|
Third Life, Oceans Eleventhousand BCE Whatever it is that you are worried about, weather it be leaving too obvious a trace, accidentally dropping your boss in the river or one of twelve other doomsday scenarios running through your head right now, it is enough to get you to slow your pace and consider your next move more methodically. You spend a few minutes looking around for a gangplank and rope, busting up a few crates for extra planks and cobble together a makeshift bridge between the various footholds and the waterfall cave proper. It's not pretty, but it's sturdy enough that you don't have to worry losing your purchase ferrying anything from the boat and back. Satisfied with your work, you head back into the depths of the ship to look for the rest of the Canoptic Jars, figuring it's safer to move Lord AK-UT-EN last, and have his Royal Organs, and those of his followers ready to be applied should an emergency occur. Besides, you aren't quiet sure which jar is which and KES-KES-TEE can only recognize her own, not having been privy to the deeper secrets of the Royal Clergy in her previous life. Not that her remaining jars would do her any good in her current condition, co-inhabiting in your ratty apartment of a body.  Nevertheless, packing another crate full of the jars you head off into the underground once more, depositing them safely within, behind one of dimly glistening crystals that light the lower caverns.  Another trip and this time you bring some of the more important items from the ship, the staff, the tome, some of the random golden treasure from the tomb that you think might remind your Lord of his home. Enough supplies to last you a night or two without having to go outside to scavenge. You don't expect the revivification process to last that long, after all His Royal Highness is now in possession of His Royal Rod and is merely taking an extended nap, as He is fully within His Divine Right to do, after having so graciously Divinely Intervened on your behalf. You don't know, or at least can't remember much about Necromancy more than that it, in general terms, deals with the processes of life and death and is frowned upon by any number of religions you wouldn't care to mention. Suffice it to say you have much to re-learn, but maybe His Lordship will take you under his wing, or you can learn from his examples once He gets His bearings. Not willing to put it off any longer you rush back to the Golden Tomb and ponder how to Manhandle His Golden Sacrophagus from within the confines of it's Golden Sanctum. It is... quiet a large box, you realize as you stand face to face with it. Made out of, if you were to a hazard a guess, solid gold. Having another pair of hands, real ones, would certainly help, but you have none to spare and the only one around here who can raise new servants is currently sleeping in the box you are attempting to move. Can't be helped, you knew going in it would be tricky to pull of, hence the planks and preperation. There aren't any convenient cranes or handholds or wheelbarrows and your confidence in your completely untrained wizardry is spotty at best. You'll just have to carry it yourself. Digging your claws into the frame (sorry boss) you hoist the thing onto your back, buckling under the weight but keeping it - barely - aloft. The thing must weigh a quarter tonne, because even freshly built your monstrous muscles are straining with the effort. Hopefully those planks will hold. ... ... And they do. It is, quiet honestly, only half as nerve wracking as you were expecting. Some birds chirp happily overhead, the waves lash lazily on the shore and the waterfall neatly parts - to avoid the obviously tainted coffin, or out of reverence for its occupant? who can say - to ease your passing at the very least. Vines too recoil as you pass and the chamber within grows a tad dimmer, the sunlight losing some of it's sparkle. You can practically feel the air around you getting ever so slightly colder as you invade the earth with your solitary procession and you just Know that the ambient mana levels are dropping, slowly being absorbed by the Rod firmly in the funerary statues grasp.  You could almost swear the twin snakes are smirking, their intricately carved golden reptilian fangs gleaming even in the darkness as they eat their fill of the local thaumic ecosystem. Finally, you reach your destination, far enough below what you now are pretty certain is a Font that even your mana-starved cargo would be hard pressed to make a noticeable dent in it's output, whilst still allowing the excess to be siphoned off. Perfect for laying low. You'd pat yourself on the back if you weren't still carrying the Sarcophagus. *clunk* *pat pat* That's better. You've done well, haven't you? Out of harms way and in relative safety, with an unknown number of murderous, thieving assailants after you, dead bodies in your wake, a handful of treasures. Just like the bad old days. You sigh loudly in the gloom and sit down with your rat-face rested in your rat-paws. A moments respite before work must continue. You allow yourself to unwind and just listen for a while.  A gentle breeze through lonely tunnels. Not a soul stirs. You are alone.  Time passes. Somewhere far above, the stars come out. Their light reflecting of the waterfall creating the uniquely ethereal illusion of a gate to another world set directly into the cliff face. The constellation wink in their enormity, observing the silent glade in their everlasting vigil.  You pick through the one almost comprehensible magical tome you've found so far, trying to make sense of the words. You know you knew at least the basics of magic before, long ago. Long before your brief stint as the worlds last dragon. You were... you had... what was it, Power? Capability? Concepts hard earned and hard fought. Did you grow complacent? Did some nebulous They rise against you, cast you down? Why can't you remember anything but flashes? You wave such philosophizing from your mind for now, focusing on the odd script before you. "An introduction to Vibromancy." You are pretty sure that is a mis-translation, "By the Archdean of Disorder" from the "Unacademy of Eris." - Some hoighty toity mage no doubt. Neither the title nor the college ring any bells, though the inherent rebelness in calling your school an 'unacademy' does make you smirk (especially impressive as you have the head of a rat). Thumbing through the pages, you do your best to internalize the more sensical bits of mystical lore. The section on fundamental concepts stands out to you as especially useful. You can almost see how it all fits together. How all these disparate cogwheels interact and form the world that you live in, even if you cannot see your place in it clearly. To do magic you need mana, mana is formed as aether flows throughout the world, gaining 'flavours' (another mis-translation?) based on events, emotions and the lives of sentients through which it travels. You gather and store this mana within yourself or within some ritually prepared vessel, to power your spellcraft at the appropriate time. Simple enough. You concentrate and attempt to pull in some of the ambient mana. There is enough to go around that your boss won't mind, you are pretty sure. Besides, what is He going to do about it? Sleep for another century? Anyway, what was it you were supposed to do? Meditate? You close your eyes, and your eye and... imagine.  The beating of a heart, the sunlight on your skin. An overcast day. A dead bird. Maggots. Decay. Fluids seeping into the soil. Nurturing worms, roots, critters both tiny and miniscule. Feeding the earth itself. Hunger, survival. Growth. Death. A cycle extending as far back as the beginning, stretching into infinity. Ending with a dull iron blade. You wipe some sweat from your brow. It's red, but you think nothing of it. Long day. You contemplate your True Self, as if looking in a mirror that is behind your head. Ah, yes. You can feel it now, tumbling about inside you. A measure of Elemental Nature? You look around for something, anything to use it on. Some damp moss beneath your bootheel. Why not. You make as if to throw an invisible pebble from your hands, you snap your fingers, but nothing happens. Ah, right, there was more to it then that. You flip through the tome some more. The Weave is mentioned several times. Some sort of abstract system of rules, natural laws perhaps, as far as you can tell? The authors writes at length about how the various 'schools arcana' attempt to achieve 'harmony' with them, and how those of his school differ in that they don't. Not especially helpful. You turn to the section on practical examples, but it's full of nonsense. Full of terms you can't remember if you ever knew, much less understand now. Your past life as a mystical disease gave you some insight into 'chakras' at least, chambers inside the living body through which aether passes and can be cultivated (as the tome puts it), allowing you to... what, put it to better use? Transmute one 'flavour' to another as an alchemist would turn lead into gold, or cook it with yourself as if some whimsical scullery servant, in order to ripen it for future recipes. That makes some sense, raw nature is rarely helpful, it's domains far too wide to enact specific change. You close your eyes again and 'weed out' the images that flood your mind. No hearts or birds or worms or death. You breath in slowly, in your minds eye seeing the green-ish motes rise higher and higher within yourself. Let them gather around the stomach why not? Let them dance around the half digested cheese and learn the fate of all who would oppose you. Let them see how your body pulls each morsel apart to rebuild tissue and provide sustenance. Let them grow. You open your eyes again and the crystals around you are thrumming, though it is only barely audible, and even then only because your ears are so massive. You feel a sort of static in the air that you can't quiet place, but you know that Potential within you is now attuned. You try the finger snap again, this time picking out a patch of fungi growing midst a crevice in the rockface, but nothing happens. Annoyed you pinch your nose and re-read the sample spell for any other clues. Babbis Misnomer posted:Now, flush with pain ant moist with sweat, with thine Vibrato ex Magicka tuned Anathema Natura, make thee a well emphasised significantly Erroneous Statement whilst reversing the flow of now ripened Magicke within thee toward Muladhara, keeping thy Ajna closed shut. Ugh, more nonsense. Whatever this "Vibromancy" is supposed to be, it is clear they don't do things by the book. Ironic seeing as you are literally (heh) reading the book on Vibromancy. You feel as if someone, somewhere, is playing a cosmic prank on you. Some bored deity gifting you A Book of Magic only for it to be the product of some ancient lunatic ludicrously obsessed with the concept of Opposite Day. However untoward it is however, something about the way the spell is written does strike a chord, or perhaps a syllable in your synapses. Babbis Misnomer posted:Verbal, Semantic It was something about making your Will known. How else could Creation react accordingly? To open a door you pull the handle, to cast a spell you say the magic words. "Growth." You turn the word over in your snout. "Grow, grew, grown. Raise, embellish..." No, your words had no power in them. They were common common, with perhaps a tinge of ancient returnal empireism or errant Squeakspeak. AUGEO  Something within your stirs. Ancestral memory? A roar of defiance from ages past. A desire to become something more. To do whatever it takes to reach your goal. That is the essence of growth. The static intensifies and your paw trembles, hairs standing on end. You point a crooked claw towords the fungus and repeat your Statement with Intent. AUGEO!  The power! The Possibility! Little by little these skills will return to you, you know it. You just need a little time, then they will see. They will all see. Bwa ha ha ha! ~~~ Spell Learned! Auego Level 1 Transmutation Verbal, Somatic A measure of elemental nature is cultivated into Growth Aspected Mana within your chakras, and released with intent and the power-word Auego unto a target patch of fungus, causing it to grow. It probably has other uses? You only used a little mana. ~~~ 1: You wheeze. That took a lot out of you. More than what you had, to be sure. You wipe more sweat from your brow. Your paws are stained red. Perhaps some sleep will do you good. You can always practice more tomorrow. A: Hold vigil until Lord AK-UT-EN wakes up. B: Sleep first, then Hold vigil until Lord AK-UT-EN wakes up. C: Sleep first, then Go Exploring. Lord AK-UT-EN is probably safe down here. Where too? Known nearby locations: The Font, The Cliffs, The Lake, The Jungle, The Ship. D: Something Else? Write-in.
|
#
?
Feb 11, 2023 19:19
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 29, 2024 10:14 |
|
|
quote:Introductory Vibromancy -Vibromancy is strong, but don't neglect other fields. --Just because you can rip the fabric of reality to your bidding, does not mean you should. -'Death', while probably not our contractual ala warlock benefactor, could possibly fulfill that roll. --Emphasis on could, as it would no doubt take something special to convince them that we're worth further investment in us. -Annunciation is important. -We should lay off the casting for a bit as to avoid a short (if atypically long for us) life. --The local magic doesn't really agree with us, and we'll either need to calibrate the environmental mana to us, or ourselves to the local mana to reduce strain. -Breaking the rules of magic in a way that aligns with the local weave- (if only partly, vibromancy is intrinsically not aligning with it but breaking it to your will) --stands to have better results than going against the weave entirely. E.G. 'Growth' in nature, 'Fireball' on a volcano, etc. -Annunciation is important. -Neglecting basic protections is a good way to have your long-winded casts interrupted. Painfully. -When all else fails, try to outrun the consequences (read: Planar Horrors) of your casting. -Annunciation is the difference between 'Summon Floof' and 'Summon F.O.O.F.'. ----- A. Further magic is inadvisable at this time, but lesser annoyances might be dealt with should they manifest. Greater annoyances, well. Worry about that if it happens, yes?
|
|
#
?
Feb 11, 2023 20:42
|
|
|
D - Find a local nesting bird and scrawl ᚱᛂᚦᚢᚱᚾ on the back of the book in its blood now that we understand what the book's (poorly) trying to teach us.
|
|
#
?
Feb 12, 2023 14:50
|
|
|
A It will be just our luck in this thread to get ganked when we nap. Also, quote:Now, flush with pain ant moist with sweat, with thine Vibrato ex Magicka tuned Anathema Natura, make thee a well emphasised significantly Erroneous Statement whilst reversing the flow of now ripened Magicke within thee toward Muladhara, keeping thy Ajna closed shut. No clue what Muladhara or Ajna are supposed to be, but the idea of Argumentative Magic is pretty funny. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ohDB5gbtaEQ This but the room behind to crackle with power
|
|
#
?
Feb 12, 2023 17:07
|
|
|
A We need to be vigilant. Fortunately vigilance is secondary in green.
|
|
#
?
Feb 13, 2023 12:31
|
|
|
Third Life, Oceans Eleventhousand BCE What is sleep to the task at hand? The Enemy, whoever they are, could storm your position at any moment. You must stay the course. Dropping the book for now into the pile of stuff that represents your collected wealth and resources, a hoard if you will, you perk your senses and prepare for a night of vigil. Normally, you'd have sentries, forward scouts or at least henchmen to divide shifts of guard between, but tonight you have no such luxuries. You are all that stand between the Lord and Death and this fact worries you greatly. As a carry, you always need a backup plan. An ace up your sleeve. But you are trapped here, there is no denying it. Your only hope, that the jungle canopy and the magic of this place will hide your presence long enough for any of the myriad factors weighed against you, to change for the better. The first ten minutes of your watch are tense. Your body, still fresh, still flush after your little experiment, refusing to calm down. The hum is distant now. Not gone, but diminished. The crystals still dull, teal. At twenty minutes in, by your estimate, you notice the first errant mote of gold. A visible glint gone astray. Like cash fading in the wind. Something of value was lost. It picks up, another wisp. You look around, hunching over, expecting an attack from any direction, but you sense nothing, hear nothing, see only the cavern, and sporadic golden embers. You open your third eye to the scene and you see a sort of heat shimmer along the cavern floor. You are surrounded by a shallow see through sea of transparent bluish green, misting as if in an early morning glade. The sarcophagus by your side is a dark void with silent, lashing tentacles. Thick dark veins buried into the earth undulating grotesquely, giving of a sickening vibe of woe. Another pulse and the sea drains imperceptibly, the shimmer growing ever so slightly more violent. You hear the least of cracks, not unlike a mouse nibbling on a piece of stale bread. You open your regular eyes and the scene is the same as it was before. Nothing has changed beyond the occasional spark. Another one, now. You look to Lord AK-UT-EN but he is unmoving, his coffin stationary, his tools and urns where you last lay them. Two wisps. Three. Dancing golden lights illuminate the area for a few seconds at a time. You hear more cracks, your gaze darting over to the base of the sarcophagus now where you notice a rune has appeared along the resplendent relief. You almost mistake it for a smudge of oil or mud at first, a stain on the otherwise so immaculate surface, but no random smudge can attain such minute detail, such angle of intent. No, it must be an inscription of some sort, but with only one symbol to discern and no basis of comparison, you cannot make heads or tails of it. Nevertheless the motes continue apparating, a slow motion conflagration, a reverse light rain. It is getting colder. You hear more cracks and you are beginning to feel like you might be a recently cracked egg in a skillet slowly brought to broil. Will you make a pancake, or a paincake? 1: What do you do? A: This is fine. Continue standing vigil. B: This is fine, but you suddenly have an urge to be standing vigil somewhere else. Perhaps maybe not so near the sarcophagus. C: Inspect the Sarcophagus closer, try to figure out what is going on. D: This is fine, so fine that it can handle itself whilst you take a stroll outside. Maybe hide in the Ship inside the nice magic absorbing cargo hold.... E: The paint chipping is not fine! What would Lord AK UT EN say if his big shiny box wasn't shiny any more?! Smash a few crystals and try to cover up the rune smudge with jagged shiny rocks like a good dragon. Rat. Whatever. F: Maybe this place wasn't such a good idea after all? Should you move the Sarcophagus? Where too? Write-in. G: Something else? Write-in.
|
|
#
?
Feb 15, 2023 17:59
|
|
|
B Going to want to see this.
|
|
#
?
Feb 15, 2023 18:05
|
|
|
Do another look over of the cargo good to make sure we got everything important, and for no other reason...
|
|
#
?
Feb 15, 2023 18:25
|
|
|
D Surely there's something important there that we missed earlier
|
|
#
?
Feb 15, 2023 18:29
|
|
|
B+: Step back, check rune(s?) with third eye, and ask Kes Kes Tee if they can read it.
|
|
#
?
Feb 15, 2023 19:04
|
|
|
Arcanuse posted:B+: Step back, check rune(s?) with third eye, and ask Kes Kes Tee if they can read it. Yeah, this. Use the other mind we have.
|
|
#
?
Feb 16, 2023 00:05
|
|
|
G - Pick up the staff and attempt to vibromance whatever's going on so it strengthens the ritual.
|
|
#
?
Feb 16, 2023 00:06
|
|
|
A
|
|
#
?
Feb 16, 2023 18:03
|
|
|
Arcanuse posted:B+: Step back, check rune(s?) with third eye, and ask Kes Kes Tee if they can read it. AJ_Impy posted:Yeah, this. Use the other mind we have.  KES KES TEE:It is a symbol of the Sacred Script, a part of a larger string, the purpose of which I am not privy to. I will hazard a guess that it has to do with Lord AK-UT-ENs Restoration as it is part of His Sarcophagus. Alas, I cannot tell you more. Neither am I clergy nor have I witnessed such am event. As far as I know, no living being has. The... more permanent members of the Dynasty kept their "tombs" quiet secure, presumably to safeguard themselves in what is in all probability a moment of vulnerability.
|
|
#
?
Feb 16, 2023 18:24
|
|
|
Third Life, Oceans Eleventhousand BCE You nod internally, swiftly grabbing a few of the more potent items from around the Sarcophagus and book it to behind a large boulder near the entrance to the tunnel that leads you to the surface, figuring you are better safe than sorry, but still keeping your Lord within line of sight. The lightshow accelerates, more motes appearing all around, draining the teal light from the nearest crystals entirely. Visible cracks begin to form in the rockface and a moment later, with a jolt of golden sparks, the exposed vein simply vanishes, leaving a hollowed out stone in its wake, as if some termite mound had been petrified by a passing gorgon. Turning your sight back to the golden casket you notice more dark symbols now, a good dozen or so, though linked by no means you can discern, weather spatial or nominal. The atmosphere is noticeably colder and icicles are beginning to form on the least of stalagtites, indicating the drop in temperature is more than just your imagination. Suddenly there is a strong pulse of warm energy emanating from the coffin, as three runes flare at once giving of a maroon glare. With no obvious trigger and no obvious effect beyond the lightshow, it is all you can do to speculate as to its significance. This pattern of crystals vanishing, the temperature dropping and runes flaring continues for a few minutes and by the time most of the surrounding formations have been defaced, the cavern is downright chilly and much, much darker than before. Though the low light conditions pose you no particular issue, the copious particle effects and general haze surrounding the centre-piece of this ritual contribute greatly to obscuring what is actually going on. Your astral sight fares a little better, the auras of the place giving of the appearance of some vast tumour or fungus growing fat of off the roots of some great tree. The Sarcophagus at the centre of it all buried as a heart within a ribcage. Strangest of it all perhaps is how silent the proceedings are. Despite the lightshow, the wind is still and even your footsteps are muted. You’d think high tier Necromancy would be accompanied by the eerie whispers of condemned souls, or the screams of those slain or tortured to power the ritual, or any number of dramatically appropriate reasons, but no, in either realm, be it physical or astral, the affair is as muffled as it is spectacular and cold. It’s all you can do now to settle down behind your rock, trusting that distance is enough to keep you out of harms way whilst allowing you to still keep things under observation. The next half hour of your Vigil goes by relatively uneventfully as you do your best to ignore *gestures vaugley at everything*… whatever is happening beyond your granite curtain. Through it all you feel ill at ease, as your attention wanes and your imagination wanders, filling the gaps in your knowledge with new and novel ways it can all go wrong. In the Theatre of your Mind you see rocks fall, burying you both in an inescapable chamber of stone and soil. You see the strange, coiling roots whip around your ankles and drag you screaming towards an infinite void. You imagine those selfsame roots digging into your skin, draining your humours in much the same way as Lord AK-UT-EN pumped your system full during your own reconfiguration. You imagine the cavern being stormed by knights in shining armour, led be some be-robed holy-person intent on sealing your master in his tomb for another eternity. You watch as the rocks part and give way as some Titan of ages past, with eyes of pure white flame, reaches down into the earth to crush the bug that has invaded its domain, your presence presenting nothing but another wet stain on its mountainous knuckles. In the grim darkness left behind when the ritual is finished, you are unceremoniously eaten by wolves. Yet none of these fears come to pass. Your fortress has kept the storm at bay, your hideout has kept you hidden. The depths of the jungle, so teeming with life, has all but ignored this chamber of respite. Despite it all, you have perhaps the first true ‘break’ of your many recent lives as nothing continues to not not go wrong. When next you peek from around your cover, the gilded cage that once held your Master is gone. In it’s place, a vile black sludge surrounding a fragile funeral pyre surrounded by wicked spikes of ice, as if a glacier had been struck by a comet and sprung a leak of tar. No trace remains of the previous copious crystals, rather it appears as if the each and every stone that once kept a gleam of green as its wealth and pride is now naught but petrified cheese, criss-crossed with open hollows betraying with their absence what once was whole.  ‘You’ve done well, Rat.’ 1: The voice of Lord AK-UT-EN is different now. More refined, less panicky. A: and you prostrate yourself in Reverence. B: and you bow deeply in Respect C: and you give a nod of Acknowledgement. D: and you stand firm in the presence of God. “But we have much to do, and time is ever precious.” You cannot see him clearly. He is both there and beyond, perhaps not yet fully formed, but awake. “The ages have not been kind to my Empire. Too much has changed, these lands are no longer Mine. Our Great Dynasty forgotten.” Your fur stands on end, your breath frosting as His Words reverberate through your sundered setting. 2: “But my will is yet Snuffed, and I yet have you by my side.” E: You will go beyond the jungle, seek the nearest mortal homesteads and take from them the lay of the world, by whatever means you can. F: You will seek out beasts of burden, wild game or untamed creatures and lay claim to their living bodies or fresh carcasses for My Purposes. G: You will gather purest crystal to fill a weavers basket, an amphora of water from a blessed spring, an item of note from our pursuers and then prepare a space with sigils as per my instructions. H: You will, with swiftness and secrecy as your guiding light, scuttle the ship with all due haste and bring whatever you can salvage within the earth, leaving the rest to languish below the waters. I: You will, in your eagerness to safeguard My Return, unmoor the Ship and sail it out to sea, wrecking it three nights travel by the setting Sun. The storms will be fierce and the waves unruly and with no shore in sight your chances of survival, slim to none. I cannot guarantee your safety or success, but if you think you can manage it we would buy a great deal of time. 3: My loyal servants reap the endless bounty of the Sun, however much the Clouds of the Pretenders seek to cower My Glory. Though it is but Newly Risen, let now the first Ray of my Returnal Reign shine upon you. J: You will receive a measure of my Wrath, to smite those who oppose your tasks. K: You will receive a measure of my Royalty, to impose your will on those feeble of mind or weak of resolve. L: You will receive a measure of my Wealth, to bargain, barter or bribe your way through the mortal realm. M: You will receive a measure of my Radiance, to blind our foes or impress the masses. N: You will receive a measure of my Resilience, to protect you from physical altercation. --- KES-KES-TEE and Lord AK-UT-EN are present if you have any questions. You are rested and in decent health. You are unhurt. Your (raw) mana reserves are very slowly recovering. You are in the presence of the Divine.
|
|
#
?
Feb 21, 2023 23:06
|
|
|
B: We recognize our superior, yet even now retain a (little) bit of our past pride. Humbled, not broken. F: Our liege recquires more pawns. Ought to be something about suitable for this purpose. N: Being less likely to die (yet again) would be nice. "My lord, among that the thieves brought of your possessions, do any laborers (Ushabti?) remain?" "We serve gladly, but one (admittedly shared) set of hands is ill-suited for rebuilding Your empire."
|
|
#
?
Feb 21, 2023 23:29
|
|
|
We love our Big Giant Mummy
|
|
#
?
Feb 22, 2023 02:02
|
|
|
B F N
|
|
#
?
Feb 22, 2023 02:46
|
|
|
B F M
|
|
#
?
Feb 22, 2023 05:20
|
|
|
BGM
|
|
#
?
Feb 22, 2023 19:30
|
|
|
BGN
|
|
#
?
Feb 23, 2023 02:21
|
|
|
Arcanuse posted:"My lord, among that the thieves brought of your possessions, do any laborers (Ushabti?) remain?" "It concerns me that unlike you and KES-KES-TEE, they have not yet made their presence known. They were to Guard Me in perpetuity, yet all I can sense is what little atma lingers within their Sacred Remnants. Though their flesh is easily replaced, grown or sourced from local volounteers, if they are not simply stashed away upon the Ship as cargo, they would be simple terrors if animated soul-less. Their spiritual whereabouts are amongst my chief concerns, what I will busy myself with in your absence. As for lesser servants, to aid and perform manual labour and perform Sacred Duties such as The Cooling of the Royal Form With Large Fronds of Palm, amongst the tasks I have laid out for you, the collection of materials required for their conjuring may be found."
|
|
#
?
Feb 23, 2023 17:32
|
|
|
Third Life, Oceans Eleventhousand BCE ~ Path of Divinity Chapter one "So you joined a cult" When the Gods take an active part in the goings on of the world, attaining Apotheosis or getting your foot in the door of a Pantheon is especially tricky. Not to mention the hurdles you might face if your goal is to eventually depose the reigning deities entirely. Therefore, some evildoers such as yourself opt instead for the path of least resistance and join the winning team right of the bat, albeit on a much lower rung of the ladder. For those just starting their spiritual journey, this is the role of the proactive worshiper: The Acolyte. Such Godbotherers operate the day to day operations of the religious order and typically only oversee the most commonplace of rituals, and can be found anywhere a particular divinity is worshipped. They are the most common of the clergy and privy only to the most base of miracles and mysteries. Of course, all of this is dependant on the worldly relevance of the religion in question. The Gods powers are directly related to the fevor, amplitude and multitude of its subjects, granting the whole affair an innate, intimate and communal aspect that usually goes at odds with the more ethically dubious faiths. That is not to say that such niches go unfilled in the divine ecology, only that they are a much harder sell. Aside from a sense of belonging and community however, adhering to a faith and taking active part in it does offer the Acolyte a few choice benefits over the layperson, chief of which being access to the aforementioned miracles. Unlike with Wizards who spend ever longer decades theorizing and calculating optimal spellpaths, filling their tomes with mana infused ink graphs and elemental equations, the Acolyte has the privilege of having all that hard work sorted for them by the God's Themselves, at the expense of having much less creative input into the final product. The religious tracts, mantras and hymns that power Miracles are in a way shortcuts through reality, within the confines of the divinities domains. The main difference between Arcane and Divine supernatural labour can thus be further defined as and simplified to one of studying versus memorizing, or knowing versus believing. You, with your nod of Respect and service to the Lord AK UT EN, are now a Believer. Give or take the faith. As you take your leave of the new sanctum to deal with the first task set before you, the wisdom of the Eternal Sun takes hold within your mind. A new routine to work into your daily doings, a slight inconvenience and drain on your reserves, for the benefit of His Grace and the lives of His Servants (population: you) ~ a prayer to put upon your lips and within you heart, that will serve to protect you in times of darkness and woe. At least the kind inflicted upon you, as you no doubt are about to spread some yourself. Miracle Get! Name: 'A Measure of Lord AK UT ENs resilience.' / "Resilience" Tier and Type: Level 1 Ward Required Components: Verbal, somatic, Mana Expenditure: Minimal drain, Faith aspect. Casting Time: Quick Duration: Variable Target: Self The devotee meditates on the endurance of the Returnal Empire and the everlasting Life of its Divine Founders, praying that they look upon the devotee favourably and protect them from harm. Offering their newly faith aspected mana in this manner, the devotee is blessed with a faint invisible barrier that shields them from light yield kinetic impacts, common hazards such as frostbite and sunburn for short time, in addition to offering them a slightly increased resistance against purely faith based offensive miracles cast by devotees of hostile religions. Some devotees also report being overcome by a sense of paternal agapeian affection, though results may vary. ~ Leaving the cavern of the new sanctum behind, you egress through the shimmering curtain of water to explore in search of local fauna with which to enrich the congregation. With no obvious route out of the chasm that makes up the framing set piece for your hideaway, you are forced to rely on grit and claw to attain higher ground, spearing soft dirt and finding purchase on sturdy roots as you go. Aside from the butterfly you saw earlier and the scaleless, eyeless lizard you suspect makes its home in the deep dark, you haven't really seen much of anything living here besides plants. This changes the moment your furry feet first touch the rich and verdant soil of the upper plateau as a great multitude of colourful birds immediately scatter at your approach.    Like the lake below, the area you find yourself in is objectively beautiful and teeming with elemental nature and life, as evident by the fantastically abnormal lush and bountiful growth and junglefloor activity. Everywhere you look you see a new species of something or other. A family of grubby grubs fleeing deeper into the fractal shrubbery, no doubt eternally grateful that you scared away most of their more ferocious, flying predators. Tiny adders with bright, slick and playful patterns slither hither and yon. Minute monkeys hoot from every branch, most obscured by leafs the size of greatshields. You see some sort of six legged stick insect the size of a Beagle, with the face of a fox if foxes were made out of mandibles. It's eyeless snout fixes on you as a deer in torchlight, before the birds come back to see if you are food yet and make their disappointment known with a chorus of screeches ~ causing it to scurry and scatter.  Above you, the trees rise into yet more trees, their branches crisscrossing the air like a living wicker basket, turning the sky into a home for a thousand different forms of life. Flowers of every shape and hue decorate every possible surface. It is as if you are inside a rainbow. A fairytale. It is overwhelming.   More curious critters arrive, wholly unbothered by your sudden appearance. You see something akin to a hog, but tuskless and the bristly hairs replaced with a silksoft dark green fur. You see a flightless bird descend from the treetops, using its powerful legs and talons to walk down the trunk as if it was as easy to cross as a paved and well maintained public road. Picking out any individual sound amongst the sheer variety of calls present is difficult, though one does stand out, a lower pitched droning that reminds you of a very slow lions roar.   It looks like you have your work cut out for you. Good hunting! What will you go after? Or do you want to push further in? 
|
|
#
?
Mar 17, 2023 20:08
|
|
|
Acquire Hog It looks suitably minion-material, yes.
|
|
#
?
Mar 17, 2023 20:29
|
|
|
Piggy! Pissed off hogs charging out of the underbrush will seriously wreck any adventurer caught unaware.
|
|
#
?
Mar 17, 2023 20:47
|
|
|
Beak, talons? Big ones? Bird get!
|
|
#
?
Mar 17, 2023 21:00
|
|
|
Arcanuse posted:
Do this
|
|
#
?
Mar 17, 2023 21:21
|
|
|
Get the hog.
|
|
#
?
Mar 18, 2023 04:22
|
|
|
Are we picking our starter pokemon already? There should be a third one! Look around for another creature
|
|
#
?
Mar 18, 2023 17:04
|
|
|
Third Life, Oceans Eleventhousand BCE For the first time since as far back as you can casually remember, nothing terrible happens for at least half an hour. You set to your honestly quiet pleasant task of nabbing hogs, the kind of petty poaching that would get a varmint a stern talking to by the local sheriff on a quiet afternoon. Illegal? Perhaps, though not really nefarious. There are plenty of animals in the jungle, and even if there is a village nearby you doubt anyone would mind if a few of them went missing. You doubt anyone will even notice. Really, you are just rehoming them. The evil part comes later. Once you've ferried them home. You begin filling Lord AK-UT-EN's chamber with hogs, two or three per trip depending on their size. At first you worry that they might escape, and ponder constructing some enclosure, but you soon notice they seem content to graze the garden portion of the caverns as long as there is another hog or two in sight. They make the cutest little oinks and their ears wiggle any time you pass. One even attempts to headbutt you affectionately. It is nauseatingly adorable. Is it bigger than the others, smarter?  1: You name it… A: Write-in. B: Nothing at all. Why should I care about a hog? --- Come evening you have collected maybe two dozen hogs and are exhausted. Even with your supernatural stamina, you have still spent an entire day lifting and shuffling up and down a chasm, performing manual labour far beneath your station... but that is about to change. Your boss has been hard at work in your absence performing some protective miracle, his frail physical form now augmented by a swirling mass of vines and crystals that orbit the emaciated central figure with golden trails. From your innate magical sense, you can tell it is a powerful, but costly and inefficient ward only really possible due to the nearby font combined with Lord AK-UT-ENs millennia honed skill. He looks to you as you approach with the herd. "That will do. Pig? That will do." With a complicated wave of his rod, the mighty Lord of the Returnal Empire of the Sun raises each hoglet in the air, golden tendrils shooting out from his heart to their sacred Chakras, as if some macabre puppeteer surgeon hybrid, to push and pull and strip and bend their yielding flesh to more suitable form. It looks quiet painful as all the hogs are still very much awake, their once sweet singsong oinks now tinged by the horrific bodily trauma they must now undergo. You have the front row seat to an honest to evilness abattoir of exquisite pain. You cannot help but laugh. You just wish you had some popcorn. ---  It is morning the next day and you wake from your usual nightmares to the sound of magic, still tired. The minionifying ritual had taken far longer than you'd have liked, hunted as you are, and even if it looked like a lot of fun, there was only so much sociopathy you could take before your own PTDD kicked in, leading you down the dark back alleys of the barley coherent demises all over your Memory Lane.  Through the haze of dreaming you caught glimpses of a time when things were different. When the forces of good and evil were more or less in balance. You remember a market where everything had a price, a city of brittle, black stone with jagged edges, but none as dark or jagged as the people there. You remember the dance of words and acts, every event so carefully planned in advance, every success or failure set in motion long before to achieve some goal or other that seemed important at the time. You remember with strange clarity how your heart stopped, your strength failing as your goblet hit the carpet, shattering and staining that priceless relic with a rare and potent poison. You remember the looks on your servants faces as you collapsed, unable to speak or even breath but none the less aware of your surroundings. They were indifferent. You remember your rival, seated opposite the long darkwood table. Their face in rigor, clutching their chest. Their servants, indifferent. Business as usual. Right, the magic. You groan, ratbones aching, getting up from your bed of hard rocks and gravel only to stare right into the face of, you moan internally, a hoggoblin.  --- Memories of the Overlord unlocked! Henchtypes, continued Minions and You Minions are the creatures at the very bottom of the totem pole in any evil organization. Minions perform all the tasks that even Goons won’t do unless properly threatened. They are also, conversely, the most *important* part of any evil organization because without minions, you’d never get anything done. Minions build, mine, fix, haul. Minions run errands. Minions make sure your armour is suitably polished and that your cape flows just so. Minions are not fighters. They will flee at the first sign of trouble and rightly so because they are pathetic, frail and useful. An Overlords fate is bound to its minions, whether they like it or not. --- The hogggoblin looks at you with big, bright green eyes. It mumbles gibberish at you, dancing its little dance in place. It looks like it has been busy consecrating the place? You feel a shift in the theme of the mana present. You sense the flow has been altered minutely. It looks eager to continue. 2: You guess Lord AK-UT-EN has it well in hand, but as his Carry you could give it an order if you wanted to. C: Write-in D: Leave it alone for now. --- 3: As for yourself… E: You will go beyond the jungle, seek the nearest mortal homesteads and take from them the lay of the world, by whatever means you can. G: You will gather purest crystal to fill a weavers basket, an amphora of water from a blessed spring, an item of note from our pursuers and then prepare a space with sigils as per my instructions. H: You will, with swiftness and secrecy as your guiding light, scuttle the ship with all due haste and bring whatever you can salvage within the earth, leaving the rest to languish below the waters. I: You will, in your eagerness to safeguard My Return, unmoor the Ship and sail it out to sea, wrecking it three nights travel by the setting Sun. The storms will be fierce and the waves unruly and with no shore in sight your chances of survival, slim to none. I cannot guarantee your safety or success, but if you think you can manage it we would buy a great deal of time.
|
|
#
?
Jun 10, 2023 23:07
|
|
|
1: Högendäzs. 2: As this one probably isn't our minion of choice, no, carry on hoggoblin. Mostly for logistics purposes. It helps if we can relay less-important tasks to the minion-of-minions, who can relay it to their newly inferiors to act on. Not too important given the scarcity of hoggoblins at the minute, but once we have more to work with it ought be useful. 3:G. We have minions to help out now, so we should probably get on this. Sounds important. e: changed #2. Arcanuse fucked around with this message at 00:22 on Jun 11, 2023 |
|
#
?
Jun 10, 2023 23:48
|
|
|
quote:Is this one our named, slightly smarter minion? No, at least you don't think so? They were all altered quiet significantly and you just woke up. The one you named/didn't name is probably somewhere else? This is more of a question whether or not you want them to divert to help you with a task, or do something suitably minion-ish like digging out a little hole for you to sleep in or whatever.
|
|
#
?
Jun 11, 2023 00:03
|
|
|
1. Wilbur 2. FEED ME, WORM 3. G
|
|
#
?
Jun 11, 2023 00:18
|
|
|
1: Bak-un 2: D 3:G
|
|
#
?
Jun 12, 2023 11:56
|
|
|
In honor of all of the other wild pigs, I think we should name it 30-50 Feral Hogs. If the forums poster with that name shows up, all the better.
|
|
#
?
Jun 12, 2023 12:05
|
|
|
Third Life, Oceans Eleventhousand BCE You leave the hoggoblins alone for now to focus on one of the more delicate tasks, preparing ingredients for some ritual casting, no doubt high level divine magic that Lord AK-UT-EN wants to perform. You can hardly wait! A chance to see his work up close that probably doesn't involve gruesome torture, which whilst a shame, will at least let you analyze his technique without disassociating too badly. You have the sense that you must have been a very powerful spellcaster at some point before, because you possess an inborn talent with sorcery that stretches beyond your frequent brushes with death. Or is it merely a side effect of some curse that glues you to the land, or of the nature of your peculiar strand of immortality if it is of your own doing, or innate to whatever it is you truly are? Whilst such philosophizing might and probably will keep you up at night, there are still too many missing pieces to puzzle anything together. Still, even if your current body isn't wholly ideal with regards to the magical arts (you could use some more specialized organs and a few more arms for one), your mind is still sharp enough to wrestle with the theory, your body hardy and agile enough to handle whatever is thrown at it. You look through the list of ingredients again and notice several items that were missing from the grand presentation. Most appear trivial to obtain compared to the headliners, things like ten pounds of rock from any source, the feathers of a predatory bird, kindling and the like and you surmise that this would be the reason they went unmentioned. Still, you make a mental note of these basic materials for your future dallying with magic. Much the same as you need salt and water for baking, arcana has its own variety of spice and dough. One component on this expanded list looks to have been scratched out. Prayers of the Faithful. It makes sense you suppose, that a divinity would use faith aspected mana to fuel their miracles, and that a god without followers would just have to make do without it. A tiny part of you might feel a little bit snubbed that your own faith apparently doesn't count, or is not enough to make a difference. Is that a hint of Pride, showing up as shame, that you are not more worthy? Or is it guilt heralding from Greed, a fear that you cannot as of yet overcome? You shrug and head out, in search of crystals pure. As it so happens you take not two paces before you realise you are already surrounded by them. The lightly luminescent cavern walls are brimming with veins of naturally occurring, magically transmuted crystals of elemental earth and nature, formed over aeons by proximity to the Font. Forcing your claws into the soft earth, you rip out a chunk to observe it more closely.  Each such crystal holds an ample supply of earth or nature aspected mana, and can be drained and refilled with the right ritual implements, to act as a battery or storage system for spells that require more than what any one practitioner of the Art can hold within themselves, enabling greater works to be performed. They are especially useful when said arcanist is on the road and away from any great wellsprings or natural occurring sources of mana, though the pace at which they can be siphoned from is generally considered to be too slow for modern combat, which is why the warlock on the go prefers a combination of potions and wands – still, without crystals such as these, said wands and potions could not be made to begin with, making them a valued asset indeed. You grab an armful and mark a promising section of the cavern wall for excavating later, trusting that the hoggoblins will figure it out, somehow, and not damage the valuable crystals overly. --- Heading out to the ship you rummage around on board for any items that could be linked to your pursuers, and find several candidates. Beyond the staff and the alchemist lab (the owner of which is now deceased and thus useless for the rituals purpose) – there are several locked cabins aboard that belong to your still living pursuers, which you can force open without issue, since you are now roughly human-sized and also as strong as a rat. A human-sized rat with appropriately scaled muscles and, if worse comes to worst, a human-sized rat jaw to just eat through the wall with. The first cabin contains a simple bunkbed, a bookshelf containing three to-you-as-of-yet-unreadable normal books, from the lack of pictures you assume them to be academic texts of some especially dry subject, as histories would at least have maps, two sets of human-sized clothing in a style you do not recognize and, under the mattress, an old and folded letter. Score! (Sadly, it is also unreadable) The second cabin contains, surprise, a simple bunkbed, a bookshelf devoid of books and a small desk. Unlike the other cabins this one looks a lot more lived in. Clothes are thrown across the floor, scrolls line the desk in various states of being written or read and there is a small painting on a small bed-side table. A portrait of an otherwise unremarkable mortal. Probably human? The style of clothing is foreign to your senses, but they look reasonably well kept and high quality. Then again why would you (hire someone to) paint someone to look scruffy? You snatch it in either case and move on. The third and final cabin has only a single bed, but the bookcase is filled with neatly ordered tomes. Heavy with iconography, you can immediately tell they are religious in nature even if you cannot read the words. A lot of bright circles, golden discs, fire and illuminating beams. Whoever slept here worshipped the sun in some manner. Isn’t that Lord AK-UT-EN’s domain? He’d want to have a look at these for sure. Besides the books there are neatly folded vestments and an extra pair of plain white robes, such as might be worn by a cleric of essentially any good-aligned religion. Neutral and evil religions tend to favour darker robes in your experience, as they are less prone to highlight the inevitable stains. Satisfied with your collection, you grab an amphora from the cargo-hold and go look for the closest blessed spring. Which just so happens is the very lake you parked your boat on. How convenient! You reach down from the shore to fill your vessel and reel back as soon as your paws touch the waters surface, as if you have suddenly been set on fire, because you have.  You scream and flail, you are melting! “Begone demon! Get back in the pit with ye, foulspawn!” and things had been going so well, before those wretched villagers stormed your Dark Citadel led by that irksome priest. Your army of skeletons were turned at the gates, your pet pit fiend smote in his own chasm and now here she was, surrounded by a radiant light that burned worse than pitch and lye and whatever else your chief torturer would have on hand. You raised your ludicrous direaxe only to have it sundered in your hands. You try to curse but a wicked silence falls across your lips as they are stitched shut by holy runes. You make a feeble attempt to stab at her heart, but you wither, you boil, you turn to ash.  ~ You wake up back in the cavern, arm bandaged with leaves, to a hoggoblin licking your face. You briefly consider going back for a bath before sighing deeply and pushing it to the side. It happily skips over to your amphora, which is being carried by two other hoggoblins who look utterly, intolerably pleased with themselves. They wag their little hoggy tails. “We gotsa ratboss out of splishy splash! Kehehehe. How silly of it to play in firewater! ‘Oh it burns it burns!’ it say, Kehehehe. Aie! Aie!” Well that explains that. Mental note: Be sure to double check exactly which religion considers something sacred before sticking your hand in it. You might not be infernally aligned at the moment, but neither is your official deity some paragon of virtue. You head of to prepare the sigils – a task that takes considerably longer with only one good arm to work with... 1: The wound will heal in time, but will hinder you in every task until it does. How do you deal with it? A: Tough it out, you’ve had worse. B: Stick some crystals in it. What’s the worst that could happen? C: Ask your boss for some Harm. You aren’t really sure if you count as living or undead at the moment, but Lord AK-UT-EN should be able to sort you out regardless. Is it worth the loss in stature though, or the favour owed? D: Cut it off. Cauterize with fire. You don’t tolerate weakness, even out of yourself. --- Finishing the ritual space takes the rest of the day and most of the following night. The instructions leave no room for error, requiring maximum mental and physical effort to even attempt and with your useless arm, you are forced to restart the whole process at least twice as some intricate rune had one one of its component glyph misrendered, resulting in discordant gibberish instead of the repetitive chanting the spell requires. Still, eventually the cavern is filled with an ambience even you can appreciate – sinister whispers, elongated shadows and flickering balefire in a pleasant puke green. Lord AK-UT-EN enters, pleased with your progress and takes his place by the dias (a big rock sat on its short end, you didn’t have time for anything fancy that could also withstand the sigils) and begins weaving his will into the Real.  And through that vortex you see a vision forming, a village not far from here. Ships of all sizes line it's harbour and many fancy flags flap in fellowship atop masts and points of prominence. The focus shifts to make one building stand out amongst the others. A tavern by the looks of things. A well lit and cosy interior filled with tables, people and food. In the corner booth sits a party of five. One, male, obviously a warrior. A shiny breastplate over fine leather armour. Not a speck of dust upon him. A youth, barely grown into his beard. Sword by his side. It looks sharp and heavy. Another, female, with features similar to the first. Same leather armour but lacking the metal additions. Shortbow across the back, as well as a shield and hammer. Are they related? Another, an elf. You recognize it's kind anywhere. Slender, pale, almost translucent. White robes, plain. The only outstanding detail, a golden disc that hangs from a chain around it's neck. It is engraved with thin wavy lines in concentric circles. Classic sun symbol. Lord AK-UT-EN tut tut tuts. Another elf, stockier than the first. Clad in bright, vibrant cloth with a mass of patterns that defy coherency. The spell helpfully highlights the many, many daggers hidden about the costume. Even their hat qualifies as a bladed weapon. Lastly, someone dressed in the manner of an almost stereotypically blatant pirate captain. Complete with parrot with matching bandana and a metal feather on one of its wings. The cutlass they wave about as they talk gives of a strong aura of enchantment, as does several other, more inconspicuous accessories, such as an erring and, if you are making the vision out correctly between their mouthfuls of chicken leg and lively chatter, one of the pirates teeth. Lord AK-UT-EN motions with his rod and the vision shifts to an even tighter aperture. The whispers cease and the torches flicker. A voice rings out across the chamber, dead and thirsting as an ethereal skeleton manifests to mock the living with it's breathless mimicry.  'ded, that ye taketht the jungle eastward for three days travel, keeping together, to parlay with the Spirits therein.' ~ the voice matches the lip movements of the captain even if the cadence does not. 'what manner of spirits are these, then? More agelost spectres best left to their slumbers?' ~ from the white robed elf. 'Nay, they be Thanes, most humbled by the everlights faithful treetoppers and more powerful for it. Be watchful of the sluggish more so than the sudden in forests old as this. Though the cycle carries both predator and prey, tis but the wily whom may stride with leisure that neither side sniff out ties weakness. ' the captain, again. “Cease with these distractors! They must be halfway to Greenfields by now, we must take flight, suvey the seas!” - one or both of the humans together, the angle makes it unclear which. “Far more likely they went upstream, towards the Castrum?” - the fool. “Ye have as little clue now as then. Thanes will know what happens in their forest. Their beaches themselves. Alonesome ye’ll split asunder like a shippe in a storm, to be et by the dark an’ the brine. Now turn in or get out, an’ fin’ me my vessel!” At this final exclamation from the captain, the party descends into rapid, incoherent arguing, their half whispered far-off voices mingling and forming strange new echoes all about the two of you, warping together with the floating imagery until all that remains are burnt out crystals falling to the ground like rain. “Hmm. They are close, but have yet to find us. We have time, still, to prepare. I will consider what we have learned and devise a Scheme. I leave the details of our defensive strategies to you, but do not neglect your other tasks. Every step forward is another cog in the machine of my Great Work. You will see it to completion.” --- 2: How will you handle the adventuring parties planned scouting mission? E: Order the hoggoblins to hide the cavern entrance and hope for the best. F: Attempt to intercept them before they reach wherever they are going, and plan from there. G: Persuade Lord AK-UT-EN to flee this place before it is too late. H: Instruct the hoggoblins to start work on a proper dungeon for the inevitable clash. I: Forget the dungeon, you don’t have time. Just build a bunch of traps! J: Attempt to strike at these supposed ‘thanes’ in order to prevent the adventurers from learning your whereabouts from them. K: Something else? Write-in. 3: What task will you work on next? L: You will go beyond the jungle, seek the nearest mortal homesteads and take from them the lay of the world, by whatever means you can. O: You will, with swiftness and secrecy as your guiding light, scuttle the ship with all due haste and bring whatever you can salvage within the earth, leaving the rest to languish below the waters. P: You will, in your eagerness to safeguard My Return, unmoor the Ship and sail it out to sea, wrecking it three nights travel by the setting Sun. The storms will be fierce and the waves unruly and with no shore in sight your chances of survival, slim to none. I cannot guarantee your safety or success, but if you think you can manage it we would buy a great deal of time.
|
|
#
?
Jun 19, 2023 17:01
|
|
|
1B tiberium arm!! 2I 3O
|
|
#
?
Jun 19, 2023 17:16
|
|
|
1C: We are, technically, more competent than a Hoggoblin. Usually. Sometimes. ... Boss would prefer a function minion over a proud hobbled one, right now. 2K+3O: Don't just take the goods and scuttle the ship, get the hoggoblins to help strip the ship itself for parts to bolster the base. If the glyphs(?) on the wood were good enough for the boat, we can probably repurpose them to protect(?) the base.
|
|
#
?
Jun 19, 2023 18:43
|
|
|
1 B We know from the vibromancy book natural magics can be subverted to our ends, we should probably be able to influence the result. 2 I 3 O The hoggoblins can tear the ship apart to build traps. If their task overlaps with ours we could direct them more effectively, maybe even teach them a few things about guerilla tactics. We might not be able to get them to the same level as the infamous Tucker's Kobolds in a short amount of time but realistically all we need to do is safely eliminate one or two of these guys before they hit our actual forces and the rest should be easier.
|
|
#
?
Jun 19, 2023 20:03
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 29, 2024 10:14 |
|
|
B J O
|
|
#
?
Jun 19, 2023 21:04
|
|