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   The light of dawn has barely broken the horizon, yet the immense city of Insecarno is already humming with activity. "YOU EVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS, KID?!" an older man blares loudly at his companion as they stroll along the streets of the greatest city in the known world. Numerous tall stone buildings jut into the sky, their spires soaring even higher, while their statues gaze imperiously at the assembled masses below. Today is the last day of solar year, and in Insecarno that means it is Mourningtide. If the rest of the city is humming, then Insecarno's Temple District is roaring, as priests of all stripes work to prepare the days sacrifices, while families and loved ones gather to say fond wishes or prayers of farewell to those facing true death this day. The only tears in sight are tears of joy and celebration. Crowds have already begun to wander into the open squares dotting the district, gathering to watch exhibition matches of the local sport; men and women of all walks of life pitting themselves against each other in heavily ritualized contests of strength. The winners of today’s amateur games will be allowed to compete as a team in the city’s professional league, where the seasonal victors are sent to Ki’came’s side and a second life of endless glory. Every man, woman, child, half-breed and ghost seems to have poured out of their homes in anticipation of the day's festivities, and even the widest boulevards are jammed with the weight of millions of eager citizens, hoping to catch a glimpse of the great ritual, still hours away.  On the edge of the Temple District squats a four story rectangular stone building bearing little in the way of embellishment, only a single plaque hanging to the left of its one door with the above sigils etched into its simple wooden shape. The chapter house of the Keepers in Insecarno is somewhat of an oddity, even among the ancient order, having been built for far more forces than it currently houses. The few members of the Order of the Gate who call Insecarno home do not even bunk in the chapter house anymore, having sequestered land near the site of their charge to call their roof. Instead, the chapter house finds itself like a parent’s home after all the children have moved away. The first floor serves as an informal armory for the lesser ranked members, with not much in the way of comfort or organization, while the second floor houses the sleeping quarters of the local members. Lesser ranks are afforded little beyond dormitory bunks, while those of higher rank are given small rooms. The third floor comprises the officers quarters, which has become the de facto war room, and features elaborate maps of Insecarno’s various districts. Many are so old as to seem completely beyond use, but all are notated in a precise hand, diagramming long forgotten warrens and pathways. The fourth floor of the chapter house is an immense library, not nearly as vast as Insecarno’s Grand Library, but far more specialized. You have each recently been handed an encoded message from Commander Gifford’s desk, the highest ranking Lantern in the city, either by a messenger or in your bunk. He requests your presence the morning of Mourningtide as soon as the sun has fully risen, but provides no further details. It is unusual that orders would be given via encoded note, and that irregularity is not lost on any of you. You're all Sergeants of the Lantern, so you outrank the pure rank and file, but you're hardly the brass. Garug, Phyl, Lucilla: As recent transfers, or recruits, to Insecarno’s Order of the Lantern, the Legion of Dusk, you have only arrived in Insecarno perhaps a week ago, tops. You likely have taken dormitory space in the chapter house, and so it is up to you how you answer your commander’s call. Tabitha, Raymond(?), Sam: As locals of Insecarno, you are free to bunk elsewhere if you’ve made arrangements, and free to decide how you show up for your commander’s call. (Just trying to get everyone introduced in game, and in the right place. Us this opportunity to describe yourself, where you come from or whatever. Meeting with Gifford ready for when everyone is in. Rolls in Orokos, PM/Steam/OOC thread for contact, italics or ( ) for OOC in here, “ “ for dialogue.)   - Tabitha Rassman, Hand Maiden of Ki'came, Guide Along The Fabled Red Path (by Doomykins) - Lucilla Flavia Quinta, Cultist of the Real (by RPZip) - Phyl, Automated Soul Repository (by AXE COP) - Raymond Bartos, Walking Time Bomb (by Moriatti) - Sam Joko, Dispatch Specialist (by ProfessorCirno) - Garug the Speaker, Hobgoblin Death Priest (by Shark Mafia)
Mortify fucked around with this message at 23:42 on Apr 24, 2015 |
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Apr 24, 2015 23:29
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 Tabitha Since the stroke of midnight Ki'came's servants have been dancing in the streets, in the temples and above the great pits. Tabitha herself has spent the day threading the hair's breadth between life and death with daring gestures and stunts of acrobat and sharpened blade. Her favorite sleight of hand is to juggle coins and at some point introduce her perfectly sharpened sword to the affair, smiling brightly and paying it no mind while always passing it along at the hilt. The stunt comes to an end as she quietly hands each child a coin and turns, gesturing towards an offering cauldron for La'cane. As a young boy asks her if she has forgotten something she shrugs... and takes a half-step to the side, shifting her hips up. Her sword lands in the sheath and she bows to the sound of excited clapping and gasps. Maintaining a fast since yesterday and entertaining until the sun has risen high, Tabitha returns to the chapter house. A tiny Halfling girl in festive paint and red-black outfit frayed with the white dusts of the temples dashes up to a private room on the second floor, nursing a sweet treat from a street vendor. Her door closes and elaborate rituals of grooming take place quickly, a freshly-painted and fed dancer popping back out with a spring in her step! She skips down the halls and arrives a few minutes early, passing her Commander's door to the left, then to the right, peering in quietly each time. A moment later she safely does a three-rotation cartwheel into the room and bounces up into a twirling pirouette. She lands in a gentleman's bow with one arm across her chest and the other held out to the side, ever the dashing and punctual soldier. She stands up straight and gives the Commander and anyone else a closed-eye beaming smile. She is so happy on Mourningtide that she could burst! Doomykins fucked around with this message at 04:23 on Apr 25, 2015 |
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Apr 25, 2015 01:31
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Lucilla Flavia Quinta Lucilla stands by the window in her small, cramped room, watching the festivities below her window with a faintly distasteful expression. She'd heard about the way Insecarno celebrated the Janisnalia, but hearing about it and seeing it was a wholly different experience. She leaned out a window and watched as a small group of people actually danced through the streets, bouncing to the beats of a rhythm she couldn't make out, and shook her head as she closed the shutters behind her. It fit with the backwards ways of the entire city, she supposed; celebrate the death of a year, rather than the birth of a new one. It was still strange to see people celebrating instead of solemn on what had always been a quiet, contemplative day in Tiren. She drew her cloak around her back, cinching it in place as she strapped on her armor. Did celebrating Janisnalia - er, Mourningtide - like this mean that they were solemn the next day, in a strange inversion of the customs she was used to? She could accept that, she supposed, but somehow it seemed more likely that they just kept celebrating. She'd have to make sure that nobody had been tugging her hair about the whole "sacrificing the winning team" thing, too. Although it'd at least guarantee that the sport never really ossified into the same matches, year after year... Lucilla grabbed her flamebottle off the small nightstand where she'd left it, placing it carefully in a pouch, and strode out the door of her room. In the doorway she paused, frowning, and then after a long moment the reassuring weight of her sword settled into the scabbard at her back. She flexed her shoulders, making sure it was seated properly, before closing the door behind her. At least some things were real, even in this strange city. Lucilla headed up the stairs to the Commander's room, giving him a well-practiced salute, before finding someplace quiet to sit. Janisnalia, because I'm a huge nerd, is a combination of the feast of Janus at the start of a New Year and the Roman Saturnalia. There's a day of quiet, solemn remembrance of the year, and then after midnight things go a little crazy with celebration, and people swapping places; masters serve their slaves, children boss around parents, that sort of thing. RPZip fucked around with this message at 18:59 on Apr 25, 2015 |
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Apr 25, 2015 09:10
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Sam Joko Sam kept to his own modest apartment for most of the morning. Not just to get ready for the day, though he tended to take his breakfasts seriously and it took a decent amount o time to ensure all his gear was cleaned and ready, but for the same reason he was covering his symbol to King of Endings; this was Ki’came's celebration, and while none would shun the other twin god, few enjoyed La'came's teachings of ensuring a proper end to things on the day they paraded around their undeath. Which isn't to say the whole day would be spend in quiet and serious prayer; just that he had to make sure he was ready to blaspheme just slightly in order to enjoy the processions. And to mentally ready himself for all the ghosts. Oh, the ghosts. He didn't hate ghosts. Most were decent sorts, if obviously living against Ki'came's advice. He had just spent too long learning how and why to kill them. Now whenever he saw one of the specters, his first several thoughts were all business. Still, on the note of business, he had some to attend to. The encoded paper was an oddity he wanted to learn more about, and so it was, after a very vigorous breakfast, he found himself striding towards HQ, sword in sheath, and variety of other tools tucked in their proper places. Maybe the quiet if cheery halfling would be there; she seemed fun, if a bit overly interested in the King of Endings' more mortal practices.
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Apr 25, 2015 16:11
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Phyl It is the dead of night in Insecarno. The sun's rise is a distant promise, yet the streets are already alive with activity, and the sound of revellers preparing for the day's celebrations fills every corner of the city. Wander over to the edge of Temple District, pushing your way through the crowds, and find yourself in front of the Keeper's chapter house, and you'll already notice things are getting a little quieter. Once you enter the doors proper the sound will soon fade away. The gentle crackling of torches and the noise of passing crowds are the only things that filter through the walls, and as you pass through the corridors and begin to head up the stairs, even those muffled sounds will disappear. Wind your way up the stone steps, past the sleeping quarters and the officer's rooms and into the library, and you'll hear nothing but silence. Well, that's not quite true. A gentle light glows in the corner of the library, illuminating huge piles of books stacked with geometric precision in exact size order. From somewhere near the centre of these literary hoodoos comes a gentle ticking - almost like a clock, but not quite on the second - and the rustle of paper. A leather-bound book sits open in the palm of a huge brass hand, where two beams of light scan the text within. Every few moments - far faster than you'd think anyone could comprehend the words - two great metal fingers delicately grasp the paper and flip to the next page. Within a couple of minutes the end of the book has arrived, and with a gentle thump the volume finds its proper place in the surrounding piles, and another has been taken up. It had been an enjoyable night for Phyl. His self-winding mechanism had finished its cycle several hours before he was expected at the Commander's desk, which had provided a prime opportunity to explore the chapter house's library for useful knowledge. To his delight, the books had detailed many useful techniques for slaying the monstrous undead. He loved the living and he hated the undead. Therefore, learning more about how to defeat them - although he came fully equipped with a wide knowledge of many useful subjects for your undead-hunting business - gave him great pleasure. So far he had scanned 374 useful texts and dissertations on the subject, and he anticipated even more knowledge ahead. Something within him goes clunk as it turns over, and he notes the faint glow coming through the library windows. The night was over, and it was time to meet the commander. His lanterns turn off with a click, and he slides his current book back into the pile with a sense of regret, although it is immediately replaced with the glow of pride. He was completing his required duties as Sergeant of the Lantern in a punctual and responsible manner. There would be time for pleasure in the future, in an appropriate time slot. Phyl enters the commander's room with a gentle whirr, halting before the commander's desk and giving a millimetre-perfect salute. "Reporting for duty, Commander living of unidentified race," he intones in a pleasant baritone, before stepping to the side of the room and standing perfectly still. AXE COP fucked around with this message at 17:03 on Apr 25, 2015 |
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Apr 25, 2015 16:51
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Garug Garug was reading in the chapter-house’s library when the messenger came to find him. The Kalac Tribe had long known of the City-Dwellers’ ‘writing,’ and even used it on occasion for record-keeping, but few of the tribe were literate. Fortunately that included him, but until now he had had little opportunity to practice. And the markings of the script were as widely varied as the sounds they represented. He heard the man clear his throat, but he was engrossed in deciphering a particularly complex word, and didn’t immediately look up. Nec..ro… Necro meant death. Something to do with death. Necro…what? He squinted at the word in the flickering candlelight. “Sergeant?” “Necrophilia,” Garug said, raising his eyes to look at the messenger. “Pardon?” “Nec-ro-phi-li-a.” He had heard that he spoke the City’s tongue with something of a heavy accent, so he carefully sounded out the unfamiliar word. “Is that how it is pronounced? What does it mean?” The messenger looked uncomfortable. “Necrophilia? It… Well… It’s… It’s being a little overfond of… of dead things. Distressingly common in the city here, sir.” “There is nothing wrong with fondness for death, Private. Our mission here should make that clear.” Looking even more stricken, the man shook his head. “No, you don’t understand, sir. Not death, the dead. Ghosts and things. And by fond I mean, they’d like to have a go at them. Romantically.” Seeing the comprehension and growing disgust on Garug’s face, he nodded knowingly. “I’m from Tiren myself. Can hardly stand the fuss people here make over the undead.” Garug shut the book. This city, greh. The sooner he accomplished his mission, the better. “Enough reading for today, I think. Did you have a message for me, Private?” The man straightened up, clearly relieved to be off the subject. “Yes, Sergeant. A notice from the Commander of the Lanterns.” He pulled a note from his pocket, placed it on the table, and left. Garug read the message, quickly deciphering the code. Ah! His presence had been requested in the Commander’s office at sunrise of Mourningtide, which he had gathered was some sort of celebration the City held on this date. The library was quiet, but he had heard faint murmurs of revelry outside all through the night. Sunrise wouldn’t be long. Garug heaved himself up from the table and left the library, noticing another sergeant he recognized, the strange mechanical man, leaving as well. He went to his bunk and collected his weapons and armor, and then went straight to the commander’s office, arriving precisely on time. This mission was clearly important, and punctuality in all things was in his blood as a Kalac. He marched in before the desk and stood at attention, ignoring the antics of some of the other sergeants present. Shark Mafia fucked around with this message at 19:15 on Apr 25, 2015 |
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Apr 25, 2015 18:47
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Raymond Oh good, Mourningtide. Raymond sighed, he had given up his own house to his estranged family a few years ago, choosing instead to live in the Order's local chapterhouse, locking himself away each night, just in case that was the night it happened. So he awoke earlier then usual in his self-enforced cell, removed the symbol of Ki'came from his chest and sat-up, looking at the door. Normally he would wake just a half-hour before being met by a Lantern grunt with the key to his cell. However, the crowd out on the street had awoken him quite a bit earlier then previously expected, as many had begun their celebration late in the evening, and had yet to return to bed. So Ray sighed, and begun to practice disarms and strikes he would use in combat. Before his death, when he was among, he found that making these things routine had spared his need for quick reactions, and helped when his reactions slowed. Now, as a rapidly turning member of the undead, he found that the routine helped keep him calm, and that helped keep the beast at bay. He also found it gave him time to work on non-lethal strikes, since blood and death were like an appetiser and aphrodisiac to the thing he would become... The thing he was becoming... A cheer from the crowd on the street reminded him that it was Mourningtide, and he though upon that holiday. It must be a fun time for the young or those with family, you watch some games, engage with the procession, met many new people over the ritual sacrifice... Truth be told, Ray was never sad that any given Mourningtide might be his last Mourningtide. After an hour or two, a young, skinny man (though only barely qualifying for that word,) sheepishly entered the room, his armour and voice clattering nervously. "Sear... Seargent Bartos, sir?" The nervous soldier asked. Ray smiled, it was Aimsely. Aimsely was a good kid, even if he was something of a keener. The boy still hadn't gotten used to the idea of letting a Seargent out of his cell in the morning. "You're early, Aimsely." Ray's voice was deep and cracked. "The captain said you wake up early on Mourningtide..." Keener. Good kid though. "That'll do then, do you have the key?" Aimsely started to produce the key before halting himself. "First recite the Order Pledge, sir." Good, the recital was key. When Ray transformed, he might be a devious creature. His actions might seem normal, but he would be dead, a beast wearing his skin and playing with his familiarities. But such a creature would be hard-pressed to keep composure during the pledge. Ray did, of course know the pledge, and was, of course, freed. Now, to meet with the Captain about that coded message...
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Apr 25, 2015 21:09
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 Looking up from his desk at each in turn, Commander Gifford takes in his assembled sergeants with the kind of searching look that only old soldiers develop. You have the sensation of being measured and categorized down to your last detail. He stands up slowly, his advanced age finally starting to take its toll. Still, he manages to cut a pretty impressive figure for a man of 120 years. Adjusting his belt slightly he greets everyone with a voice as steady as good oak, “Sergeants, thank you for accepting my summons. I apologize for the nature of the call, but I assure you it was necessary,” with an offhanded motion he triggers a small clockwork device upon his desk and a feeling of peace washes over you as a faint hum fills your ears, just on the edge of hearing. “Now that we’re warded, I’ll cut to the chase. First, you’re all promoted to Staff Sergeant, and I’m afraid you’ll have to suspend your normal duties, at least for the time being. You’ll be working together as a group to investigate a matter that I can’t trust with any other Lanterns.” He looks at the locals, “Sam, Raymond, Tabitha; your loyalty to the Lantern is unquestioned,” before turning to the others, “Phyl, Lucilla, Garug; you’re all too new in Insecarno to have fallen in with any unsavory types yet. I hope your dedication to our cause is as strong as I believe.” “I’ve been receiving scattered reports of a cult worshipping the monstrous dead, and possibly forcing the change upon them more quickly than normal. I don’t have to tell you all what kind of problem that could create, especially if left unchecked. I also believe that one of the other Keepers here, either a Lantern or a Coin, is a traitor, and is tipping the cult off. The cult has done a good job covering its tracks, and seems to always have scrubbed their safe houses before I can get men there. We’re probably operating with a severe leak, but I can’t just line everyone up to ferret the traitor out with our other duties. Keep your eyes open for clues on that front, but it’s not a top priority for you. Dismantling that cult is.” “With the Mourningtide today, a lot of the city will be tied up in the revel, and you should have a bit less pushback if you don’t draw attention to yourselves. I’m giving you all the leeway to get this handled however you see fit. I realize you’re bound to have differences in the application of force, and personal backgrounds. That’s all fine and well, but the monstrous dead are possibly festering in this city and as Lanterns that’s our job. Duty first and foremost, as old Commander Hendel said. Good chap, you’d have liked him.” The Commander takes an unmarked envelope from his desk and slides it across the table, “Inside you’ll find a few details I've jotted down about what we know. Hopefully it’ll get you started in the right direction. If you have any questions, the ward has a few more minutes, but if it remains up much longer it will attract attention. If not, best be off and get this behind us.” --- The envelope contains a few papers, each written in a messy hand, with numerous passages that have been scratched out and notes filling the margins. After reading and rereading it, three things stand out: 1. a trader named Emerin who doesn’t seem to sell much of anything, 2. a private named Vershal who is always late, 3. and an alarming number of minor undead coming from the sewers near the old Trade commons. (It's plain that he believes the details are enough to start your hunt. If you have further questions, ask away!)
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Apr 26, 2015 05:56
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Tabitha Tabitha receives news of the promotion with excited, quiet clapping. As Gifford details the looming threat she slowly raises her palms to the side of her head, eyes wide with concern. Her arms drop back to her sides once the task is outlined and with the call to duty she salutes the commander. At the mention of Hendel she nods once and draws a cross across her chest with pinched index finger and thumb, each gesture a wide curve. As the note is handed over Tabitha pops up in the gap between Gifford and the intended tall recipient and graciously accepts. She reads it over closely for a minute then whirls around, mouth opening in a dramatic inhale, finger raised to issue commands. After two beats for comedic emphasis she blushes a little and shows the note to the others. She taps the name Emerin and points to herself, then to Sam and... she pauses and looks around. She studies Lucilla's face closely, blushes and points to her. Then she points to Vershal's name. She sweeps a hand to indicate Phyl, Ray and Garug. Leaving the sewer for last she passes the note off to someone and gestures to the Emerin team with her left hand, the Vershal team with her right hand. Then she laces her fingers together and smiles at everybody. After another beat she holds up two fingers and taps the side of her head. (My two cents is that we split for a face team for the merchant, some scared straight bad cops for the private and we tackle the sewers together.) Doomykins fucked around with this message at 14:34 on Apr 26, 2015 |
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Apr 26, 2015 14:31
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Ray felt sick to his stomach. People were INTENTIONALLY causing early metamorphosis? Did they know what that was like? Did they know what they were doing? He was also curious why he wasn't under greater suspicion. After all, wasn't he the end result of these cultists' plans? But here he was, among the trusted elite tasked to stop this nefarious deed. Something seemed off about that. He did, however, agree with Tabitha, a force this big should tackle this problem from every possible angle. "Sir, has Vershal reported in this morning?"
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Apr 26, 2015 15:25
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Garug Garug grinned. A week in the City, and already a staff sergeant, receiving classified missions from the commander? He was gratified to have made a positive impression, although of course such confidence was completely justified. In Garug's view, any person who would forsake life and death to ally themselves with abominations deserved only a crushed skull and a flayed soul. And there was no more vile and reprehensible creature than the traitor. Garug would enjoy dealing with this 'Vershal.' He nodded assent to the odd painted halfling's plan. "I do not think that this will take very long. Shall we meet the three of you at the Trade commons at noon, to proceed with the more direct approach?" Team Scary is gonna make this guy spill his guts in seconds flat Shark Mafia fucked around with this message at 17:16 on Apr 26, 2015 |
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Apr 26, 2015 17:13
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 In reply to Ray's question, Gifford gives a solemn shake of his head, "He has not, and he was not seen in the chapter house last night. You might start with the other privates, one of them might know where he goes."
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Apr 26, 2015 20:19
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Of course he's gone missing, and if the commander's taken notice of him... They may even be too late. Still, they had to try and find him. "Very well sir, with your permission, I'll begin my task." Ray wanted to ask the commander why he was trusted, but time was of the essence, if Vershal was still missing after so long, it couldn't be a good sign. Thankfully, Ray's nightly confinement had given him a chance to make some friends among the lower ranks, so he had a pretty good idea of where to start. "Where is private Aimsely stationed around this time?"
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Apr 26, 2015 20:42
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Lucilla Flavia Quinta Lucilla reaches for the orders in painted mima's hands with a neutral expression, internally stamping down hard on a strangely flustered feeling, and reads through the sparse notes. It should have been more shocking, but after all of the Mourningtide strangeness a cult to the undead seemed a natural progression for this strange, bizarre city. At least they'd be able to do something about it. And Staff Sergeant to boot. Because a leak wouldn't find anything strange in the elevation of six sergeants simultaneously as they started looking into his presumed organization. She grimaced slightly and folded the orders neatly, slipping the notes about the merchant into her pocket to examine more closely as they went. "Understood, sir. How should we report the results of our investigation into this cult? Directly to you, or through the normal channels where they may be intercepted?" Roman fact of the day (this will go on for a while): sannio's were a type of painted mime clowns known for expressive body and facial language.
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Apr 26, 2015 23:17
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Phyl Phyl chugs gently, his face expressionless as he gazes at Tabitha's dance. Then again, he was always expressionless. His parents - he feels a twinge of internal conflict at the term, although he couldn't analyse why - hadn't chosen to give him a face that could move. He was quite an early model and the budget hadn't quite been there. Phyl had no particular objection to this - being able to make faces wouldn't be very useful for his owners, after all, and the feculent undead would not care - but he did wish on occasion that he had eyebrows to raise. This was one such occasion. Being able to express polite, non-verbal confusion at the painted unidentified race's antics would be nice. Instead, he would have to express polite verbal confusion at her methods of communication. "I would like to express polite confusion at your methods of communication, Staff Sergeant Tabitha," he rumbles. "However, I have spent 2.173 seconds in analysis of your plan, and I have found no major flaws. Staff Sergeant Garug, Staff Sergeant Raymond Bartos and myself, Staff Sergeant 2-Phylactery/Automatic Collector, will do our duty." Something inside him begins ticking with new intensity. If he had eyebrows, they would tighten. "I am very happy to be assigned the task of apprehending this vile traitor who would assist the monstrous dead over the living." If you happened to lay a palm on one of his smooth brass surfaces, you would feel him vibrating. Anticipation, or simply the movement of machinery?
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Apr 27, 2015 18:23
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To Ray: "Aimsley?" Gifford consults a duty roster briefly, "He and two other privates were sent to investigate a disturbance at a warehouse. Reports of wails or some such. Could be kids having a laugh, but best to play it safe," he gives the address from the duty sheet, "Vershal would have been on that duty if he'd shown up." To Lucilla: "Very perceptive, Sergeant." Gifford says with a chuckle, "I expect this little mass promotion will cause an uproar with the traitor. Six sergeants being given special investigator ranks so suddenly is sure to start a ruckus. He'll go to ground, but that's just our opportunity to corner him. If you have details you can't act upon hand them directly to me. Not my aide, not by coded message. Into my hands." (Commander not reading thoughts, just using the power of DM to guess your train of thought. Moving us forward when I get home tonight, if you have objections to the party split plan make it known before I move everyone towards their scenes.) Mortify fucked around with this message at 20:00 on Apr 27, 2015 |
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Apr 27, 2015 18:56
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Garug Having no particular friends among the lower ranks as yet, Garug decided to try a more general approach. "Staff Sergeant Bartos, I will catch up to you at the warehouse." He turned and walked out, saluting the Commander, and headed for the privates' dormitories. Marching in through the door, he drew a deep breath. "ATTEN-TION!" The privates still in the dormitory snapped to, or at least looked up at the ringing shout. Many from the night shift, having just retired for the day, were jolted from sleep. They staggered out of bed, grumbling. "Superior officer present, Privates! Today you have an opportunity to serve the Lanterns, and your city!" Garug glowered around at the general scramble. Such pitiful lack of discipline. "You may also prove yourselves to be worthless layabouts. The choice is yours! Now!" He pointed at the empty bunk marked 'Vershal.' "Who among you has seen Private Vershal recently? Where and when? Have you spoken to the private? What did he say?" "Any information you can grant me will be of great use, to an ongoing operation of utmost importance!" Garug crossed his arms and waited. Oh, welp. If you'd prefer I just go with raymond without stopping off here, that's fine too Shark Mafia fucked around with this message at 07:48 on Apr 28, 2015 |
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Apr 27, 2015 19:20
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Garug: At the hobgoblin’s very insistent yelling, the privates form up loosely, doing their best to look polished despite many having been arisen from recent slumber. One of the more conscious ones barks, “Sergeant, sir, uh, Private Vershal should be here. He, uh, had Last Watch the night before last and knocked off after duty to visit a pub. Uh, Knife & Slab, o’er near the merchants’ commons,” he finishes in a rush. Another private, looking much worse for wear nods, and adds, “He’s been drinking at that pub almost every night for a month.” Unfortunately, that seems to be the limit of everyone’s recollection, and those two privates have no more to tell of any conversations than idle chatter between soldiers, but they do manage to give fairly accurate directions to the pub. Though when Raymond and Phyl arrive down in the private’s quarters, Ray is able to piece together than that pub has a suspiciously good view of the very same warehouse Aimsley and crew have been sent to investigate. Phyl, Ray, Garug: The trip to the warehouse is uneventful and sure enough it sits diagonally across a mostly empty street from the Knife & Slab pub. Upon inspection, the pub is closed, and a large sign on the door proclaims “Closed in honor of Mourningtide, wards are up, set to nasty! We reopen tomorrow!” The sign looks a few decades old, and Mourningtide isn’t even written in the customary red, instead being a dull bronze color. Now that the festivities are well and truly started, traffic in this area is sparse, and the few people on the streets are obviously not locals. Likely traders and merchants who have taken up residence in Insecarno. As you enter the warehouse, Garug catches the scent of copper in the air before it hits Ray and Phyl. As Phyl brings up the houselights, the grisly scene is illuminated in all too graphic detail. The center of the room houses a large scrawled circle of obvious magical significance. From a guess, the circle is inked in blood. A pile of bloodied remains rests near a makeshift altar. Crates that would have probably been stacked neatly in the middle have been shoved towards the walls, hastily by the marks on the ground. A few are broken, and a gray grain appears to have spilled in a few places. Nothing immediately jumps out to attack you, so you’re free to investigate!  Tabitha, Sam, Lucilla: Leaving the chapter house at much the same time as the others, you make your way toward the shop the Commander so helpfully gave you an address to. Emerin’s Emporium of Eldritch Effects. Once you’ve escaped the surrounds of the Temple District the crowds start to thin away, and before long you’re well and truly into the Merchant’s Commons. Most shops are closed, but a few stand with open doors, their owners not even out front hawking since business is so unlikely. You pass a number of pubs, likewise closed, which isn’t odd. Most of the custom is going to be further towards the Temple District this day. Before long you pull up in front of a shop with a dainty sign bearing four E’s stacked one on top of another, making a strange zigzag down the wooden length. The door is open, and you all step inside. Though the shop is not big, the shelves lining the walls are all empty. Not a single item adorns any, but they are clean of any dust. A balding man in his midyears looks up from a ledger he is reading with a start, but quickly falls into the routine of any good shopkeeper.  “Greetings and well met, my most favorite customers! What brings you into Emerin’s humble establishment on this, the most glorious of holidays?” by the way he says that, you are clear he isn’t from around here, “Can I interest you in a curio? Or perhaps the beautiful lady,” he positively beams at Lucilla, “would like a charm?” His gaze sweeps the Halfling and he adds, “Or are you looking for something altogether cleverer?” He takes note of Sam, and includes him in the gestures and looks, but it is plain he’s a bit taken aback by the caliber of customer he finds crowding his casual little cache this day. (Everyone should be at the point for some investigating or socializing. For Warehouse crew, you entered either the front or back, no traps, yadda yadda. Just trying to keep us moving.) Mortify fucked around with this message at 03:34 on Apr 28, 2015 |
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Apr 28, 2015 03:22
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Raymond Ray staggers back, he wasn't expecting this.The smell of blood awakened the creature inside him, and he took a moment to subdue it. Something went very wrong here, and he suspected that they won't find any of the poor privates assigned to this mission. Speaking of mission, he did come to investigate. As a member of the order, Ray dabbled in learning some of the particulars of magic, and hoped he'd be able to figure out what the circle was intended to do. [Arcana: 1d20+6 21 I'd also like to know if I see any bodies in or around the circle.]
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Apr 28, 2015 04:11
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Garug Garug advanced past the other sergeants into the room, looking closely at the bloody markings. Something unpleasant had definitely happened here. He gingerly stepped around the sigil, being careful not to touch it or disturb anything, and took in the whole scene. He knew little about this kind of magic besides what to do to those who practiced it, and so would leave investigations of that sort to his companions. He simply looked for physical signs, attempting to reconstruct the scene in his mind, and keeping an eye out particularly for any signs of a struggle or other clues as to the fate of the privates. crime scene investigation (Perception): 1d20+5 9 Shark Mafia fucked around with this message at 05:52 on Apr 28, 2015 |
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Apr 28, 2015 05:50
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Phyl The scene that greets Phyl as he enters the warehouse doesn't give him pause. Few things did. It was important to complete assigned duties in the allocated time, after all. He bends at the waist, one eye emitting a soft whirr as it extends to peer closely at the magical scrawlings on the floor. An opportunity to exercise his knowledge! A warm glow suffuses his gears. He was helping. His path describes a perfect circle, encompassing the decidedly imperfect circle scrawled across the floorboards. He impassively notes the pile of remains; the use of blood in the apparent ritual; whichever other arcane accoutrements may be scattered about the warehouse. The warm glow within him gets a little warmer. There was definitely something afoot. He must analyse what. While ray looks at the circle: what happened with these remains?: 1d20+9 12
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Apr 28, 2015 15:28
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Tabitha Tabitha is focused on their duty despite the festival around them. She only separates from the group to dance and juggle once. Eventually they're clear of the Temple District and she is being called clever! She tilts her head and clasps her hands together at the cheek, looking positively pleased! Then she sets her fists on her hips and makes a show of marching down the sides of the shops, examining the empty shelves seriously. Popping back to the front desk she beams radiantly up at Emerin and extends a raised palm, offering him a piece of candy wrapped in a crimson wax paper. Acquiring the dye begins with harvesting an insect native to the region for it's shells and preparing the candy involves dozens of acolytes working by hand for a week before the festival... but it was all worth it to present the treat with a red-white spiral painted on! Inside is a delicious mix of honey, cocoa and some of the special festival hematogen. She bounces on her heels and spins around, stopping to offer additional pieces to Lucilla and Sam as well! With a second spin to return she leans on the counter, barely tall enough to do so. She sweeps a hand along the store, then points out the door. She points to Emerin and does a little twirl, a smile and a soundless laugh and some clapping. She shrugs. Then she clasps her hands together and leans forward, mouth open a bit as she ever so eagerly waits for his reply. Diplomacy with Words of Friendship: 26
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Apr 28, 2015 20:22
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Lucilla Flavia Quinta Diplomacy in this city was certainly... different. Lucilla looked around the empty shelves, and then back to the merchant while she unwrapped the piece of candy. Maybe some trick, a bending of unreality around real baubles? Or just a scam artist with the Imperator's new robes. "What do you have on offer?" Arcana: 1d20+12 25, looking for any hint of magic in the shelves or store.
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Apr 28, 2015 23:22
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Sam Joko While the halfing does her quiet jig, Sam gives an embarrassed smile and accepts the candy. "Sorry; I'm not with them. I was just hoping to buy something for a girl I'm sweet on. I'm a bit new to this city, and she's a bit...you know. Spectral. Was hoping for something special for the holidays. Anything you think would be good?" Sam's gonna play the part of the customer for a bit, but then he's going to leave and sneak right back in to check the place out. Were there any other entrances he spotted on the way in?
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Apr 29, 2015 22:33
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Raymond: There are no bodies obscuring the lines of the magic circle, nor any inside. Upon closer inspection, you have some insights about the purpose of this circle, and the danger it presents, though its structure is alien to you. It appears to be a corrupted ritual the Undead Servitor, with a likely purpose of raising a corpse. Given what you are able to recall of the meteor's magic, a ritual like this shouldn't function inside the city, so the ultimate purpose remains a mystery. Phyl, Garug: You both are drawn towards the remains, for different reasons, and as you paw through them, shuffling them respectfully, two things immediately stand out to you. None of the mutilated bodies belong to a private of your order, but one of them does belong to an altogether too familiar face: despite all the bruising and lacerations, the lifeless eyes at the bottom of the pile reside in the face of Commander Gifford's corpse. --- Emerin takes in the three, with varying looks of first bewilderment, concern and finally calm. He thanks the halfling for her treat, and addresses her and Lucilla with a sweeping gesture, "Why I sell the finest knickknacks and kits for the studious and the stupendous. My shelves may be absent any material wares, but this is a shop of wonder and wizardry!" He smiles at the halfling woman with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "Tell me what it is you seek, and Emerin will get it. If you aim to steal the sun from the stars, Emerin shall make it so. If your lark is the last living leatherleaf pine of the season, then lady, that's what I have got. For a fee, of course," his smile widens until it almost looks painted on. "As to a special token of love for the holidays, well, Emerin has a a host of baubles for just such an occasion." Pulling the ledger off the counter, he places it carefully underneath, and returns with a simple wooden box. Lucilla, Sam: As Emerin opens the box, you feel something tugging at your mind, and you want very desperately to believe whatever he says or shows you, but... no... you don't. The feeling passes, and when he opens the box you see nothing. Tabitha: When Emerin opens the box, you find yourself looking at the most beautiful ceremonial dagger you've ever seen. This dagger is clearly the stuff of legends; it has probably taken more lives than the last 3 high priests combined. If you had a dagger like this, you'd not only be a person of great import, but you'd be respected all through Insecarno. You should probably touch it. Just a little. Lucillia, Sam: As you continue to look into the empty box, you hear a faint keening noise, like a nail being driven across pavement, from behind Emerin. If you focused on listening, you could probably place it a little better. Emerin seems intent on Tabitha, and is paying you no further attention. (Ready to keep moving scenes forward, probably tomorrow night or Sunday.) Mortify fucked around with this message at 06:15 on May 2, 2015 |
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May 2, 2015 06:12
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((Huh. That's... odd)) Garug Garug recoiled. "Gzarchuk Vos!* What is this?" Some trickery? Or was a commanding officer of the Lanterns one of them? No, that didn't make any sense. If the commander was a traitor, why would he have sent them to this warehouse in the first place? Yet... there was the body. He couldn't get his head around it. He wanted to hit something, preferably a cultist. He looked at the other sergeants present. "Does either of you have an explanation for this? Because if not, I propose that we go into those sewers and crack skulls until things begin making sense. Just allow me to make a closer examination of the body first." examine body- determine specific cause of death, time since death, and whether this appears to be authentically gifford's corpse (heal?): 1d20+5 20 *Goblin; expression meaning 'by my destined death' Shark Mafia fucked around with this message at 08:59 on May 2, 2015 |
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May 2, 2015 08:48
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Tabitha Religion 23 Tabitha sincerely gasps, with audible pitch even. She really can't resist this charming metaphorically bloody trinket. She begins to slowly reach for the dagger to run her fingers along the hilt. Unless... a tenet of the Patron against such undeserved status would make her withdraw. Even her own curiosity and delight must be tempered if La'cane demands it. Doomykins fucked around with this message at 17:09 on May 2, 2015 |
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May 2, 2015 17:07
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Lucilla Flavia Quinta Lucilla winced as the unreality of the compulsion washed over her, finding no solid purchase but banging against her defenses all the same. She nudged the other Sergeant with her foot, nodding towards the sound while making a few quick hand gestures. Judging by his slightly befuddled look she guessed that Tirenese street handslang hadn't quite made its way to Insecarno, but the meaning should be clear enough - check that out while I distract him. Lucilla stepped forward and put a cautionary hand on the painted mima's shoulders, pivoting as she moved so that the merchant would have to turn away from Joko in order to address her, and forced a smile onto her face. "What would you have for a woman who misses the sounds and smells of home?" Bluff: 1d20+11 15
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May 3, 2015 10:34
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Raymond Well that didn't make sense. Maybe the others had worked something out, Raymond turned to talk to his allies. "It's an undead servitor ritual but as you know, that shou- Commander Gifford?!" If the Commander Gifford giving the orders was an imposter... That would explain a few things. Ray shook his head and searched for identification on the other bodies, he needed to find out who was here. [gonna check the pockets for any kind of ID papers/badges/insignia, also I guess mention if they're in uniform? Also a Perception check: 1d20+3 13 for anything unusual while I search.]
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May 3, 2015 13:50
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Phyl Phyl stares at the corpse of the commander for the full seven seconds it took him to process the sight. Something inside him ticks over twice before he straightens up to stride about the warehouse. The dead body was peculiar. He couldn't understand why the others were spending so long looking at the body. They have discovered it. The necessary information had been ascertained. Why dwell? If he was to fulfil his duty he needed to continue his investigation, and that's just what he would do. He takes a handful of the spilled grey gain and lets it run through his great brass fingers, humming gently. What's the deal with warehouse grain?  : 1d20+0 5
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May 5, 2015 12:20
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Sam (Made perception roll for Sam here): 1d20+6 20: With Lucilla's successful distraction you hear what sounds like bones and flesh being crunched. The keening seems to be a bi-product of the other noises. You barely have time to really process what you're hearing before... Lucilla, Tabitha: With teamwork, and by equal parts restraint and religious training Tabitha resists the urge to touch the dagger. Emerin seems to notice the compulsion did not take hold, and with a speed that belies his size, he bolts into the back of his shop, but not before pitching the box right at Lucilla’s head!: @22 vs AC21 1d6+2 3. The empty box knocks Lucilla back a half step and opens a small wound on her forehead, but she's tougher than that! The keening sound grows louder for a moment as the rear door opens, and everyone has a moment to see:  Beady black eyes sit in faces of pale leather skin. Fresh blood soaks the fur around their faces and chests, while long ropey arms flex as they turn towards the commotion. The keening grows louder still.  Counter is difficult terrain to hurdle it, shelves in the main room provide partial cover. Everything else is pretty much what it looks like. pre:Init Block - the Storefront: Emerin: 18 Tabitha: 14 Sam: 10 Lucilla: 7 Biters: 7, lose to Lucilla  Damage Taken: 0 - AC/F/R/W 22/19/16/13, 1d8+6, +7 Atk Damage Taken: 0 - AC/F/R/W 18/16/10/16, 1d10+6, +9 Atk--- Raymond: Investigating the other bodies you discover that these are likely locals. They appear to be lower class or street riffraff, from the accoutrements in their possession, but none are military or Keepers. Your years of training clue you in that these are people easily forgotten in a city the size of Insecarno. Phyl: The grain is gray, almost like it was drained of life, but the ultimate cause eludes you. You can easily see that the crates were smashed to get at something, and the grain was probably used as a packing material. Unfortunately your whirring brain can't come up with anything specific from the information you have. Garug: After a thorough investigation of everything you know to look for, this body appears to well and truly belong to Commander Gifford. None of the telltale signs of magical altering appear present and after consulting with Raymond and Phyl (based on their success earlier Arcana successes) this body was likely the focal point of the ritual. As to Commander Gifford’s ultimate fate… ”I cannot believe this worked. I thought for sure someone would call me out on it and I’d have to dispose of you at the headquarters, but you actually came down here. This city is truly ready for the taking,” along with the words, a very alive Commander Gifford, or a terrifyingly accurate likeness, strolls through the entrance of the warehouse. ”No awkward questions have to be answered or privates disposed of. Honestly I should put you on the payroll; you even thinned the herd by checking on Emerin. Oh, I cannot wait to see the back of his shop after he feeds them to those mindless beasts. A pity he won’t be here to witness your deaths. He does so like to watch the living SUFFER,” the last word seems to pop and hiss, not unlike ribs being broken. Even as the word hangs, the flesh covering the Gifford likeness starts to bubble, skin and muscle igniting with a terrible blue radiance, before fluttering away and dissolving into nothingness. Even the metal flakes and burns, and after mere seconds, what once was Commander Gifford is a strangely glowing ethereal skeletal figure, garbed in leather.  ”These little deceptions never last near long enough. You lot will make excellent supply for the next round though,” the voice has lost everything that made it sound alive, coming out in a musical vibrato, and as he speaks shadowy apparitions seem to pour out of the dark places in the room, materializing into half man shapes brandishing weapons or wicked claws. With a casualness that offends, the once-Gifford unsheathes a saber and points it at Raymond. A bar of blue fire ignites the air between them - : @22 vs Ref15 1d10+7 8 - and even as it sears into Ray's flesh he sees himself in his mind as the monster he fears he is becoming. (-2 all attacks, +4 damage to attacks, save ends, fear type effect if it matters for saves).  (There is room to maneuver without touching the circle, but if you end up fighting in a square with any element of the circle in it, make a save each turn, on a failed save, you contact it, and bad things might happen!) pre:Init Block - the Warehouse: Glowy Skeleton: 23 Garug: 22 Phyl: 16 Ray: 15 Shadows: 14  Damage Taken: 0 - AC/F/R/W 23/15/19/15, 1d8+6, +10 Atk Damage Taken: 0 - AC/F/R/W 18/18/12/12, 1d10+4, +9 Atk(Both fast enemies have already used their turns, all players are up! Remaining enemies, and fast enemy at top of round will go **Friday!!**) Mortify fucked around with this message at 04:29 on May 6, 2015 |
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May 6, 2015 02:47
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Tabitha With keen senses she knew that their leisurely visit was not all it was cracked up to be. As the box bounces off Lucilla's head it was obvious that Diplomacy Had Failed! Not wasting a second Tabitha drew her blade and prompted the others to action with a single overhead swing, the strange holes drilled near the hilt producing an unmistakable howl in the air, a common spectacle during festival... It was time for sacrifice. Free hand met the counter and propelled her entire body up and over in an acrobatic flip. She landed running in a manic dash forward, eyes bulging and mouth open to breath as she ignored the ghouls. Seeing the marks of retreat led her to the conclusion that he would be blessed first. Without stopping she let her blade run low along the ground, the sound of rushing wind building. Light as air she ran up the side of the wall and even stepped to the ceiling itself at the last moment, stepping clear out of reach of Emerin. From here she tapped her foot once at extreme speed, bounded off and landed in front of him, hands held high to either side! One open, the other handling the sword with tense fingers instead of a firm grip! She looks to her sword hand and mimed a gasp before immediately passing it off to the other hand and in a practiced thrust stabbing Emerin in the thigh, covering her own face with the hallowed first spray of blood. She takes another step forward and unmistakably intends to keep pressing the blade in! The absence of any hesitation would put any man off... and sure enough she has driven Emerin back a step, fear pulling the blade free. She holds her blade up, the red on the white steel the same as the reds of her dyes, the red on her white face passing along her lips and cheeks without standing out against the make-up. Instead of pressing the terror though... she blocks the door. Free: Failed Diplomacy grants the three of us CA against All Enemies for this Round Move to G4 Standard: Begin Wind Fury Assault Fly to J2 above Emerin's 5 Foot Reach During the movement swing at his AC for 21 + 2 from CA for a Hit! Slide him to H4 and deal 6 Damage pre:Tabitha HP: 36/36 (THP: ) AC: 19 Passive Insight: 15 Surges: 9/9 (V: 9) For: 14 Passive Perception: 17 Initiative: +4 Ref: 17 Action Points: 1/1 Speed: 6 Will: 19 Vision: Normal Size: Small Languages: Primordial, Giant Attack: +10 Melee, +7 Implement At Will Encounter Daily Staggering Note [ ] Second Wind [ ] Sprightly Rhythm War Song Strike [ ] Second Chance [X] Failed Diplomacy [ ] [ ] Shroud [ ] Thought-Eater(Item) [ ] [ ] Majestic Word [ ] Lucky Charm(Item) [X] Words of Friendship [X] Wind Fury Assault [ ] Shout of Triumph [ ] Rally Spectral Host Ally Buffs Valor: (Aura 5) Gain +3 THP when Bloodying or KOing Enemy Song of Rest: +4 HP per Surge Spent while Short Resting Passives Bold +5 to Saving Throws against Fear Nimble: +2 Defenses against OAs Battle Song: +1 to Push/Pull/Slide Superior Will: Saving Throw at Start of Turn to end ANY Stun/Daze Acrobat Boots: Stand from Prone as Minor Rituals: Traveler's Chant, Wizard's Curtain Doomykins fucked around with this message at 14:23 on May 6, 2015 |
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May 6, 2015 03:35
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Garug Garug unshipped his flail and shield, and the symbol around his neck began to shine with black light. He didn't speak back to the creature- it seemed to overly enjoy the sound of its own voice, why encourage it- but he did spare a few sentences for his companions as he readied himself for battle. "Remarkable, the arrogance shown by the undead. This monster is not only content with its fate, it is proud of it! Proud of being damned." He shook his head. "No matter. Its warped soul will surely thank us when we grant it oblivion." He took off running, skirting the edge of the rune on the floor and heading for the shadow-creature to the false Commander's left. He shouted back instructions at Raymond, who was still reeling from blast of blue fire. "Engage Giffords! I will deal with this shadow, and then join you. The others will come to us." Garug covered the length of the warehouse in a few moments, his mail and weapon clinking. Having no time to prepare an invocation, he simply swung his flail at the shadow, and felt a shock run up his arm as the head impacted something in the vague mass. A hit, then. Moving to E8, charging to F13. Charge attack vs e14 shadow: 1d20+9 vs AC 28 1d10+2 12 pre:Garug HP: 38/38 (THP: ) AC: 20 Passive Insight: 20 Surges: 10/10 (V: 9) For: 17 Passive Perception: 15 Initiative: +8 Ref: 15 Action Points: 1 Speed: 5 Wil: 18 Vision: Low-Light At Will Encounter Daily [*] Death's Shadow [ ] Shining Symbol [ ] Font of Tears [*] Tenebrous Blessing [ ] Hobgoblin Discipline [ ] Resurgent Strength [ ] Smite Undead (CD) [ ] Amulet of Elegy (item) [ ] Stay the Hand of Death (CD) [ ] Symbol of Mortality (item) [ ] Eye of the Vulture [ ] Chainmail of Dwarven Vigor (item) [ ] Inevitable Doom [ ] Death Surge [ ] Second Wind [ ][ ] Healing Word Melee Basic Attack (Flail): 1d20+8 vs AC; 1d10+2 damage. Ranged Basic Attack (Javelin): 1d20+4 vs AC; 1d6 damage. Passives: Phalanx Soldier: +1 to AC while wearing a shield and adjacent to an ally wearing a shield Devout Protector Expertise: Allies get a +1 AC shield bonus while you wear a shield Last Legion Officer: Ally can gain +2 to AC and Reflex UEONT or shift 1 as a free action when you grant them a healing surge Death Domain Features: Gain 5 THP when you use Healing Word, Resist 5 Necrotic Shark Mafia fucked around with this message at 05:11 on May 6, 2015 |
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May 6, 2015 05:09
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Sam Joko "This is what I get for giving him the benefit of the doubt - ALRIGHT YOU BITERS, THE KING OF ENDINGS HAS WAITED FOR YOU LONG ENOUGH! EXPRESS DELIVERY IT IS!" Sam leaps over the counter as he draws his blade and, muttering a half-curse half-prayer, seems to gather the darkness to him as he slams the thin blade into the biter's skull - then hurls it to the side as he rips the weapon clean, dodging backwards as he does so to avoid the counter-attack! Move: Go to D3 and gain partial concealment until end of my next turn. +2 defenses! Minor: Curse Bitey at H6 Standard: CHARGE! Charge to G5! Eldritch Strike vs AC: 1d20+11 22 3d8+2d6+5 23 Assassin's Strike: 1d10+23 30 Bitey takes ten damage, slides to G6, I slide to H5, and gain ANOTHER +2 to all defenses against Bitey so long as it's cursed. Assuming it lived! But I AM assuming it's also at least bloodied! Hooray for assassinations!  Now harder to see as he seems to melt in and out of the darkness, he leans to whisper to the human. "Coulda done this the easy way." pre:Sam Joko HP: 38/38 (THP:0) AC: ProfessorCirno fucked around with this message at 00:46 on May 11, 2015 |
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May 6, 2015 05:29
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Lucilla Flavia Quinta Lucilla cursed as Emerin struck her with the box, her sword appearing in her hand in an instant as she refocused herself, seeing the world anew as the place of realities and unrealities that it was. She turned her left foot in a slow, graceful movement and space rearranged itself, depositing her with her sword extended in a deep thrust that catches the creature Joke had battered backwards. With a graceful half-turn of her sword space rearranges itself and half of the creature is deposited neatly in the far corner of the room. She smiles grimly and swivels on the heel of her right foot, trying to bend space around the monster near her, but she stumbles slightly and the effect refocuses around one of the other undead. Lucilla purses her lip and arranges her sword high in a guard motion, eyes darting from side to side and tracking the motion around her. The next creature that attacked would find its strike going somewhere else entirely, if she had something to say about it. Move: Fey Step to F5 assuming that the Biter Sam attacked is still alive; if not, just Move to F5 and save the Fey Step. Use Eladrin Swordmage Advance to make an Eldritch Strike against the Biter Sam attacked. Eldritch Strike vs AC: 1d20+10 25 1d8+7+1d6 20 It takes 20 damage, and if it's still alive I slide 2 to move it into G8. Standard: Grasp of the Iron Tower vs. the Biter in G7. Grasp of the Iron Tower vs Fortitude: 1d20+9 11 2d10+5 19 That's a whiff. Take 3 damage and make a secondary attack against the Biter in J6. Grasp of the Iron Tower vs Fortitude: 1d20+9 26 1d10+2 12 12 damage to the Biter in J6, and it can't move closer to me on my turn. Minor: Warlock's Curse the Biter in G7. I get +2 to all defenses versus his attacks. Immediate: Next time an enemy hits an ally within 5 squares, use Dimensional Vortex to move the enemy next to another enemy and use their attack on that enemy instead. Ideally I'd like to make a biter attack Emerin, or Emerin attack one of the biters (away from the door), but I'm not that picky. pre:Lucilla Flavia Quinta HP: 29/35 (THP: ) AC: 21 Passive Insight: 11 Surges: 8/8 (V: 8) For: 13 Passive Perception: 11 Initiative: +2 Ref: 16 Action Points: 1/1 Speed: 6 Will: 19 Vision: Low-light Size: Medium Attack: +10 Melee, +7 Implement At Will Encounter Daily Eldritch Strike [ ] Second Wind [ ] Vanishing Blade Sword Burst [X] Fey Step [ ] Armor of Dark Majesty(Item) Shadow Blend [X] Aegis of Assault [ ] Gloaming Shroud(Item) Warlock's Curse [X] Grasp Iron Tower [ ] Staggering Lonsword(Item) [ ] Dimensional Vortex Passives Trance: Sleep isn't real. Will of the Real: +5 racial bonus to saving throws vs. charm effects. Knight of Synnoria: Can take an ally with you when you Fey Step. Shadow Blend: Gain Concealment if you end your turn within 2 squares of dim light or darkness. RPZip fucked around with this message at 19:52 on May 6, 2015 |
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May 6, 2015 08:24
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Phyl The undead. The lanterns behind Phyl's eyes flare up until the glass is smoking with intensity. Two metal plates at the center of his chest slide away, revealing a great and intricate lattice of gears of a thousand different sizes, interlocking teeth and chains whirling in unison, ratchets rattling about one massive mainspring, and the whole thing illuminated by a gleaming blue gem that seems to emit light from nowhere. But... there's something wrong about the light, around the edges of it, as if something sits there just outside of sight. The shadows lengthen in places where it seems like they shouldn't. His head tilts back to reveal... nothing. A black hole, from which emits a screech that pierces the ears and echoes around the room. "UNDEAD SURRENDER YOUR UNNATURAL EXISTENCE AND SUBMIT TO LIFE" The shadow nearest to the golem begins to wish it wasn't as tiny flakes of essence begin to peel away from its body and race towards the gem in Phyl's chest. Free: Lanterns to bright light, if they weren't already. Also my vestige is Zutwa. Minor: Warlock's Curse on Shadow Q2. +2 to all defenses against it. Move: to M2, gaining concealment from Shadow Walk. Standard: Eyes of the Vestige vs Shadow Q2 Will: 1d20+9 15 1d6+12+1d6 15 psychic damage and gain Prime Shot bonus UEONT. pre:Phyl HP: 42/42 (THP: ) AC: 17 Passive Insight: 10 Surges: 11/11 (V: 10) For: 17 Passive Perception: 10 Initiative: +1 Ref: 16 Action Points: 1 Speed: 6 Will: 14 Vision: Normal At Will Encounter Daily Eldritch Blast [ ] Second Wind [ ] Vestige of Mount Vaelis Eyes of the Vestige [ ] Dark Speech [ ] Assassin's Bane Warlock's Curse [ ] Warforged Resolve [ ] Life Bind [ ] Fortune Binding [ ] Rotting Doom Item Powers Delver's Light: (At-Will, Free Action): Emit bright light, dim light or no light in a 20 square radius [ ] Sustaining Cloak: (Encounter, No Action): Sustain a power without using the action it would normally require [ ] Armor of Dark Majesty +1: (Daily, Minor Action): Place Warlock's Curse on any enemy in sight Melee Basic Attack (Mindwarp Staff of Ruin +1): 1d20+10 vs AC; 1d8+4 Ranged Basic Attack (Eldritch Blast): 1d20+8 vs AC; 1d10+7 damage. Conditionals/Resists: Warforged Resilience: +2 to saving throws against ongoing damage; can take 10 on death saving throws Armour of Dark Majesty: +2 to all defenses against enemies under effects of my Warlock's Curse Sacrifice to Caiphon: Recover encounter power that misses all targets by taking damage equal to power's level Restless Dead: Deal +1 damage to undead creatures Vile Scholar: +2 to Bluff, Diplomacy and Intimidate against evil creatures Living Construct: No need to eat, breathe or sleep Shadow Walk: Gain concealment after moving 3+ squares Staff Expertise: Gain +1 to reach of staff melee attacks; don't provoke OAs with ranged/area staff spells
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May 6, 2015 16:38
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Raymond "So that's why you picked me, you felt I'd be sympathetic? You'd have to know I'd never- GKAGH!" Whatever that bolt was that hit Ray, it was enough to send his darkside into a frenzy. His skin was beginning to tear, and bone began to poke out. Raymond's teeth grew and sharpened as his pupils dilated, in his mind, all the conflict, all the reasoning was gone, replaced by one directive. "Kiiiilllllll......" Hissed the creature that controlled Ray's body, it looked towards Garug, drool coming from Ray's mouth when something snapped too in it's mind (saving throw via Font of Life): 1d20 10. Ray's influence, not totally absent, began to direct the creature, which laughed a throaty chortle from Ray's throat. "Kiiiillll..... YOU!" It screamed, turning towards the fake Captain Gifford, Ray's legs bending and snapping into goatlike limbs. Minor: Assuming Form of the Fearsome Ram as Ray transforms into a crazy monster. +2 to speed and +2 to charge attacks, plus I push dudes 1 square when charging UEotE. Ray's bent and twisted shape ran along the outside of the circle, cackling in an unnatural manner. Move: moving to E11 Once in position, the beast lept forwards with frightening speed, and begins slashing at the fake commander! Standard: Form of the Fearsome Ram Attack vs Fortitude: Shift my speed to J16 before the attack, 1d20+9 14 2d8+5 7 [One short, and that damage roll!  ]But it appears the conflict within is keeping him distracted! pre:Raymond Bartos HP: 36/44 (THP: ) AC: 18 Passive Insight: 13 Surges: 10/10 (V: 11) For: 18 Passive Perception: 13 Initiative: +2 Ref: 15 Action Points: 1/1 Speed: 6 Will: 16 Vision: Low-light Size: Medium Attack: +9 Melee At Will Encounter Daily Warden's Fury [ ] Second Wind [X] Form of the Fearsome Ram Warden's Grasp [ ] Demonic Frenzy [ ] Deathstalker Longsword (Item) Playful Torment [ ] Dark Reaping [ ] Bestial Hide Armor (Item) Warden's Lunge [ ] Wildblood Frenzy [X] Form of the Fearsome Ram [ ] Guardian Thorns [ ] Predatory Guardian Passives Unnatural Vitality: Keep on ticking until I fail a death save. Font of Life: Saving throw starts my turn. ]Jousting Light Shield: Resist 5 vs OAs while charging. Cannot be pullled, pushed or slid until EoNT after charge.
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May 6, 2015 20:22
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Sam/Lucilla/Tabitha: Tabitha's acrobatics take Emerin by surprise, and even as he raises a guard against her sword her stab takes him, "Blasted little poo poo!" he bellows at her. Like twin serpents, Sam's charge and Lucilla's teleporting strike skewers the foremost biter, and it crashes to the ground in a heap of messy skin and bone. Its friend rushes to attack Sam, huge bloody maw wide when...*pop* ...it's teeth sink into Emerin's forearm! Emerin howls, "Cursed mages!" and throws it backwards, his the wound in his arm looking like a butcher's refuse bin. The remaining biter takes this opportunity to charge the painted target right in front of it, but as it comes crashing in, Tabitha sidesteps it at the last second, and it smashes the door instead. Taking a step back, the biter shakes its head and growls at her loudly. The keening suddenly grows to a crescendo and the downed biter near the center of the room swells like a sack and finally explodes in a shower of blood and bone fragments, somehow only catching Emerin and one of the other biters! "Who's side are you on!" Emerin screams at the empty air. "Now I've got to kill you. UGH. He won't let me live this down if I don't end your sorry little lives. SUCH A WASTE!" As he screams Emerin deflates, a popped balloon, and as the skin falls away a strange undead creature, looking like various other creatures stitched together and supported by two massive long arms emerges from the husk.  Its one beady eye fixes onto Sam, even shadowy as his figure is, and with a blood curdling scream it barrels into Sam with two vicious blows, the first knocking him back a step and the second bringing the beast with it. The savagery of the blows makes Sam's head ring!  Biter 1 dies to combined force from Sam & Lucilla. Emerin takes a combined 30 damage from Tabitha, Lucilla's dimensional vortex Biter redirect and later explosion. Biter @ J4 takes 8 damage from explosion. Sam takes 23 damage from Emerin's two strikes. Sam is disoriented (-2 all attacks vs. Emerin, save ends) Biter in J4 is cursed by Lucilla (Lime green halo).  Damage Taken: 30 - AC/F/R/W 22/19/16/13, 1d8+6, +9 Atk AC/F/R/W 18/16/10/16, 1d10+6, +9 Atk@J4 Damage Taken: 8 @J3 Damage Taken: 0 ----- Ray, Phyl, Garug: As Garug rushes the shadow, his flail connects solidly and the shadow creature loses its hold on this realm. It explodes suddenly into a misty cloud of black smoke, but thinking quickly, Garug covers his face and doesn't breathe it in until it dissipates. Phyl similarly detonates a shadow, and being outside the range of the cloud watches as the smoke harmlessly joins the air around it. From behind him, one of the shadow shapes raises a very wicked looking axe arm at Phyl as it charges towards him but fails to find purchase in his frame. The remaining shadow moves in on Raymond, using his moment of weakness to land an incredibly powerful slash of its claws, raking him across his back. "Ha, maybe you three aren't as good as I heard. Oooooooh they killed some shadows. You going to put that on your annual review? Hahahaha." The skeletal figure steps around Ray, and as he does so a blue mist rises around them, obscuring them from Phyl and Garug's vision. "I swear, this is going to be easy if you three fight like this. Watch as I kill your little puppy. Do they know your secret, Ray? They will soon." His saber thrusts into Ray's side before igniting with a cold blue light that even those outside can't miss.  Garug kills Shadow 1 - it fails its retaliation mist attack. Phyl kills Shadow 2 - it is out of range for its retaliation mist attack. Ray is hit for 27 total damage, 14 from Shadow 4, then a further 13 from Blue Skeleton. The blue outline marks a totally obscured area around Ray and the Blue Skeleton. Only attacks with an origin square inside can hit inside, and vice versa. Damage Taken: 0 - AC/F/R/W 23/15/19/15, 1d8+6, +10 Atk AC/F/R/W 18/18/12/12, 1d10+4, +9 AtkShadow 3 @L2 - Damage Taken: 0 Shadow 4 @K15 - Damage Taken: 0 (Sorry for the delay, I didn't end up being around last night. Everyone is up, enemies go again on Sunday.) Mortify fucked around with this message at 03:09 on May 9, 2015 |
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May 8, 2015 21:58
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Dang I checked the second you updated, here's a superfast post Garug "Quiet yourself, abomination." Garug moved between Raymond and the shadow, facing the false Giffords, and touched his symbol briefly. The head of his flail flared with the same blacklight, and he struck the skeleton a resounding blow. Assailed by divine energy that demanded its dissolution, the creature was sent sprawling away from Raymond, taking its aura with it. As the mist cleared, Garug could see Raymond, looking winded, and... warped. Garug did not know precisely what his fellow sergeant was, but he was on the side of life, and that, for the moment, was enough. "Do not dare quit on me, soldier! Here." He pressed one hand to Raymond's side, mending, in part, what was broken. Move: Moving to K16. Standard: Smite Undead vs skeleton, 1d20+8 vs Will 20 hit; 2d10+4 15 radiant damage, and skeleton is pushed 1 square to J18 and immobilized UEONT Minor: Healing Word on Raymond, he can gain a surge plus 1d6 6 and gets +2 AC and Reflex UEONT. I also gain 5 THP. If someone can take out the shadow next to us I'll immediate reaction death surge to give raymond (and me) 5 thp and a +2 attack roll bonus. If the obscured area is a zone and not an aura, i.e. it doesn't move with the skeleton, I'll be able to make an attack against him too. pre:Garug HP: 38/38 (THP:5) AC: 20 Passive Insight: 20 Surges: 10/10 (V: 9) For: 17 Passive Perception: 15 Initiative: +8 Ref: 15 Action Points: 1 Speed: 5 Wil: 18 Vision: Low-Light At Will Encounter Daily [*] Death's Shadow [ ] Shining Symbol [ ] Font of Tears [*] Tenebrous Blessing [ ] Hobgoblin Discipline [ ] Resurgent Strength [x] Smite Undead (CD) [ ] Amulet of Elegy (item) [x] Stay the Hand of Death (CD) [ ] Symbol of Mortality (item) [ ] Eye of the Vulture [ ] Chainmail of Dwarven Vigor (item) [ ] Inevitable Doom [ ] Death Surge [ ] Second Wind [x][ ] Healing Word Melee Basic Attack (Flail): 1d20+8 vs AC; 1d10+2 damage. Ranged Basic Attack (Javelin): 1d20+4 vs AC; 1d6 damage. Passives: Phalanx Soldier: +1 to AC while wearing a shield and adjacent to an ally wearing a shield Devout Protector Expertise: Allies get a +1 AC shield bonus while you wear a shield Last Legion Officer: Ally can gain +2 to AC and Reflex UEONT or shift 1 as a free action when you grant them a healing surge Death Domain Features: Gain 5 THP when you use Healing Word, Resist 5 Necrotic e; activating symbol of mortality is a minor action so i couldn't actually fit that in. extra 1d8 damage redacted Shark Mafia fucked around with this message at 01:55 on May 9, 2015 |
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May 8, 2015 22:58
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(Its an aura, and moved when you moved him)
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May 9, 2015 00:50
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