evacuate the mountain tribes. We expect a full evacuation of the survivors in good order."

Isath, Northern Wastes, Icestorm

Light scattered against the heavy clouds and sleet overhead, and Isath listened patiently for their echo. The Icestorm was a strong one, weaker than it was for the moment but would soon build in strength to match its own. It was merely one storm and after it grew in strength would move onwards further south, perhaps to be diminished by the passage. But something else rattled and echoed in the wind, at the edges of the storm that it could not quite place or name, holding a steady position on the outskirts of the Icestorm where the cold was weakest.

ISATH (+8) casts a spell, Storm Sense! Roll success! The Icestorm currently enveloping Isath's location within the Northern Wastes is of +6 strength, and will increase to +8 before moving on/reducing in difficulty in another scene. Strangely enough, other sounds have been detected at the edges of the storm which remain consistently at those edges regardless of the Storm's strength or movements.

Larissa - Thaisaidain

Muruk fled before Larissa's superior strength and speed, luring her through the throne room towards a series of obsidian skull encrusted pillars. He perched alongside one as she swung, missed and caught her breath.

"Now! Just like we planned, we'll drain her dry and take her power for ourselves!"

He shouted, looking behind her at the nobles who had followed the combatants at a safe distance away. Had Larissa blood or a beating heart it would have stilled in the long moment of silence and anticipation which followed. She was young and inexperienced but she was angry and the power of her divinity burned hot as she blurred forward, knocking him from the pillar with a mighty punch. Slowly she deliberately turned to face the crowd, meeting the eyes of the other Vampire Lords too brazen to turn their gaze. Many made signs of placation or warding while others watched Muruk's still moving fallen form some distance away.

LARISSA Attacks, Flipping out +2 Attack/-2 Defense! 1 AP spent on Defense!
MURUK chooses not to Attack, attempting a social attack against the crowd: Appeal to Inhumanity!
Larissa Attacks/Muruk Defends, Muruk failure! 1 rank of damage dealt, Muruk reduced to +2 Vampire Priest!
Muruk social attack failure!


Wallastra

Koncreet, a simple word for such a versatile substance. Indeed, in the earlier age in which it had been invented the widespread use of it would have caused economic and social upheavals. No doubt there would have been unemployment and financial upsets among the city's elite, which would have led to . But now in a time of emergency Wallastra cared little for such things, which due to the Ice were a moot point anyway.

The Koncreet was poured, although thankfully he remembered that the substance settled irregularly in the cold and had production done indoors. Soon the city's walls were, while not fully defensible at least whole.

Action to repair city walls, success! It's a big city and there's nowhere enough people to man it properly/as can stay warm in the circumstances but at least the buggering great big holes are patched and people can't just wander in freely and unnoticed.

Ascalon - Aesculus

Aesculus' priests hurried about their tasks, intent on fulfilling the orders of their God in the fullness of their mortal ability. Aesculus himself though searched his city for the highest and best vantage point, settling on a tower which he'd built in ages past to observe the stars above with his more academically minded siblings. He built a great dish and mechanism along the tower comprised of various sacred materials which channeled and focused the power of the gem.

After days of hammering and effort he wiped his brow and sighed. The +2 Tower of Sight was finally complete. With it he could see father and more reliably than from the gem alone, and better still not have to rely on the wayward and sometimes confusing clockings of a mechanical owl to interpret what was seen through the other end. Already those forge priests best suited to helping him on the project were busy talking amongst themselves, arranging shifts and rotas by which they could oversee the operation of the great device.

If I'm reading this correctly you want to integrate the stone into a physical structure part of your city expressly for the purposes of detecting/remote viewing Icestorms in mind. Item conversion/structure raising roll success!

Central Plains of the Empire - Brother Yak

Brother Yak could have probably done something clever like following the beating pulse of the earth or listening quietly for the lows of lesser-yaks (and their people) in the distance. He could have tried remembering exactly what Sister Yak would have done in this situation, but then he wouldn't have been Brother Yak would he? Propelling himself across the snowscape in bursts of his mighty legs, he flung himself past it all, the empty expanse of ice and death blending together into a single uninteresting blur until he reached his destination that he was pretty sure had people in it anyway. Brother Yak picked himself out of the impact crater and took a deep huff, scenting the warmer air and strong smell of the living in the distance.

There were people here, and herds! And they were still alive, although dying rapidly as the cold came too fast and hard for them to respond properly. This was the same smell he'd smelled before, dying herds, frozen flesh, and a people too frightened and cold to flee. Soon this place would be the same as the one he'd left, empty and cold.

Brother Yak has elected not to arse about with any of that magical searching/sensing business and instead just pick a direction that (probably) has people in it and power-run until he hits a settlement. Yak-run 500k successful!

Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

Malador The Prosecutor
16/16 AP


The King of Devils stands in front of the gate, all too aware of the precariousness of his situation. Not only might the gods there attack him, but he could not even kill a single of their worshippers. The one who mandated the Strictures on him was dead, but they remained. Again he knocked, louder this time. "This is Malador, God of Devils and King of Hell. I seek to speak with Vendruck, the Underlord. By the name of my father who was Jusitce and my mother who was Death, I come without ill intent."

HiKaizer
Feb 2, 2012

Yes!
I finally understand everything there is to know about axes!
Vendruck

14/16 AP

Vendruck's eyes clouded for a moment with a terrible rage, and part of it was directed to himself. But he had to do something now, to save the others. The sappers were ready, he gave the signal and it went through the tunnels. He counted. 1...2...3...4...then just after five he yelled out across the entrance in dwarven; MARQU HAEDEDU; "Brace yourselves!"

At the same time the sappers detonated their charges and began to collapse the caverns and tunnels lying directly between the bulk of Arthak's forces and his captive minor godlings. Arthak, due to his proximity to the dwarves there was spared from the collapse however. A shame, but it gave Vendruck the chance for personal retribution later. The sappers had already fallen back to more secure positions in the tunnels, ready to fight off the survivors.

This was Arthak's folly, he was so used to charging along or across plains that he did not think in three dimensions. The surface was flat, but underneath it the world was not. He would learn this lesson in his final days.

He was temporarily surprised by the presence of Malador, who suddenly found rows of crossbows trained on his position.

"Speak, child of the hells. I have no time for you and you have no claim to my children. Or have you and your kin finally decided to cast aside your pretend treaties and claim the rest of the world below from me? You shall not find me a meek opponent who gives up what is rightfully his."

I believe this is an attack of sorts;
Artifice [+2] for the detonators and charges,
Dwarves [+4] for the use of his sappers in detonating the tunnels below,
Underground [+2] because Vendruck is utilising more than just the approach to Batjullik
+2 AP because I want to punish Arthak and his followers.

Total of +12

Rauri
Jan 13, 2008




Larissa
Thaisaidain

Hah! She had him on the run. Turns out his eternal body wasn't quite, when you smashed him into solid rock a couple times anyways.

"Getting desperate, Muruk? Hahaha!" She waved her hands towards the nobles who were watching her fight. "Need others to try and clean up the mess you're in? I didn't need anyone to come help me." Larissa grinned at him, still incredibly irate but now increasingly confident she'd won. "As if you could've even b-"

Lunging towards his downed form mid-sentence, Larissa was determined to end the fight now, lest any of the nobles start to second-guess their decision to not interfere. If she managed to take him out with a trick he'd employed on her earlier, than good for her.

----
Continuing to Attack / Defend with
Undead [+6] - She's battered him around a fair bit, it should be easy to go in for the kill. She's going to keep up her current strategy, but slightly more restrained (not flipping out) so as to watch out for any last minute trickery.
New At This [-2] - Probably still applies as well. Boo.

If victorious, will drain him for AP.

AP 13/16

Rauri fucked around with this message at 06:11 on Nov 27, 2014

Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

Malador The Prosecutor -
16/16 AP


Malador frowned at that. Almost he reconsidered his offer, but the task he proposed did not need charm or grace. "No claim on your children have I, nor shall I ever. But I cannot fault you for distrust with an army on your doorstep, and pledges broken. But these soldiers are but an honour guard."

"I come here because my honoured father has been taken by the ice. Now, the souls of the dead are bereft of judgement. And Hell has no place for souls not judged worthy of it. And so another judge is needed. But as the situation shows, many gods are unfit for such a position." A gesture was made in the direction of the barbarian's camp. "You count no followers among those who would appear before judgement. And the broken pledges in your history, all have you as the offended party, rather than the offender. And thus I would ask you to take the task of judging the souls, whether to damnation in my kingdom, or to a reward, for which we still need to seek one who would take my brother's place in defense of the souls."

"I understand you feel this is no matter that concerns you, but consider that without judgement, the souls of the dead cannot be given a home, and the likes of Larissa are likely to harsness them, just and unjust alike."

Shogeton fucked around with this message at 12:03 on Nov 27, 2014

OscarDiggs
Jun 1, 2011

Those sure are words on pages which are given in a sequential order!
Beneath - Piper, Father Of The Scurrying
15/16


Absent-mindedly gnawing on a bone, Piper inspected his children; they were (kind of) happy, (sort of) well fed and (maybe) ready for action. In Pipers partially expanded mind, the wheels of cognition were spinning out of control in an attempt to solve a rising dilemma. 'This place is too exposed.'

“What we needs... is a gooder hole...” That was something to focus on at least, before the gears left there stations completely. The caverns were good enough for now, but if more of the deep things rose up Pipers children would be left caught in the open. “Reargh!” He groaned in a rising fear. Nasty things get everywhere here. Maybe barking things, or the Eeeking ones that hurt the ears, or those who put death into good eatings or even' “CAAAATS!” he screamed in blind panic. The mere idea of one of those death machines getting at his children infused Piper with dread. After calming himself and his children down through their mutual connection Piper began to scurry.

He moved around the edges of the caves his children had made a home in, sniffing and pawing and burrowing, searching for something imperceptible. He licked and rubbed and bit and squeaked in an agitation that disturbed his children, ill at ease with what they were feeling from the bond. Still Piper moved, head twitching to and fro as he encircled the caverns. And then they came, first as a trickle and then as a rising tide, the smallest survivors of the Ice had come to Pipers call. Rats and mice, beetles and cockroaches and other nameless things that had survived the journey into the dank deep. And when they came Piper asked each in turn of warmth, safety and food.

I'm going to attempt a scrying action. By calling on the various scavengers and survivors of the deep, I want to find a few good nesting sites or at least one excellent one that the Scurrying can settle down in with relative safety for the foreseeable future. Out of the way enough that we don't get caught by the things coming up, well protected so we can defend against the inevitable incursions, warm with room for expansion. A few sources of uncontested food if possible. Basically everything we could need for a starting settlement.

I see +2 Survival By Any Means, +2 Scavengers Cunning, 2 King Of The Survivors and +2 Deep Pits And Dark Tunnels all being usable for the scrying. I can see how -2 FOOD! could apply but I would argue that it wouldn't given that not only has everyone just eaten a good meal but also, everything being summoned is basically a cousin and we only eat family in emergencies. I will also put 2AP into the scrying to find the best start up home possible.
Ending AP 13/16

Deadmeat5150
Nov 21, 2005

OLD MAN YELLS AT CLAN
Warlord Bismark von Trippletrow, The Blight of Suffering, Savior of Pain, The Smugfather

14/16 AP

"WILHELM," Bismark says, "THE ICE IS COMING, THE EMPIRE MUST STAND STRONG. WE MAY NEED TO LOOK BEYOND OUR BORDERS FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MANY GENERATIONS. THE ICE HAS SWALLOWED PEOPLE, LANDS, AND GODS. IT WILL DEVOUR MY PEOPLE AS WELL, I MUST PROTECT THEM. SEND AMBASSADORS TO THE MORTAL KINGDOMS OF THIS WORLD AND ENTREATY THEIR SECULAR LEADERS TO FORM AN ALLIANCE WITH US UNTIL THIS CRISIS HAS PASSED. OR UNTIL WE ALL LAY DEAD BENEATH THE BLEAK COLD."

Even as he issued his command he was casting his awareness down. The dwarves his people had cast from the mountains had dug deep and the heartblood of the world was hot and full of fire. It might be possible to harness that flame, push it through tunnels already crafted by dwarven hands, and release it around his Empire. but first he must find pockets that lay close to the surface, pockets easily reached.


Using my new +4 Seat of Power along with +2 Eastern Empire and 1 AP to look for pockets of magma close to the surface around the empire. Preferably as close to where I am as possible.

TychoBrahesNose
May 24, 2011
Amaguq, the Lone(?) Hunter

As he continues to recover, Amaguq ponders. If the God of the Hungry Earth had wanted to consume me, he would have done so when I was weakened. Perhaps he is not a threat after all. Perhaps... He continue to reflect on the Old One's words, as well as his experiences since the coming of the Ice, and eventually he gives voice to his thoughts. "Many other Gods attacked the Wall of Ice as it advanced upon them. This was most assuredly courageous, though not particularly wise. The proper way to slay an enemy is not to strike at his spear, but to strike at his heart. If we could find the origin of the Ice, we might succeed where the others have failed. Old One, you know well what Mother-Beneath-Our-Feet has experienced. Perhaps you have knowledge of where she first felt the press of the Ice…?"

He raises his paw to stave off the objection he expects is forthcoming. "Even if you know such a thing, we obviously cannot simply charge off to battle again -- we have all seen how the Cold can kill those arrayed against it, and even threaten those who merely walk through it, whether in body or in spirit. And yet, there are many others who survive. Kingdoms of men and other beings, and their Gods too. Some of those may even possess a modicum of the intelligence we will need. If those of us who remain -- all of us -- band together, we may just be able to stop the encroaching Cold at its source...

"If, as you say, we are all dead anyway, then there is no harm in trying such a desperate gambit."

Can NPCs be part of a Pantheon? Does the Old One have any desire to join in this crazy scheme? Sure, the effort may start small, but why not think big? Maybe if we get ALL the Gods together -- yes, every single one, PC and NPC alike -- we might be able to get somewhere against the Ice. For the record, I'm not actually expecting all (or even most) of the surviving Gods to take us up on the offer, but as a pantheon of one currently (or two, with Parelle), there's nowhere to go but up.

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TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

"Today I will cause problems on purpose"
Wallastra
12/16 AP

The walls have been restored to a more defensible state, the incident at the library has been sorted and the people responsible captured. Where does this leave me now?

Perhaps I can do something about the water issue, dismantling the water wheel was the immediate short term solution, but it would not be prudent of me if I didn't consider a more long term one. The aqueducts at this moment in time are a lost cause, it would be a pointless use of my powers to force the ice to melt if it would just freeze solid again the next day and I cannot afford to send a party to find new fresh water pockets outside the city boundaries, but perhaps we can utilize the ice itself?

Let us test the quality of the water we could get from the ice that has settled in the aqueducts, carve out a chunk, melt it down into water in a cauldron and see if it can be consumed without any illness or malady developing. If it is drinkable, we should be able to address the water problem with supplements of melted ice, and if not perhaps if we boil the water first before we serve it will eliminate any toxins with in the water. It's a tentative solution but it is worth a try.

This should just be a small scale experiment, one that will not require the overreaching use of Voice of the People, but will be simple enough that Does Not Micromanage will not apply, even the the most illiterate beggar can melt some ice in a cauldron I would wager.

I shall pull aside few people to test this theory. We will gather some ice from the outside, melt it in a heated container and taste the water that results. If it is clean enough to drink, we can begin plans for large scale harvesting. If not... Well we might still learn something valuable from the attempt

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