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Serenity HP 12/19 | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 10/12 Telsen was hiding something, but at this point Serenity was beyond caring. They had a job to do. Whatever other problems were afoot could wait their turn. Even the issue with the Kerambit leaving didn't faze her. If it came down to it she'd walk, and either the breather would last long enough or it wouldn't. As the Triton's call sounded through the waves, Serenity reached back and hauled her blade from its sheath. Probably they were all trespassing in their rightful territory, and this rescue mission was an act of unwarranted aggression. But if the Tritons refused to make overtures for a peaceful resolution that was not on her head. Compromise was a two-way street, and she'd been consistently burned by trying to be the better person throughout this endeavor. Gunning the engine on her sled, she kicked it into gear and rocketed forward to meet the vanguard.
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Nov 23, 2016 01:57
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THE COUNTER-CHARGE The ESCO troopers share a moment’s glance between each other - can you believe this point-eared nut? - as Serenity rockets ahead to meet the onrushing triton charge square-on. “You lie!” Maria Francesca spits, sidearm-whipping a heavy blade like a machete through the water at the revenant’s request. “Aqualantis never abandons its own. We come for them. We fight! And then we win! KILL ‘EM ALL, BOYS!” she cries, her grating shout echoed instantly from the ESCO troopers on their heavy cargo sleds, and they too shoot forward to join the charge! In a trice the whole party is barreling forward at full speed, and the triton force soon comes into full view. The glaring spotlights of the sleds you ride on throw their forms into stark relief. The machete has the tags (close, 1-weight). Enjoy!  At the vanguard are five knights in tight formation, barreling forwards atop their hippocampus mounts - hooves in front, one massive finned fish-tail in back. Both rider and steed are armored in shaped pinkish-grey coral, and a lance tipped with more of the same is couched under each rider’s arm and leveled for the charge. On each rider’s back is slung a backup spear, and a vicious-looking shortsword rests at each of their hips. The riders’ wild kelp-green manes billow out in the whipping current of their passage: no braids for these five. From each hippocamp’s brow springs a darkly gleaming horn, identical to the broken-off barb that shattered the Alembic’s porthole and sealed the doom of Simmons. So that’s what really did it. Close behind them speeds a horde of wailing warriors fully armed - it’s hard to get an exact count on their numbers, but there’s at least two dozen of them coming at you. Some are bare-chested and heavily tattooed, their grey-green skin accentuated by swirling patterns of dull red or bluish-black - they grip a serrated knife in each hand and howl their war-cries with a mouth full of teeth filed to sharklike points. Others bear the same coral-tipped spears, breastplate and greaves as the knights, lacking only a steed to carry them. A few among them bear the same weighted nets you saw during the battle for the Alembic - it looks like there are about half as many net-bearers as there are fighters of the other types. Last, nearly hidden by the flashing bodies of the triton force, there seem to be a few slim forms carrying quivers of resin-tipped throwing spears - the same kind that might have dragged Serenity to a watery grave were it not for the revenant Veacheslav’s void-edged letter openers. But the last thing these tritons were expecting was a counter-charge - for a force they comfortably outnumber not to flee like prey, but to turn tail and charge right into their teeth! The sleds’ glaring spotlights strike the onrushing force right in their collective faces - you see more than a few of them, and even one of the knights, turn their faces aside from the charge to shield their eyes with a forearm or the shaft of a spear! Serenity’s right at the vanguard as the two charging forces close the last few feet separating them - now, while they’re dazzled by the light and rattled by your near-suicidal bravado - now is the time to strike! Serenity: take +1 forward to Hack and Slash! Everybody: what do you do?     
Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 04:13 on Dec 10, 2016 |
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Nov 25, 2016 01:29
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Serenity HP 12/19 | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 10/12 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ew3--XVFioU Serenity narrowed her eyes as the onrushing horde grew closer. She wagered that what experience the tritons had in fighting 'surface dwellers' would have left them with the assumption that they were incapable of fully utilizing three dimensional space. A fair assessment. And if they were that cocksure, they wouldn't see this coming. Gunning the engine the elf hurtled headlong towards the five forward knights. As they came to grips with the sight of the seemingly suicidal elf coming right for them and readied their lances, Serenity wrenched the controls and veered violently parallel to their line, kicking up a massive current in the hopes of throwing them off balance. In the same motion, she drove the vehicle down into a loop and came up behind them, blade arced back ready to fly. Defy Danger (+Dex): 2d6+1 9 Hack & Slash (+Dex): 2d6+1+1 9 Damage: 1d6 5 (1 piercing)
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Nov 25, 2016 02:13
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Slava 20/24 HP; Level 5, 12/12 XP; 1/2 Armor I catch up to the youth, now emboldened by religious zeal still hot from being recently forged, and fight by her side with my "crowd control" art and warding. Staying near enough to her for the sphere to protect her will be my priority. After killing everything. Flawless bladework: 2d6+3 13 Mirage: You create illusions of yourself that strike additional enemies near your target. Illusions deal your damage but do not apply any techniques. Warding: Your attack creates a ring of light around you and your target that other creatures (and their projectiles) cannot cross. Machete damage: 1d8 1 Unfortunately the machete my quarry tossed me is pathetically dull. It and my parrying dagger will have to switch roles, I think.
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Nov 25, 2016 03:37
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SERENITY AND SLAVA Serenity, you haul hard on the sled's controls, slewing it into a hairpin turn at the last possible moment - the propeller's current slams into the charging knights like a weighted curtain carried by a gale-force gust of wind! They snatch up their mounts' reins and hang on tight, veering off in several directions as your wake strikes them - except for that unlucky rider who took one hand off the reins to shield his eyes from your vehicle's spotlight. That one's mount spooks as the wake strikes him - he reels in the saddle and almost falls! You wrench the sled around again, straining to keep control over your mount yourself, gun the throttle, and bring your dueling blade up in a sidearm chop! The triton knight brings his lance to bear as you close the distance - his hippocamp tosses its head wildly, eyes rolling in panic - and electric agony flares all down your left thigh as the sharpened coral lance gouges a bloody furrow, slicing through skin and muscle from your knee to your hip! But now you're inside his range, and the mount is too panicked to bring its hooves or horn against you - the shock nearly jars your arm from its socket, but elf-made steel and manmade engines are more than a match for coral barding and horse-flesh. You chop right through the beast's gorget and slice its throat wide open - a gaping, mortal wound! You pulled off some real sick moves, but choose one: lose control of your personnel sled and watch it go off without a rider, or lose hold of your sword and watch it fall out of the dueling circle! Either way, you take Slava, you prepare your arcane bladework as Serenity slaughters the knight's mount with a single blow - as the hippocamp dies, you strike hard with a spinning, whipping overhand chop right into the rider's chest! A ring of light spreads from your borrowed machete's tip as the blow strikes home, expanding into a softly gleaming dueling-bubble - ghostly phantoms erupt from your body too, to execute identical strikes against the other four knights - but not a single one bites flesh. Evidently whatever craftsman shaped those knights' coral breastplates was more concerned with the life of the rider than that of the mount - your sword and its phantoms chop deeply into the stone-like material, but all you've done is wind those knights, nothing more.   The circle closes, and dull blots of light flash as triton warriors hurtle into its perimeter and rebound - you and Serenity slow to a relative halt, lest you charge right out of its protective confines and into the teeth of a hungry horde. Her leg is wickedly gashed, but whatever goddess protects fools and bards has guided that triton's lance away from the deep arteries - it's a serious wound, make no mistake, but not a fatal one. The hippocamp's twitching corpse sinks out of sight as its rider kicks free and drops his bloodied lance, unsheathing his shortsword and holding it at the guard. His eyes dart from yours to hers to the perimeter of the circle - he makes a low clacking noise in his throat as he feints from side to side, seeking an opening... Your foe is unharmed but on his guard, and knows he's at a disadvantage. What do you do? STATHIS AND NORI Stathis, Serenity pulls off some wicked aquabatics to evade the knights at the vanguard - you see her slice the throat of a hippocampus wide open before Slava darts in on his own personnel sled, spinning out that magical dueling circle of his. The bubble of light expands and solidifies, catching the two elves and the unhorsed knight inside it - the rest of the triton force is moving too fast to get entirely out of the way in time, and several fighters crash right into it and bounce off with dull flashes of light, stunned. No doubt their heads will clear in a few moments, but right now, they're drifting and completely vulnerable. Shame they're so far away from your tender claws - and shame, too, that you just might be too busy with the tritons now speeding right at you to take advantage! There's six of them coming at you, one with spear and coral armor, four with knives, one with a weighted net. Let them give chase, or stand your ground and fight - but you'd better not do nothing if you want to keep your hide un-perforated! if you want to get a shot of black magic off at the stunned tritons, Defy Danger +DEX first - you'll need to evade their teeth and stay on the move to avoid being caught vulnerable while you cast! Area attacks in this soon-to-be chaotic melee, unless you target them well away from the ESCO forces (like those stunned tritons are), may result in friendly fire or collateral damage on a 7-9. What do you do? Nori, their fatal charge has been blunted, but the tritons are far from broken. The four knights still ahorse were forced to swerve, but they're regrouping swiftly, this time into two pairs, and preparing for another charge. The warriors swarm round the revenant's dueling circle and churn the water white with their finned legs as they hurtle on, unrelenting war-cries bursting from dozens of throats - they're coming, one and all, and they've a weight of numbers on their side heavy enough to outnumber every man among you! Maria Francesca raises her weapon and barks an order into the assault suits' short-range comms - the troopers raise their pain rays and fire! Crackling bolts of dull red energy spring from the muzzles, and where they strike home, tritons spasm and jerk, immobilized by focused agony. But there's only so many marksmen among the ESCO forces, and far too many tritons to keep pinned down by fire - in moments they'll be swarmed, and what use their weapons then when every man or woman aboard their sleds are outnumbered four to one? For that matter, what use your weapons against the five tritons now speeding towards you - one already spinning out his weighted net, two readying their spears to gaff you off your sled, two more with knives at the ready to tear your tender flesh. What use, indeed? You're about to find out! This is what you might call a target-rich environment. What do you do? Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 00:43 on Nov 26, 2016 |
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Nov 26, 2016 00:34
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Nori 23/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 1/10 It's times like this, imminent death, that the oddest thoughts enter your mind. Why the everloving gently caress...won't regular old guns work underwater? I was left virtually helpless last time. If this is round 2, I came prepared this time. I pull the ancient blade, the one I took from 01's corpse, and grip it in just the right way to trigger the contacts that activate it. The edge begins to glow its dim deathly blue, and I can feel micro tremors pulsing down the length of the weapon. I brace myself against my seat, and settle on my target. A knight on his mount, slightly out of formation, slightly too close... Hack & Slash 9 damage 3 I barely felt the shock as the sword sliced into the Triton's flesh, whatever science or magic made this thing, like 01, was some truly wicked poo poo. It's certainly not as flashy as literally swimming through a triton's mount and disappearing into the abyss with their leader...but I'll take it.
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Nov 26, 2016 06:23
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Serenity HP 6/19 | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 10/12 The sting of the wound did not register in her mind, only cold anger as she saw her blade fall away into the lightless depths below. Gritting her teeth, Serenity hit the throttle and wheeled about in the tight circle, chanting quietly as she summoned up her magics. Hauling her weight back, she forced the vehicle into a tighter spin, whirling faster and faster. She let go with one hand, half flying off the vehicle as she rode it like an unbroken horse, her own peculiar sort of dance. Arcane Art: 2d6+3 9 Healing Slava: 2d8 3 The next time someone successfully assists Slava with aid, he gets +2 instead of +1
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Nov 26, 2016 23:10
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Slava 23/24 HP; Level 5, 12/12 XP; 1/2 Armor I draw my other dagger with two fingers and toss it to the bard, "Take this, and stay behind me..." It appears that this machete regrettably must remain my cutting edge, since my enemy has drawn a weapon longer than my main gauche. Very well! These tritons love water, let them swim against a current of blades! I would slice through my opponent and move on to the next, striking out with my doubles and refreshing my ward. Flawless bladework: 2d6+3 9 damage: 1d8 8  Mirage You create illusions of yourself that strike additional enemies near your target. Illusions deal your damage but do not apply any techniques. Flowing If your attack kills a target, you may immediately attack a new target as if you had gotten a 7-9 on the move you initially used. Warding Your attack creates a ring of light around you and your target that other creatures (and their projectiles) cannot cross. slydingdoor fucked around with this message at 03:14 on Nov 27, 2016 |
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Nov 27, 2016 00:45
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Serenity HP 6/19 | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 10/12 Serenity's eyes caught Slava's and her hand darted out to snatch the blade as her ride hurled her about with a carefully controlled lack of control. A final pirouette as she repeated her earlier maneuver, caroming past the triton and nearly taking his face off. He was thrown off kilter from the wake of the sled, and Serenity let the vehicle slow and her mind time to catch up with her reflexes. Aid Slava: 2d6+2 9 Slava gets an 11 total to that Bladework
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Nov 27, 2016 00:52
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Stathis Argyle HP 14/18 | Armor 1 | XP 3/11 | Load 6/6 Despite his Defy Danger (+Dex): 2d6+2 5 Nope.
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Nov 27, 2016 21:29
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THE WAR-CRUSH  click for bgm Slava, your opponent’s hesitation proves to be his undoing - he feints twice, but you anticipate his third feint and you’re ready when he makes his move, rushing swiftly to interpose your sled between her bleeding form and the hurled shaft of his spear - it caroms harmlessly off the sled’s armored flank as you charge in for the kill, slamming the brakes on and leaping from its footrests just as Serenity roars past a foot from his head. His head lolls, stunned - you seize the moment at once, and hammer your main-gauche into the soft bone behind his ear. His soul gushes from his slumping corpse like foam from a shaken beer can pierced with a pin - a hot rush of rich red violence to feed the soul-hunger even now gnawing at your stomach. The ward-circle cracks, and your phantoms rush out as it does - each finds its mark, barely-seen grey rags of mist rushing outward, to solidify into a smoky copy of yourself, raising a phantasmal weapon and ending the lives of four other fighters. The two stunned ones die - serves them right for thinking they could violate the sanctity of a duel. You send the other two at the beleaguered ESCO troopers - two more tritons die just as they were about to cast their weighted nets and haul a couple hapless dust-souls off to their sticky end, hacked across an unarmored shoulder or hip by a phantom machete.  The ward-magic is still hovering ready in the water, ready to re-solidify - your victim’s violent death gave it the strength to persist. But it must be guided quickly - and everywhere, your comrades are in dire danger. The drider is being swarmed like a side of beef, Nori’s stuck in an unfavorable melee with a pair of knights and a swarm of her own, and it looks like your bardic ward has sprouted another weapon in her back. And that’s not even mentioning the running skirmish ESCO is slowly losing... Challenger Defeated. Name your next target, or let the ward dissipate and fight without dueling. What do you do? Stathis, you hope for the best, and chant the words of a fire-spell as fast as the syllables will slip your tongue - but it’s not fast enough! You drop a fricative two-thirds of the way through, and by the time you have your thoughts together they’re already upon you! Desperately, you haul on the sled’s controls, slewing it around to escape their onrush - but it’s too late!  They’re all over you, swarming and stabbing and sawing with their knives from every direction - above, behind, on every side. The one with the net doesn’t even bother casting it - when he sees the brand of Xanthonautes tucked through a strap of your clothing, he draws a knife and joins in with all the rest, a full half-dozen tritons claw-mad to win glory through a killing blow on one who took a trophy from their kin. Your carapace is hard and sturdy, but as you struggle to escape from the tritons’ swarming fury, pain begins to flare as their weapons strike home: the tear of filed teeth at your vulnerable leg joints and the sharp needles of stab wounds. You’re the largest target in their sight, far too easy to gang up on in three dimensions - horrid agony makes your vision go hazy and grey as the armored one takes aim and punches a spear right through the soft chitin of your abdomen... Six of them all in melee range and spoiling for a fight means you take Serenity, you let off the throttle, coasting in a slow, graceful arc as the revenant’s ward-circle dissipates. The brunt of the tritons’ charge has bypassed you and Slava both - they swarmed right past the bubble and went on to overwhelm the Aqualanteans, and Stathis too. As you take the scene in, you feel a little sting between your shoulder blades, a hot, itching little irritation. Your eyes start to water, then, unbidden, to well tears - twisting to examine the source of the pain, you see a pair of slim fishy forms flip their tails and arc away from you, angling out away from the flashing lights of the surface-born. A dart, its tip smeared with something sticky and white, is embedded in the fleshy part of your upper back. So the tritons brought a rearguard. A small, stealthy force to strike opportunistically, darting in from the dark and planting some sinister toxin on the isolated and the weak. Your heart is speeding up, beating in flutters, and not just because you’re still losing blood from the wound in your leg… You have been poisoned! With serpent’s tears!  Anyone dealing you damage rolls twice, and takes the better result, until you can cure the poison. Your Bardic Lore also applies here: you can ask me any one question about the substance you’ve been poisoned with, and I’ll answer truthfully. You don’t see any fighters coming for you, but you know the rearguard is out there somewhere, and you’re mostly isolated from the party - only Slava is nearby, and he may not stay that way for long. Stathis is the next closest; him and ESCO are both near you, and Nori is far away after going for that knight out of formation. What do you do?Nori, the mounted triton raises his weapon to parry your strike, but the ancient blade you bear slices through the lance’s shaft as easily as a leaf through air - the knight recoils, and the severed stumps of three fishy fingers go swirling off into the blood-tinged sea along with the head of his lance! But in the same moment his companion springs fully armed to his defense - from the side the hippocampus and its rider charge your personnel sled head-on, smashing full force into the craft’s side and shunting your direction of travel away from the maimed knight, directly into the bubble-field! You’ve hurt him, but as they beat the water and loop away in formation, it looks like you’ll have to circle around or isolate yourself if you want another go - and you may not get that chance… ...at least, not unless you wish to abandon your countrymen to a grim fate. They’re sorely beset by triton forces - the two cargo sleds the ESCO troopers ride are under assault by nearly a dozen fishy forms. They fire their pain rays with military precision - but for every triton stopped in its tracks by spasming bursts of pain, there’s three more to take up the onslaught while the fourth recovers. Even as you watch, a desperate trooper fires shot after shot into the wailing mass before one of the tattooed ones gets close enough to seize him by the ankles - two more rip the weapon from his hand as their comrades block the panic fire with their own bodies, and a fourth casts out a weighted net, snaring him from head to hip and tearing him from the saddle. After that it’s all over but the thrashing and bleeding - the dozens of stab wounds on his corpse stain the water red. Maria Francesca leaps into the dead man’s seat at once with a burst from her thruster pack, drawing a bayonet from her boot and affixing it to the end of her weapon. “ALL HANDS, TO ME!” she yells over the all-hands channel, lunging like an eel to spear and shoot anyone that gets too close. “STAY CLOSE! WE CAN LOSE THEM IN THE FIELD! STAY TOGETHER!” The other cargo sled changes course, rolling upside down and coming belly-on right next to the sled Maria rides, its freight of four troopers adding their weight of fire to the defense. As one, the troopers gun the turbines and shoot forward, a dozen-ish warriors hard on their heels, soon to reach the nearest edge of that vast field of bubble-white water. But you’ve got your own group of fighters to deal with too - while you made your swift lunge against the knight, the five who targeted you in the initial charge swam round and now they’re right in front of you - the other knight shunted your course deliberately into their path! Knives and spears bristle, and the fifth holds his net ready in both hands. This sled’s not agile enough to avoid an interception, not when they’re so close: you’ll have to break through their lines if you wish to reach the ESCO forces! You can get past their lines if you just gun the throttle and bull through as fast as you can, but you have to Defy Danger somehow if you want to do anything other than Defend yourself as you go through. The knights are preparing for another charge - if you get bogged down in their lines you’ll be at risk of being hit by it! Or, you could turn tail and go to Stathis' aid without needing to Defy Danger at all. What do you do? Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 05:15 on Nov 28, 2016 |
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Nov 28, 2016 04:18
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Stathis Argyle HP 5/18 | Armor 1 | XP 4/11 | Load 6/6 Their reward, a pained smile and a coating of my blood. Vicious grins as they think they've won, a skewered spider already dead, just doesn't realize it. Then a single utterance, echoing through the water, the language of the elements transcending medium. "Reth." Though the Accord of Kalimag prevents transmuting one element to another, blood is not an element, and these piranha have greedily pulled more than their fair share from it. Now the blood burns merrily away, the water drowning out their pained screams as it fails to drown out the flames. Black Magic (+Cha): 2d6+3 14 Hand, Fire, Area Black Magic Damage: 1d8-2 5 ArkInBlack fucked around with this message at 01:25 on Nov 29, 2016 |
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Nov 28, 2016 05:50
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Nori 23/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 1/10 I notice the little blockade in front of me and slam the throttle of the sled to maximum. Ramming speed. Just before impact, I push off from my vehicle and engage the thruster pack I'd been given onboard the Kerambit. Volley 7 reducing ammo, which is the sled itself, as established. I redline the thruster-pack, burning it out to get me on course to help Stathis. Defy Danger 13 I rocket through the water at incredible speed until I hear a muffled pop, and start drifting in towards where Stathis has just...somehow...lit the tritons on...fire? I coast up to the nearest of the struggling mermen and strike out with my sword. Hack & Slash 9 damage 11 The ancient, blue edged, blade whips through them. Snicker-snack.
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Nov 28, 2016 09:23
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Serenity HP 6/19 | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 10/12 Bardic Lore: When was the last time Serenity used Serpent's Tears recreationally and what were the consequences? Wincing, Serenity reached back and yanked the dart from her spine. She could feel the venom already coursing through her. Colors grew more vivid, and her heart beat faster. It was like the exact opposite of the oxygen deprivation she had suffered earlier. It was Serpent's Tears for certain; her nerves would be on fire soon. Usually a recipe for a good time, but not when people were trying to kill you. Every sensation would be amped up incredibly, and wounds were apt to bleed more freely. Clever, sadistic bastards. Tucking the knife in her boot, Serenity clenched the dart in one hand and wheeled the sled about, taking in the battle. There was Nori, and there was Stathis. Unmistakably, it was Stathis. The glow about him meant his ire was up. The drider was usually pretty collected, but when things got nasty he was entirely willing to rise to the occasion. Judging by the fact that he was literally on fire, he was rising admirably. She kicked the vehicle into motion and set out to join up with him, veering past ally and enemy alike. Catching his eye, she held up the dart and let it go, making a curt hand sign indicating poison. He'd taught her some of the basic battle signs back in the day, and while it didn't come in useful often, it was a boon now that speech was off the table. Quickly drawing Slava's blade she took up a flanking position to guard his blind spots, lashing out artfully to intercept the occasional probing feint against her from their opponents. Even in unsuitable environments you could not beat an elf with a blade in the realm of aesthetics and grace. She quietly chanted her catechisms as she did so, imbuing her companion with renewed strength. Arcane Art: 2d6+3 9 Healing Stathis: 2d8 7 Stathis also gains +1d4 forward to damage
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Nov 29, 2016 02:07
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Slava 23/24 HP; Level 5, 12/12 XP; 1/2 Armor Grouped together as they are, my ward would do nothing to help my colleagues. All our foes would be in it with us as well. So I help save Maria until she outlives her usefulness, and to draw some fire for once. It can grow tedious to slaughter placid, useless prey. hurricane slash: 2d6+3 8 damage: 1d8 2 On a 7-9, deal your damage, apply one technique, and choose one of the following: –You have to move to get a clear shot, placing you in danger. Mirage: You create illusions of yourself that strike additional enemies near your target. Illusions deal your damage but do not apply any techniques.
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Dec 1, 2016 01:27
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STATHIS Reth. That’s all it takes to trigger the spell, your last-ditch contingency measure for a warmage caught in close-quarters combat with no exfil in sight - that, and your awful comprehension of that Word which separates the heat of the body’s life from the heat of that sustaining Flame which is its vivifier. Your vision blacks out for an instant, replaced by a whirling vortex of bloody-black fractal tentacles - and the blood in the water, impossibly, is kindled to the burning point. In atmosphere, the Word would have traveled four times slower - slow enough for its influence on the world around you to form a visible shock-front, a filthy yellow-brown belch of consuming flame that reduces a drider’s assailants - and, not uncommonly for one new-hatched, unfocused, or insufficiently strong-willed, the drider as well, into mewling cinders, flash-burned over every inch of their exposed skin. But not here. No, what happens to them is far worse. It begins in their gills, where the hot lifesblood runs closest to the medium in which that awful Word moves. So rapid is its travel through the blood-swirled waters that its influence touches each part of the volume it can reach almost simultaneously - fast enough for the Word’s transmutative effect to stabilize, and grow, and penetrate through to the bloodstream itself like a wildfire through forest litter buried much too deep. One by one, the tritons’ gill-slits glow a sullen dark yellow - then their fins, their scalp, their very eyes - they roast alive from the inside out, foaming and jerking, as the power of Reth kindles their blood to coursing flame. The water itself seems to burn as the Word is uttered. Mercifully, their cries of agony are too high-pitched for your ears to perceive. Your myriad stab-wounds sear shut, the influence of Reth held rigidly outside your own body by sheer force of will as its utterance echoes through the waters, fading, gone. Serenity’s healing music reaches deep into you, coaxing torn muscle to knit together and leaking organs to become whole again. The pain doesn’t quite ebb away, though - and while you might have saved yourself from becoming chum, the fates of ESCO and of your companions are not yet so certain... What do you do? SERENITY Clever in truth. Serpent’s tears makes a marvelous party drug under the right circumstances - it heightens the senses and stimulates the heart, but it’s more often taken for its effects on the mind. It opens up channels of communication, sensitizes the emotions, and heightens one’s senses of empathy and connectedness. Which is just exactly what Alice had wanted, on that ill-fated snowy night. She thought it would bring you two closer together. That you each could open to the other, and see each other for what you really are, and know it to be true, and love one another the greater for it. Her father was too busy running the Thieves’ Guild to really care what his daughter got up to, but he had connections, and those connections had connections, and you were young, and infatuated, and blithely careless of consequence like only a rootless elf can be. It was a bad time. To put it lightly. You were much younger then - still barely out of childhood by your peoples’ standards, some years yet before Maximilian came into your life - and you knew in your heart of hearts that this, to you, was just a mutually hormone-drenched fling. You thought you could hide it, keep it away from her and, sometime soon, let her down nice and easy. The serpent’s tears had other ideas. And - how could you possibly have guessed? - when you come into a lonely girl’s life and show her kindness and affection, shower her in warmth and the joys of the body - she’s probably going to fall madly in love with you, unfeigned, honest, and true. You two spent that entire night locked in a mutual spiral of anxiety and self-recrimination, clinging tearful tight to one another, each unable to look away from all the parts of yourselves you most despised. Each unable to look away from the darkness in the other, unable to deny it or give it comfort. The relationship didn’t last very long after that. Now that same drug courses through your veins, that same uncontrollable empathy beginning to rise in you as the tritons begin to die. You can feel their agony and shock, their battle-lust broken and turned to foaming horror as their blood kindles to sickening flame. This is what your people are capable of. This is the magical might that dominated the known world for centuries, that extracted fawning tribute from the subjugated after each victorious Elvenwar, that justifies all your government’s most appalling acts. You’ve grown used to war and pain over the decades since you and Alice - who hasn’t? - but here, in this strange battlefield, under the influence of this powerful drug...it turns your stomach to witness it anew. You can barely coax the healing notes from your throat, let alone parry the rearguard’s javelins hurtling out from the dark at your comrades, as the revenant Veacheslav casts his own deadly sorceries at the tritons mobbing the ESCO troops. Your wounded thigh is a solid bar of pain. Blood pumps from the shredded muscles, more weakly by the moment. And as your catechisms fade, a darker song begins to echo through the waters. From far away it comes, far from the lights of your machines - deep within the bubble-field, a swelling tide-song of rage and dispossession, of icy resolve and bitter determination is rising. From three different throats it rises, each chord and melody passing from singer to singer in a complex and many-layered round. Its echoes are not dying away but building upon themselves, reflecting and re-reflecting, enfolding the battlefield in a cathedral of sound - and you, as the serpent’s tears sink their teeth into your emotions and begin to tug, can feel in frightful detail how that amorphous threat is growing with each passing moment... The triton tidecallers have entered the scene.  You’re losing a lot of blood from how badly Scarred you are, and the serpent’s tears aren’t helping one bit. In fact, you’re feeling pretty Weak and Sick right now from all the blood loss, and that’s on top of the psychological effects of being empathy-bombed in the middle of a war zone. That’s right, three debilities. What do you do? NORI You hit the metaphorical eject button and leap from your war-sled fully armed, watching as the careering vehicle plows head-on into the triton blockade and off into the bubble field! Fin-legged forms go flying in all directions, one coming a few hands-breadths from being minced by the sled’s propellor intake...but they recover from their tumble before too long and are soon stroking through the waves again, albeit with some obvious stiffness to their movements. They’re not beaten, not yet, but they’ll certainly think twice before they get in your way again. They took one damage from your Volley. You rocket through the water at top speed as a half-dozen triton warriors do their level best to turn Stathis into a pincushion, dodging the hurled javelins of the triton rearguard with quick-fingered bursts of vectored thrust...but by the time you’ve coasted to a stop nearby, your thruster pack’s fuel reserves totally exhausted, it looks like the drider has got this whole thing under control. His attackers are actually on fire somehow, impossibly, and so is the blood in the water around them - swirling and churning with a sickening brownish-yellow glow that has no place down here in the depths. There’s no possible way they can fight back as you carve through a screaming throat or pierce someone’s flaming heart - putting these tritons to the sword is a mercy compared to what Stathis did to them. Those tritons are very, very dead. Your thruster pack is also just a dead weight now - you can get rid of it, or keep it around on the off chance you can refuel later. You’re all four together now, but without your personnel sled you’ve got to hitch a ride on one of the other three vehicles as the party rushes to ESCO’s aid. Even with the casualties they’ve taken, the triton force remains unbroken - and without your extra weight of firepower to help beat the fishmen off, the troopers are not faring well against that swarming onslaught. The troopers’ pain rays are unsuited for all-out war - that weapon was never meant to kill - and it’s only Maria Francesca’s furious defense of her cargo sled that keeps the survivors on her sled alive. Even then, few of the troops escape injury - a knife-slash, a shallow spear-cut just barely dodged - as they work together to flee into the bubble-field, hoping against hope to reach the Hvalreki and bring their people home. The other sled, without the commanding officer to defend it, isn’t faring even half so well. As you and yours hurtle desperately on, you can but watch as another trooper is torn from the saddle by a weighted net and swarmed, reduced to a roiling cloud of red while his three comrades-in-arms fight for their very lives... And as you and yours rush to their defense, pushing the three sleds still in your hands to their limits, flights of deadly javelins whip through the waters from every side! The rearguard is staying nearby but out of range of sword or knife, as safe as they can hope to be: seeking to skewer some unlucky victim without putting themselves in too much danger. Serenity springs to the convoy’s defense despite her injuries, rushing from flank to flank with almost supernatural grace, turning aside their hurtling shafts with death-defying swipes of her borrowed machete - but she can’t be everywhere at once, and whatever sinister toxin has been introduced into her is beginning to take effect. When a finned form takes aim at your precarious perch and lets fly, she can’t get there to block it in time...and you, without your sled, you’ve got no way to dodge without letting go and leaving yourself even more vulnerable. The javelin’s narrow-bladed head slips through your guard and rips a nasty gash in your side - you feel the sharpened coral scrape horribly against your ribs! There’s little pain, only an awful numbing cold, colder than even the icy sea should feel against fresh-torn flesh, and a spreading weakness in your limbs and lungs...where’s that elf’s bodyguard when you need him?! You’ve been poisoned too! With bloodweed!  Whenever you deal damage, you deal -1d4 damage, until you can cure the poison.You also take SLAVA Fortunately, you’ve no shortage of fatal arts with which to cut down your enemies, whether they be at knifepoint or no. You lash out with your mind and knives as one - and blades of pure cutting force arc through the waters, trailing a thin wake of cavitation bubbles behind them! Where they strike home, deep cuts sprout - and triton warriors recoil, spilling guts from a slashed abdomen, clutching the gaping slash in their chest, or simply gone limp and twitching after the whole top half of their head is cleanly severed. The surviving troopers capitalize, pumping pain ray after pain ray into the wounded, until their bodies convulse and fall still, nerves overloaded by an excess of focused agony. But to loose your bladework without endangering your You take It won’t be long now - you’re all a mere dozen feet from the melee, and closing every moment. The tritons, seeing reinforcements rush to ESCO’s defence, raise a chorus of clacking cries through the water - as one, they break off their onslaught and spread out in a scattered sphere, watching warily for a fresh victim to fall upon; the three surviving net-bearers reel in their snares for another cast. Your sleds are less maneuverable than these tritons are, but you can build up a higher top speed than they can with enough lead time, and now you’re finally circled your wagons, given the defense some real teeth. You’ve cut the triton force’s numbers almost in half - but they’re not giving up yet, and the tripartite tidecallers’ song now rising from further ahead tells you they may yet have a few tricks up their sleeve. The bubble field looms close ahead - you’re about to enter it. And don’t forget the knights, either - while you all hurtled onwards, the four survivors of that elite force were regrouping for another charge...and here they come again! This time it’s from below, another full-on charge with horns and lances leveled right at the vulnerable underbellies of your personnel sleds - but hold on here, where’s #4? Where’s the fourth knight? There’s four hippocampoi but only three riders! You’ve got another target-rich environment here. What do you do?  EVERYBODY HERE! THEY! COME! Defy Danger somehow (I don’t care with which stat you do it, as long as it makes sense in the fiction), every single one of you, to avoid the triton knights’ deadly charge! 
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Dec 3, 2016 23:14
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Nori 18/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 1/10 | poisoned: bloodweed - when I deal dmg deal -1d4 Water-proof gun. Gonna find a waterproof gun, I swear. to. every. loving. god. No one can hear me, but I'm shrieking equal parts pants-making GBS threads terror, and steel-melting rage. I am beyond done with these loving fish. I raise my sword in one hand, the other maintaining a grip on the back of Serenity's seat. Let's dance fishfuckers. I start swinging the sword in large defensive arcs as we make contact. Defy Danger 10 I'l roll damage if you want, but tbh any damage I do is secondary to keeping me, and whoever else is close enough, from getting hit Error 404 fucked around with this message at 09:53 on Dec 4, 2016 |
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Dec 4, 2016 05:51
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Serenity HP 6/19 | Scarred, Weak, Sick | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 10/12 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPyV8k4q2go All Serenity could do was hug herself to the sled, shaking against it uncontrollably, and pray the knights would find their blows hitting the vehicle rather than herself. Or at least hit something non-vital. To fight or flee was beyond her as old memories, the pain in her and surrounding her and battering at her mind, and a black chorus from the depths all fought in unison to overwhelm her. Defy Danger...by enduring (+Con): 2d6 6 A brief bout of lucidity as the poison pumped through her heart and soul. Antanara had provided her means to stay in this battle. Serenity reached a shaky hand down to her unwounded thigh, fumbling for the case strapped there. She felt blindly for the latch, caught it, and tore one of the autoinjectors from its fastener. Given that shoddy DD roll, I'll leave it up to your discretion if Serenity is able to successfully administer the anti toxin Shardix fucked around with this message at 05:15 on Dec 5, 2016 |
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Dec 4, 2016 14:16
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Slava 23/24 HP; Level 5, 12/12 XP; 1/2 Armor Clinging and praying, ever the child–but I have no time to judge, for I am about to see the end of my ward. Neither she nor the mutant Nori are prepared for the charge, the only choice I see is to try to surprise the charging knights by crashing my sled into that of my allies. Chaos will be our shield. Aid Serenity: 2d6+2 8 DD int (chaos theory): 2d6+3 14 slydingdoor fucked around with this message at 05:16 on Dec 5, 2016 |
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Dec 5, 2016 05:14
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Nori 18/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 2/10 | poisoned: bloodweed - when I deal dmg deal -1d4 note: GM rolled a 6 for my Defend, I am holding 1 and marking xp per discord. So I'm using that hold to 'Redirect an attack from the thing you defend to yourself' to protect Serenity. Too much going on, too fast, I can't process it. shapes and shades obscured by bubbles great and small. "gently caress it." I snarl as I lean across Serenity, shielding her body with my own waiting for impact.
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Dec 5, 2016 06:23
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Stathis Argyle HP 12/18 | Armor 1 | XP 4/11 | Load 6/6 No time to ruminate on the ill-fated swarm's attempts on my life, the cavalry charge made it full clear it was time to reposition. As I launch myself away from the sled I wonder if I shouldn't have so readily abandoned the piece of tech. Well, I'll have time to regret switching to manual movements when this is over. Defy Danger (+Dex): 2d6+2 8 ArkInBlack fucked around with this message at 22:26 on Dec 5, 2016 |
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Dec 5, 2016 07:28
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SLAVA Thinking quickly, you haul your sled hard to starboard and leap from the saddle - it rams sidelong into the shared sled of Nori and Serenity, at just the right angle to bring the vehicle belly-on to the knights’ charge! Two of their hippocampoi steeds slam horn-deep right into the sheet metal of its underbelly, leaving a pair of ugly dents but stopping the beasts cold - their riders aren’t so lucky, and you watch with satisfaction as two triton knights, and their massive coral lances, go hurtling uselessly off into the blue! The third hippocampus, the riderless one, doesn’t even bother to press the assault, but spooks, rears (inasmuch as something can be said to rear, underwater), turns tail, and flees towards whatever it is that started singing out there in the bubble field just now. That just leaves knight number four. Your satisfaction melts into dismay as the last knight, reins gripped firmly in hand, bucks his mount, jukes the pair of tumbling hunks of steel, and terminates his charge right square through your godsdamn chest. You slide a full foot down the shaft of his lance before its glass-sharp coral edges wedge into your ribs and spine and halt the weapon’s plunge. He keeps whipping his steed on, too: carrying you away from the crash site, away from the bubble field, out into the darkness where his comrades lurk - shouting a harsh victory cry at what he thinks must surely be a tremendous coup. You took Unfortunately for him, you’re not dead. Merely…discomfited. A wound like this would likely be mortal for anyone with a beating heart - even considering the idiosyncratic anatomies of the other elves among you. But for one cursed by the Strigices with unlife eternal? It’s merely inconvenient and a little distressing. It’s rather hard to wield one’s knives, after all, if the nerves which enliven the arms of their wielder are severed - and that lance is stuck worryingly close to the important bits of your spinal cord… You’re impaled, alone in the dark with the knight and his horse, and being carried away from the party. You have an opening against him, though; and can void-edge your way off that lance without endangering yourself. What do you do?
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Dec 8, 2016 05:31
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Slava 17/24 HP; Level 5, 12/12 XP; 1/2 Armor My head snaps up and I look the triton in the eye, "You will pay... with your life." I take the machete and bisect the lance with a void-edge, then I sheathe the blade, dull without my magic, inside my half of the coral weapon. My new fang is formed, and I draw it from my body and point it at its former wielder. Right at their heart. The weapon oozes illusory blood in the water, black and malnourished as I have let myself become. I must feed. Flawless bladework: 2d6+3 11 nice Damage: 1d8 1 cmon. At least it's probably piercing 1, maybe +1 damage too? Burst: Your attack deals an additional 1d4 damage and gains the ‘forceful’ tag. Burst: 1d4 1 rip Soul-Siphoning: Your attack heals you for 1d4. Heal 1d8 instead if this attack kills your target. Soul-siphoning: 1d4 1 srs
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Dec 8, 2016 06:53
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NORI AND SERENITY Neither of you is in any state to make it through the tritons’ charge unscathed - certainly not Serenity, wracked with agony and suffering badly from the psychic pressure of the tidecaller’s song; certainly not Nori, too busy shielding the insensate elf with her own body to wield sword or knife against the tritons or their pseudoequine steeds. When the impact comes, it’s not the expected shock of coral lance-edge through vulnerable flesh - it’s instead a jarring, disorienting crash as Veacheslav deliberately rams into your shared vehicle! You’re both thrown from the saddle as the machines collide - the spotlights whirl and tilt dizzingly - a bare handful of seconds later, there’s a pair of heavy thuds, and two unhorsed knights go tumbling end-over-end into the blue. His spur-of-the-moment intervention may well have saved both your lives! But it hasn’t come without cost.. Serenity, your trembling hands can’t keep grip on that vial of precious antitoxin - it’s ripped from your grasp and lost as you’re knocked from the sled, and you hurtle off at an oblique angle, spinning wildly in three different directions at once! You can’t hardly tell up from down right now, but at least the crashed knights can’t either - even for one born to the ocean, a crash like that is bound to tumble anybody’s gyros for a little bit. Nori’s nearby, and she looks almost as shook up as you do right now - that fresh wound in her side ain’t pretty, but (unlike you) it’s not bleeding badly enough to really cripple her yet. It’s got a blob of some tarry black stuff smeared over it, and that’s helping to stanch the wound. And keep whatever that stuff is in close contact with her bloodstream. Has she been poisoned too? drat them. But take heart. Nashira hasn’t abandoned you. Even here - especially here. And Jaira - you can hear her still, the sound of her divinity constant through every turmoil. The case strapped to your thigh held strong, and the other two autoinjectors in its kit are still there, securely fastened. Even with your throbbing heart and burning lungs, your panting breath and trembling limbs, it’s within your grasp to tear out another one and slam it against your thigh - and O for the blessed sting of its needle at a time like this. The tidecallers’ song, if anything, has intensified since you crossed the boundary of the bubble-field. The tickling of those myriad little miniscule air pockets would almost feel good, if you weren’t in fear of your life right now - all the bubbles striking your skin feel as though they’re vibrating in concert with the tritons’ black sea-chorus. The melody rises and falls, swelling and crashing like the storm-torn sea, the singers’ rage and bitterness thundering through each and every note, echoes beyond counting...where in the world did they get such voices? It seems an enchantment is beginning to fall over your allies…  And yet, might not this awful experience be turned to a brighter cause? Your emotions are surging like the spring tide, running unfettered and unrestrained. You could use this. You have used this, once before - when last you took this drug. The music you and Alice made together on your final ill-fated night was so intimate, so freighted with your hearts’ joined anguish, that you’ve never given thought to raising your voice in song like that again. Let alone performing any of it. Now, with Veacheslav staked and carried away, victim of his own You lost your first dose, but you can successfully administer a replacement. If you dose yourself right now, you stop being Sick, and also stop being poisoned. If you embrace the poison and give in to your fey nature, you’ll stay Sick for a while longer, but you gain access to the move Eldritch Tones until you stop being poisoned. You have 2/3 uses of antitoxin left, and can administer a dose to yourself and/or Nori without needing to roll anything. What do you do? Nori, you dive across the shivering body of your companion, shielding her from a blow that never comes - a moment later that elf with the letter openers crashes his war-sled into yours and sends you both flying! What on Earth is he thinking?! You get a split second glimpse of him speared right through the chest by one of those massive coral lances, and two hippocampoi embedded horn-deep in the personnel sled - goodness are those horns sharp - before you, her, and the two out-of-control vehicles all tumble into a black void. (But only for a little while.) That last tumble brought you through the boundary - the vampire planned his idiocy well. You’ve both made it into the bubble-field unscathed. Light is scarce out there in the clear ocean, worryingly scarce - only Stathis’ sled’s running lights are still pointing into the field. In fact, where is he? His sled was missing a pilot, too - that means every last one of you has been unhorsed. Only the ESCO troops now retain possession of their vehicles, and (though they made it into the field well before you and Nori did), your countrymen are not immediately in sight. A few yards beneath you, yours and Slava’s sleds also breach the barrier, tumbling nose-over tail on a downward sinking course. With the hippocampoi still attached, natch, because why can’t anything ever be easy in Aqualantis? The beasts’ horns are stuck fast into the underbelly of Serenity’s sled, and they struggle fruitlessly to pull themselves loose and swim free. Personnel sleds and thruster packs are valid targets for Jury-Rig when in your possession, but if you want to get your hands on one of those rides again, you’ll need to Defy Danger to do it. What do you do? SLAVA You lash out with your vampiric will and carve out a minute slice of soul-stuff from your knightly foe - just enough to taste the metaphorical broth, so to speak. Just enough to get a little blood in the water. He recoils instinctively as you cut him in a place he didn’t realize he could even be cut, finning his mount back in the water and calling out in his beastly tongue to his comrades-in-arms. Oh, this one tastes good. Weak (like any mortal), unsubtle (like any child), but possessed of a distinct and refreshingly direct tang to it. As you manufacture a makeshift lance of your own, he draws the sword at his hip and spurs his mount forwards once more, unbound hair flying wildly behind him.. ...which is the precise moment that a stray member of the prowling horde soars down from above and flings a heavy net of woven kelp right over your head! Your limbs are bound uselessly at your sides for a few critical seconds - long enough for that knight and his steed to dart in inside your new weapon’s range and raise his coral sword for a killing stroke! The lead weights knotted into the net’s strands pull at you, dragging you down to the sea-bottom - the triton knight dips his mount’s nose and yanks hard on the reins - in a moment that thing will beat its mighty fish-tail, and its rider will bring his sword crashing down on your malnourished elf-flesh with all the force of a bucking sea-horse behind it. You’re ambushed and bound tight, isolated and mispositioned...what a fine way to start a duel. Throw Down the Gauntlet 1d6 = 2 Your shiny new machete-lance has the tags (reach, piercing 1, +1 damage, two-handed, and 2-weight). Unfortunately, your opponent is already at close range! You’ll need to get out of that net and keep your opponent at reach to start making use of it. (Or into hand range if you’d rather use those letter openers.) What do you do?? STATHIS Time to reposition indeed. You switch gears swiftly to NEUTRAL, scuttle from the saddle, and leap off your sled’s flank only moments before the only knight who didn’t fall victim to Veacheslav’s recklessness bullets right past you, lance couched for the killing charge, and skewers the vamp like a piece of lamb on a shish-kebab! If you hadn’t moved it’d be you on the end of that lance. And there he goes - that sea-horse isn’t stopping at all. He’s gone out into the dark, out of reach of easy help...you’d just better hope he can make it out alive. You’re all alone out here now - just you, your sled...and the prowling tritons you know have their eyes on you. You can hear them calling to one another, sounding off; you can hear the swelling sea-song of their tidecaller brethren too, deep within the bubble field. They know you’re out here. They know you’re vulnerable, know you’re slower and clumsier in the water than your more aerodynamic comrades - why aren’t they attacking? Do they fear your sorcerous might? (Probably. You did just slaughter a half-dozen of them with a single word.) And now you can hear an engine starting up, too. Well, that’s certainly unusual. Your sled’s the only one you can see - ESCO made it into the field well before you, Nori and Serenity just went in facefirst, and Nori’s sled you last saw being used as a battering ram. Who’s out there with another one? Defy Danger if you go to help Slava, with your sled or without - you’ll have to run the gauntlet before you can get to him - but you can enter the bubble field and/or get on that sled again without needing to roll. What do you do? Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 03:52 on Dec 14, 2016 |
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Dec 14, 2016 03:49
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Slava 17/24 HP; Level 5, 12/12 XP; 1/2 Armor I prepare to be stabbed again, by the sidearm of the knight, but I try to maneuver his weapon into the hole he already carved, then hold it there and use the stuck blade to cut the kelp net. dd int (trick knight into cutting net): 2d6+3 5 snake eyes again.
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Dec 14, 2016 05:40
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Nori 18/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 3/10 | poisoned: bloodweed - when I deal dmg deal -1d4 In the chaos I spot the riderless triton mounts, struggling to free themselves from the wreckage of our sleds. I watch as the burst compressed air tanks of the sleds leak more bubbles, adding to the chaos when the idea hits me. I unstrap the dead thruster pack and check it's air gauge. There's minimal air left in its tank, not enough to propel me anywhere...but maybe just enough to pump air into the chamber of my rifle. For the first time all day a grin splits my face. Now I have a machine gun...ho ho ho motherfuckers. I grab some tools out of a cargo pocket in my pants, a few small screwdrivers, some duct tape, etc. and I get to work. I pull a feeder tube from one of the pack's turbines, and work it into the reciever of my gun, taping it in place. Jury Rig 9 It'll work, but not for long. You'll need to hurry to take advantage of it A slow and steady stream of small bubbles begin drifting out the barrel of my machine gun, the dregs of my thruster's tank, but enough for a few shots...maybe. I do some quick math in my head, according to inverse-square law, and accounting for how the water is gonna drag...my range is just about half down here. Now to test it. I maneuver my bulky half-assed contraption of a gun up to my shoulder and take aim at the hippocampi, then I fire off a burst... Volley 5 +xp lmao gently caress me
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Dec 14, 2016 07:04
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Serenity HP 6/19 | Scarred, Weak, Sick | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 10/12 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGVZOLV9SPo Huh. Alice. That had been so very long ago now. Two hundred and thirty some years. It was true, she had been young and foolish and hopelessly in love with a girl with very dangerous connections. It was also true that was not the whole story. Bards were historians, teachers, and entertainers. They were also assassins when necessary, and Alice's father had had many enemies. His interests had been at cross purposes with influential people among the elves, and word came to Serenity. Send the man a message. See that his daughter was killed, and her training would be complete. It was a complete failure in every respect. The moment Serenity laid eyes on the girl she knew she couldn't go through with it. Probably her superiors already expected as much. She had always been a soft-hearted child. They way they saw it, either she would find it within herself to do the job, or the guild master would discover her true purpose and eliminate a weakness for the Choir. As it turned out, neither ended up happening. They had a fun few months raising hell and breaking all the rules there were to be broken. But no good thing lasts forever, and one fateful night in the throes of drugs and hormones Serenity confessed to her original purpose, and that was that. She and Alice had screamed and cried and fought and apologized and made love and by the end of the night they knew and understood each other as deeply and unabashedly any any two people can, and realized it would never work out. So Serenity packed her things and went on her way. All that remained of Alice anymore was the memories and an obscene tattoo on her shoulder that Alice thought Serenity would never have the nerve to get done. Gods she missed that girl. She had loved her husband. She loved Anastasia. She loved just about all the people she'd ever been involved with, whether as romantic partners or friends or comrades in arms. But all of them were soured somewhat by maturity. A degree of restraint. The need to protect oneself emotionally in some fashion. With Alice, everything had been unabashed, all the way, no looking back or thinking twice or expecting anything but what was given. Serenity was generally not one for regrets, but in this moment she would give just about anything to be that innocent and guileless again. What a strange thing to reminisce about. I hope I'm not dying. Serenity opened her eyes, feeling strangely giddy. It was the drugs, of course, and the blood loss. But in spite of the weakness in her muscles and the way her mind and body simultaneously recoiled and thrummed at the sensations surrounding her, she felt calm. Euphoric. She saw Nori nearby, the nasty wound she'd suffered. There was a woman who probably understood her own thoughts about Alice precisely. It wasn't fair that Jaime had been taken from her like he had. Probably she balmed Serenity to some degree. If she hadn't asked them to hire on, they'd be somewhere else, safe in each other's arms. Maybe. Or maybe they'd have been eaten by a kraken or raided by tritons and both of them would be dead. Well. Spend all your years considering the might-have-beens, it wouldn't change the past. All she could do now was what she always did; try to make the future a little more bearable. And it seemed to her the future would be better if Nori was in it. Serenity kicked her legs and cut through the water towards her companion, pulling out one of the two remaining syringes. Nori was fiddling with her weapon during a lull in the battle, but Serenity could quite gather what she was attempting. With a wave, she caught the woman's attention and pointed from the injector to the envenomed wound. Not even waiting for an okay, she jabbed the thing into Nori's arm and depressed the trigger. Nori will no longer suffer the effects of the Bloodweed Letting the injector drop, Serenity took up position behind Nori. She knew, logically, they were in grave danger. But she could not help but feel like this was no different from a warm summer day that carried no responsibilities or necessities but to enjoy it. Taking in a deep lungful of air, Serenity removed the breather from her face and felt her magics surging outward, and she sang a song long hidden away. Serenity will opt not to inject herself, and enjoy the benefits of Eldritch Chord for however long it lasts. Arcane Art: 2d6+2 10 Healing Nori: 2d8 9 Nori heals 9 hp, and is broken free from enchantment. Serenity will double the latter effect, in an attempt to protect Stathis as well. Serenity was of the elvenfolk, the fey children, and there was no aspect of nature they did not understand deeply. The path they had taken may have drawn them far from that ancient harmony, but the echoes still remained. In recognition of that old kindship, the elements could be bent by a strong enough will...if only for a moment. Maybe the sea would claim her for the temerity, but it would accede to this one demand. As her voice broke out, the water seemed to shiver a moment, struggling against her will, before finally wilting. The ocean still clung, still buoyed them, still strove to drown and claim everything for its own. But Serenity's voice it could not hold. The blood and detritus was washed away for a brief moment as her song echoed impossibly across the watery battlefield. Aid Stathis: 2d6+2 8 Stathis takes +1 to Discern Realities as the surrounding waters clear briefly.
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Dec 14, 2016 18:07
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Stathis Argyle HP 12/18 | Armor 1 | XP 4/11 | Load 6/6 Wisely hanging back rather than risk immolation. Inconvenient when the enemy responds appropriately. Likely circling me, waiting for the right moment, right angle for one to attack, then his fellows follow up, one by one, keep me disorientated and spinning to meet the next attacker... That's, Serenity? ...Of course she'd get the idea to use sound. Always dependable like that, bards. I pull at the sourcery within myself, and weave it into the melody, acting as a conductor to join it with the song reaching past physical limits. A few hand, a few gestures. If you will not come here, we will go out there. I hope at least one could understand elven signs, hate to waste a perfectly good menacing on an oblivious audience. The song and magic are joined as one, and I can't suppress my smile as a small gleam appears in the murky darkness. Then another. And another. Finally clusters of eight stretch out all across my vision and as the sound of the song fades, a rising chorus of chittering and chitin rubbing against chitin rises to fill the silence. For me, these magical hallucinations provide comfort of a well done job. I would think the tritons are reacting less calmly to the sudden appearance of this nightmarish cacophony of noise and eyes. Discern Reality: 2d6 6 With the aid that's 7 so, What here is useful or valuable to me Black Magic (+Cha; Near, Area, Debilitating): 2d6+3 12 1d8+1d4-2 7 and then halved so, 3 damage not ignoring armor but all affected are hindered or slowed.
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Dec 15, 2016 14:04
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SLAVA Well, no; that doesn’t work at all, unfortunately for you. You’re held fast by the heavy net and only just able to wriggle about, and he’s too drat clever by half to fall for that trick - there’s nothing at all you can do to turn aside this pernicious fish-man’s brutal sword-stroke as he brings that coral blade crashing right down through your shoulder! You can’t even bring your main-gauche to bear, no way to turn the blow - your dried, leathery flesh splits asunder like soggy beef jerky, and you feel a sickening lurch as the bone snaps with a sharp report! A few strands of woven kelp split under the strike, but you’re still mostly entangled - although your broken arm flops free of its ensnarement. Okay, now you’re starting to get a little pissed off. That crippling injury won’t be going away until you can finally tear this triton’s soul free from his body and cram it into the roaring emptiness in your belly. Surely he’ll taste all the better for the insults you’ve suffered along the way. You take More black blood oozes sluggishly from the fresh wound - you’ve weathered another blow that would surely cripple or fell any dust-soul on this battlefield, but even your unnaturally preserved body can only take so much abuse before it simply begins to give out. These tritons are devilish fighters: disciplined, well-organized, lionhearted in combat...perhaps you’ve underestimated them. Even the fact that you still aren’t dead doesn’t seem to stagger him much - and you think you hear a couple answering calls to his war-cry out behind you; reinforcements coming from the crash site to aid him. Fair dueling doesn’t seem to be in his vocabulary - but maybe he’s just rightly aware of the incredible havoc your knives can wreak. The knight plants his weight in the saddle and twists, wrenching the blade out of your broken collarbone by main force and bringing his steed around in a tight circle to face you once more, head-to-head. He examines the ichor coating his sword, face twisting up in revulsion, and sheaths the weapon in favor of the lighter backup spear slung across his back. “Ab. Err. A. Tyun,” he croaks contemptuously, pointing the spear-tip directly at your heart in arrogant parody of your duelist’s challenge. “The o-cean. Will. Claim you.” He twirls his weapon, flourishing it needlessly, and digs his ‘heels’ into the hippocamp’s flanks - the beast rears and paws at the water; clearly it fears you, as is fit and proper - but it obeys its master all the same! Here he comes, and this time his spear-point is leveled squarely at your throat! You can wrestle (or void-edge) yourself out of that net and swim free, but choose one: either take -1 forward in doing so, or Defy Danger +DEX to do it fast enough to engage in combat without distraction or further entanglement. Your opponent is at reach, but he won’t stay that way for long - what do you do? NORI You may have a machine gun, but that doesn’t mean you have an easy time aiming the drat thing - let alone hitting anything with it when these environs are grossly unsuited to the use of firearms. The staccato hammer of gunfire is sweet music to your ears - but all you get for it is a pair of sore eardrums and bullets tumbling uselessly through the dark sea, their momentum and trajectory sapped. You missed every shot. Son of a bitch. You were already pushing your luck, of course; they were already at the edge of your estimated range - maybe revise that down a few more feet. The inverse-square law is not your friend. Fire discipline, on the other hand, is your friend. You don’t need to mark ammo, but your Jury-Rig runs out after your next post. After that, you’ll have to find a different air source for your guns, or figure out a different way to fire them underwater. You can mark 2-ammo during that post to swim right up close and execute those hippocampoi - they’re flailing helplessly just outside the boundary of the bubble field. You do, however, spook the tritons’ mounts badly as the bullets fly - they flinch and squeal in mortal terror as your careful burst stitches lines of bullets through the sea around them and hammers a few new holes into your foundered sled! Their panicked thrashing redoubles, and with a pair of dull cracks, their horns bend, creak, and break off at the base! And these being war-steeds, not some tame draft animal, they choose to flee right in your direction. For a couple awful seconds your world is a whirling blur of hoof and snout and fin, champing mad-eyed equine faces with jagged spurs of bone-like material thrusting from their brows. You’re hoofed, headbutted, bit and tail-slapped, spun around and buffeted and rocked with hard, painful blows. If this were a muddy ditch and you a soldier at war on some brighter surface battle-field, you’d be trampled into the dirt right now, easy prey for the jackals. Instead you’re just really pissed off. You take The tripartite triton song echoing through the waves has been waxing in volume and intensity since before you entered the bubble field - and now, it reaches its thundering crescendo! Those three voices shout the final notes of their song in a voice fit to compete with any elven choir - from far away, deep within the bubble field, a shock-front of pallid light takes seed and grows, momentarily lighting each bubble in the vast ocean up with swirling ribbons of pale green, cool blue, and virulent auroral purple. For a few precious moments you can see for many hundreds of feet, far enough to catch a glimpse of the three tritons who wrought this working. Their humaniform silhouettes seem even further from the norm than those of your other foes - their backs and chests are humped and swollen, distorted with hollow resonating chambers like those of a dolphin or great whale, and one seems to sport an anglerfish’s dangling lure glimmering on their brow. As the light flashes, you catch sight of your countrymen as well - the two ESCO personnel sleds are still roaring through the waves flat-out, and it looks like they’re on course for the way you think you last saw the sled’s locator beacon pointing - the way to the Hvalreki. But as you watch, the lead sled suddenly swerves at a sharp angle and veers off, on course for where you saw the tidecallers lurking! The other one continues on for a moment or two then changes course to follow. Your ears are blasted by a three-way cacopohony - not only the tritons, but your companion Serenity also bursts out into impossibly loud song - and from out in the clear sea where the drider swum free of the crash, what sounds like an arachophobe’s idea of a horror movie soundtrack is making your skin crawl. That spider-thing is dangerous, but he’s on your side. They’re both on your side. You don’t even feel all the bruises you have right now, or that hairline crack in your rib. It’ll heal right up. Whatever they were trying to do to you, it didn’t work - but it looks like it’s working on her! As you watch in growing consternation, your bard begins to slip ever lower in the water - drifting downwards faster and faster as the tritons’ sinister magics begin to take hold! You’re not imminently under threat, but Serenity certainly is! What do you do? SERENITY  Shivers chase their way up and down your spine as your clarion counter-melody spreads throughout the battlefield, a strident call to courage and steadfastness against the oppressive strength of the tidecaller’s triple aria. You’re sinking deep into a delirious, drug-heightened artist’s trance, each note and chord-progression of your foes’ melody heartbreakingly clear to your ears - the rapture of the deep thrumming in your blood and welling up on your tongue like a foreign language you never realized you already understood. You may not be able to comprehend the singers’ words, but the intent and emotion driving them is clearer than ever: steely resolve, bitter wrath, and the implacable anger of Nature degraded and abused - all welded to an infrasonic, tectonic growl the likes of which you’ve never heard in all your long centuries. This is what you’re up against - this is that burden, in shielding your companions from its full potency, you must take upon yourself, in order to know its counterpoint. The ocean ceases to cling; ceases to buoy you. Your stomach lurches as gravity begins to reassert its dominance - gently at first, then with increasing force... You are sinking, and you’ll sink faster the longer the tidecallers are permitted to maintain their enchantment. Right now, it’s only a gentle drift downwards. While you keep singing, pausing only to draw breath, everyone and everything who stays near you (or closer) is spared the enchantment’s effects. But not you. You’re going to need someone or something to buoy you - maybe a mount, or something naturally more buoyant than you are - in order to stop sinking and regain your freedom of movement in three dimensions. Take -1 ongoing to Arcane Art until you stop countering the tidecallers’ song. What do you do? STATHIS  As the tritons cast their spell, lighting the currents up in strange and perilous hues, you reach out as well and, instinctively, weave its harnessed energies into your own particular brand of arachnomancy. For the tritons out in the clear sea, it’s as though an inviting target blossoming ripe for the killing thrust suddenly unfolded its tempting facade to reveal a nightmare of clutching cacophony - and you’re rewarded with a satisfying chorus of terrified, rasping screams as the fishmen are caught up in your acoustic assault. Like being naked in the cold wet dark while dripping fanged monsters crawl all over you, looking for the tenderest place to start chewing. Not a fine time. Your victims won’t be doing anything but clawing at their skin and howling for a while, unless some among them should happen to possess both exceptional bravery and exceptional tolerance to pain. They’re still moving around a bit - you can hear the way the screaming dopplers subtly as they do - but there’s no hint of any kind of organized assault coming at you anymore. In answer to the tidecallers’ hue and cry, from a little ways behind you the voice of Serenity bursts out into song. Her melody and theirs battle against each other for a few moments before the other elf’s sound wins out, ringing through the sea near her in perfect, cancelling counterpoint - a sterling display of battlemagic in action. You can feel their magics set a hook in you and tug, but you don’t feel any disturbance in your aura whatsoever - she’s negated the influence of their working in the waters all throughout her, but at the cost of subjecting herself to it! Your bard begins to descend in the waters, slowly at first - it’s almost like the ocean that holds her up is thinning even as you watch. Before long it’ll be as though she’s plummeting through the open air! You should probably do something about that if you want to keep her alive. Since your spell obviously worked, you, like Serenity, obviously have a working knowledge of practical thaumoacoustics. Take +1 forward to Spout Lore about how the tidecallers work their spells, or how you can adapt your Black Magic to better function in regions of unusual thaumorheæ. Like this one right here. You have some time now to drift and savor their screams; time to contemplate your next move, and a way out of this sticky situation. You’re slow and ungainly in the water - completely un-aerodynamic. Your personnel sled provides you a much more useful way to move around, but it’s understandably dangerous to maneuver it at high speeds. The helpless bodies of your enemies may bear war-gear - weapons or armor you’d see fit to strip from their helpless bodies, if you’re willing to entrust Nori with the duty of keeping your counter-speller afloat and safe whilst you pillage. You’re no stranger to making use of those who’ve fallen in war. And here comes what may well be another opportunity in disguise - from the border of the bubble field two panicked hippocampoi in full flight burst out fully armored, foaming at the mouth and pawing madly at the water with their slashing hooves! They run right into your terror-spell’s dominion and every muscle in their body seems to spasm all at once - they shudder to a drifting halt at reach from you, locked in the grips of a fit of paralyzing fright. Their armor - the plates of linked coral barding strapped across their necks and flanks - some of that could well be adapted to fit across your bulbous abdomen, or strapped across your cephalothorax to shield you from harm. You and they are alike, in a sense. Neither all one thing nor quite the other. The tritons bred these beasts, Serenity said; much the same way that your own people bred you. You’re free to act and not imminently under threat for at least a couple minutes. You may begin executing the terror-stricken tritons at your leisure. The hippocampoi are not free to simply be executed without a roll, but they're valid targets for Death from Above. What do you do? Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 02:52 on Dec 21, 2016 |
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Dec 20, 2016 20:45
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Nori 21/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 3/10 I start feeling better just as I get slammed again. Story of my life. I watch as the last bubbles drift out the barrel of my rifle. It wasn't the worst idea, but I could permanently damage the weapon if I keep at it, and that trial run wasn't worth it. I re-sling my rifle and draw my sword once more. A couple kicks get me underneath Serenity, I try to gesture my intent to her, but after a moment I just get her in a piggy-back position and start kicking upwards from underneath, trying as I can to cancel whatever drag is affecting her. Defy Danger 14* *webbed fingers and toes, take +1 to any Defy Danger roll made while swimming Error 404 fucked around with this message at 23:22 on Dec 20, 2016 |
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Dec 20, 2016 23:17
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Serenity HP 6/19 | Scarred, Weak, Sick | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 10/12 Serenity felt someone come up from under her and begin to kick them both upwards. It was warm, so it wasn't Slava, and it was about her size, so it wasn't Stathis. Had to be Nori and those cool fingers and toes of hers. Slipping an arm around Nori's waist, Serenity relaxed and listened to her heart beat, not wanting to be distracted from her song. Sure, she needed to keep it up to protect her comrades, but truthfully she just didn't want to stop. The interplay between her and her unseen foes music was a kaleidoscopic vista in her head that she refused to stop staring at. Another snatch of breath from her breather, and she continued, refusing to back down or consider the insanity of what she was doing. The anger and rage she felt, she countered with her own feelings. Raw passion, and a refusal to surrender. Arcane Art: 2d6+1 11 Nori gains +2d4 forward to damage, and the next time someone successful assists her with Aid, she gets +2 instead of +1
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Dec 21, 2016 00:31
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SERENITY The water may not buoy you, but the arms of your friends are doing a fine job in its stead. Nori’s got you slung over her shoulders like a child on her mother’s back, your mouth just a couple inches from her ear. You hang limp and bonelessly slack in the waters, at the mercy of the slackening current - hallucinations of your twin melodies’ interplay dance before your delirious eyes. The tidecallers sing a different song now, high-pitched and repetitive, rising and falling like gentle waves lapping at the friable rock of the sea-shore, working the land free and scouring it, ever-so-slowly, to smooth fine sand. The water feels like it’s thinning somehow - like you’re falling through rubbing alcohol - the heat is fleeing from your fever-hot skin in bright ribbons and melting away in the cold water. Your heart speeds up to a frenetic pace, beating in quick flutters. You’ve never felt so alive. Update your character sheet with the 1-use of antitoxin you have left. Dosing yourself with antitoxin won’t remove your Sickness debility anymore - it’s staying with you awhile longer. You are absolutely singing your freaking heart out right now; completely, ecstatically lost in song - so what do you do? NORI Easy now; you’ve got her. Little slip of an elf; she hardly weighs a thing with the water still helping to buoy her a little - you can hold her in your arms just fine, treading water with a strong barefoot scissor-kick, the better to bring into play the webbing between your toes. Finally your genmodding is starting to come in handy - but you’re going to have a hard time carrying her for long. It feels like she’s weighing heavier and heavier on your back by the moment, but at the same time that song she’s blaring out right next to your freaking ear is getting you all pumped up with piss and vinegar. How hard are you willing to push yourself before the weight of her sinks you like a ball-and-chain? Mark your +2d4 damage forward, and +2 Aid reception forward, on your character blurb. Your crashed personnel sleds are still sinking, by the way. A good engine under her would probably do this elf good - as long as her ride still has fuel. And as long as you think you can trust her to steer one right now. Her skin’s fever-hot, five-fingers-of-rotgut-too-many hot. Her body’s burning energy at a frightening clip. The tritons out there sound like they’re just having an absolutely horrible time. Now might be a good time to seek out another way to haul this load around before it drags you down to Davy Jones’ Locker, or before the tritons muster their courage and win free of your drider’s incantations, rushing through the water to rip that singer from your back and silence her forever. Of course, you could always hang on - if by some chance you want to see what’s on the other side of the bubble-domes you saw coming in - those places where the water’s churned completely white by whatever telluric energies have so tormented the earth in this place... Serenity and all her gear is 5-weight and rising. You’re carrying her, so that puts you at 13/14 Load right now. What do you do? quote:When you make a move while carrying weight, you may be encumbered. If your weight carried is: Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 05:19 on Dec 21, 2016 |
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Dec 21, 2016 05:07
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Nori 21/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 3/10 | +2d4 damage forward, +2 next time I'm Aided In spite of my best efforts, Serenity gets heavier as I tread water. New plan. I kick out once more awkwardly trying to manage her increasing bulk as I make my way to the slowly sinking wrecks of the sleds. One is completely trashed, hull torn to shreds by the Hippocampi horns still protruding, but the other one looks like it might still function. I maneuver the elf's body into the back of the sled, one look at her face tells me that she is tripping something fierce. Ok. Solve the problem, Nori. I reach into my pack and pull out my rope. I tie Serenity into a sitting position behind the operators chair. She can move her arms and keep doing...whatever it is she's doing, and I don't have to worry about a hallucinating elf forgetting to hold on while I pilot this thing, and going drifting off. Again. It only takes me a few moments more to give the sled a quick once over, and determine that it is in fact operational aside from some nasty dents and a purely superficial horn gouge down the side of its hull. I only have to slam the control panel a few times to get the engine started. I cant the sled around towards the direction I heard the...spidery...magic come from, smart money says that's Stathis. So I head us in that direction at full throttle to try and pull Serenity out of whatever magic the Triton's put on her.
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Dec 21, 2016 07:47
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 Slava 21/24 HP; Level 5, 12/12 XP; 1/2 Armor "I had been willing to give you every advantage, but you squandered your chance." Healing with a potion in a real duel disgusts me, but honor is dead in the world, so I always carry the means with me. My shoulder repaired I slice myself free–and let it be the last time–and meet the charge with the lance of my own crafting. magic melee attack at -1: 2d6+2 6
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Dec 21, 2016 15:38
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Serenity HP 6/19 | Scarred, Weak, Sick | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 10/12 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jfFTT3iz740 Serenity's mind spiraled crazily, her senses overloaded, nothing making sense and everything fitting together perfectly all at once. The press of emotions from the battlefield was overwhelming. Fear and pain and exultation and iron determination painted the inside of her eyelids with expressionist forms. And out from the darkness came an icy lance of sheer will - cold and ancient and dead. Yet even that only enhanced the beauty of the mad vistas her thoughts traveled upon. Slava was still out there, fighting. And though she didn't think the vampire cared much for her, Serenity would support him if she could. He always harped on her youth and naivete, but right now she was hard pressed to remember why those remarks had annoyed her. There was nothing wrong with either, really. It was only if she let those comments dictate her behavior that she was truly in the wrong. She would have to remember to thank him for unwittingly helping her realize that. As she continued to sing, she tried to follow the empathetic link back to it's source. She might not be able to see him, but her song was all around, and she would simply have faith that it and its magic would find him and lend him strength. Aid Slava: 2d6+2 10 Slava takes +1 to his magic melee attack as Serenity's own magic runs wild and bolsters his own.
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Dec 22, 2016 04:35
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Stathis Argyle HP 12/18 | Armor 1 | XP 4/11 | Load 6/6 As I grab onto the sled-shaped submersible a memory rises up within, a wizard's apprentice seeking his missing teacher. ~~~~ "Could you teach me to cast like that, mister Argyle?" Slightly high pitched, almost nasally voice. Puberty hit this kid so hard he's still walking funny. A long drag from a cigarette, watching the ceiling fan slowly spin as I try and connect the dots. "Even if I wanted to kid, I doubt it." I knew as sure as the sun rises and sets, as grass grows and birds fly, that this wouldn't stop him from asking his next question, but I hoped beyond all reason... "Well... Why not? Even if it's sorcery there's some underlying theory both adhere to, and manipulating thaumaturgic energies works regardless if it's from innate arcane powers or from syphoning latent energy..." "See, all that right there tells me you already know more about magic theory than I do, kid." "...How's that possible?" "Well, the word 'spartan' perfectly describes knowledge of magic. For the basic theories and 'proven sciences' behind it, a better word would be 'non-existent'. Sure, I can tell you that sorcery is different from wizardry, and both are a different beast entirely from song magic. The nitty gritty details are completely beyond me. I was trained to take the magic within, my 'source', and taught extensively how to use it to kill. Quickly, slowly, through physical harm or mental anguish. Sure, you'd think knowing to kill quickly would be better, drop one target and move to the next, right? How about if while neutralizing a threat, you left a a gasping, sobbing wreck of a man lying on the ground, begging his friends to help him, to stop the pain, while they're desperately searching the darkness for where and what threw a jagged bolt of force through their buddy's chest?" I glance over to him, he's pale and quiet. This kid's not even been alive for two decades and here I am rambling about how I was trained to ruin a squad of men with a single spell. "...That's not relevant to the question, but shows in its own way how I was taught magic. No time spent on theory or how to harness it outside of combat situations. But hey, all the more reason to find miss Rubina, right?" The silence tells me he's struggling with that mental image still. In time, he finds his voice and asks plainly "Do you really do that to people, mister Argyle?" The words don't come easy, hiding my hesitation with another long drag, before I find the words to lie to this kid. "Not any more Arthur. Not any more." ~~~~ I pass Nori as I head towards the song. Hope she knows enough elven sign to get the area behind me is pacified. If not, it'll be a fun diversion to fill the time instead of smoking while we're forty thousand leagues under the sea. But right now there's at least one enemy wielding magic and putting down the grunts did nothing to stop their spells, so it's time to have a few words with them. The benefit, near as I can tell, to song magic is the distance and area it can easily cover. Handy for disorientating large groups. The drawback is predictably being very easy to track on account of having to make music with the magic. Or maybe it's the otherway around. Regardless, drat hard to hide while using it. These tritons are clever, staying on the move in this field of roiling bubbles, but it's not helpful against someone solely focused on finding them. Finally I spot their forms as they swim, and it's close enough. Draw up some force, multiple jabs to send waves of it at them. Hard to carry a tune after a few swift blows to the abdomen, let's see if they can manage. Magic Theory (Spout Lore): 2d6 4 Fuckin' magnets, how do they work? Discern Realities: 2d6 9 I wanna know where the heck these tidecallers are hanging out at. Black Magic (+Cha; Near, Area, Debilitating): 2d6+3 7 1d8-2 6 taking the ongoing -1 to Black Magic rolls as the 7-9 choice
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Dec 22, 2016 11:28
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Slava 21/24 HP; Level 5, 12/12 XP; 1/2 Armor I smile, baring my fangs at this knight as I cut myself free with my void-eged lance. "Your wailers are being upstaged, and by one of my kind... "How have your incursions onto the land gone? They are absent from the history books for a reason. But we Elves conquer whatever we want, slay all who stand in our way without a second thought, thanks to that battle song you now hear. damage: 1d8+1 3 spout lore skalds: 2d6+4 7
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Dec 22, 2016 16:12
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STATHIS You're thinking along the right lines, without a doubt: but just as surely, your tidecaller foes know they're vulnerable in that way. They've taken strong measures to safeguard against any attempt to fix their position or vector by a sonar lock alone. As you approach, your tympana straining to seek out the surest direction of their ominous siren song, it's as though they flip a switch and turn on the surround sound - the echoes of their enchantment, bounced cunningly off the bubbles in the water and reflected back to your ears, make it seem as though there's not one set of singers, but six! Their decoys are all around you: above, below, on every side! Devious bastards, without a shred of doubt. They were born to the waves as you were born for stealth and secret murder on land, and acoustic virtuosity comes as naturally to them as it does for Serenity - you saw her as you sped ahead, strapped to Nori's sled with a length of rope, swaying from side to side like a choral communicant and belting out some old Elvish ballad with every last scrap of her heart. Just like old times. You rolled a five on Defy Danger +INT, so mark XP. You can't ask the Discern Realities question you gave me, so I'm treating it as though you asked What should I be on the lookout for? The acoustics may be tripping you up bad, but their sonar chaff is useless once you can get a visual fix and hold it long enough to unleash hell, and the tidecallers know it too - they dart and flash as your spotlight sweeps the water, seeking always to remain safely hidden in darkness. A half-second sighting on a tidecaller's rubbery flank is all you need. You rear your front two pairs of legs up, lock the sled's controls onto a straight course, and open fire with everything you’ve got, four legs and both arms too - a six-barreled gatling gun of force jabs pummelling the water white!  Quantity has a quality all its own, and your wild gunslinging is rewarded with a pained squeal as a bolt, thrown from darkness into darkness, strikes home by blind chance! The song falters and flutters as the third member of the round drops out, silenced by your hand! You keep up the pressure, hammering out blasts of magical force as fast as you can pump them out of your threshing limbs, and a second cry of pain is your reward - but you can't seem to get the follow-up shot! His brethren are still keeping the sonar decoys going, they’d surely not risk wandering into your line of fire to rescue their injured comrade; but neither can you keep visual lock on him long enough to see your shots strike a killing blow. A few swift gut-punches will put a sock in anybody's mouth, but it sure won't shut them up for good, not unless you got lucky enough to snap his neck… Eventually your rate of fire slackens and starts to drop off as your limbs sag, exhausted. You’ve drawn deep on your reserves of magical force to keep a barrage like that going as long as you did - you can already feel an incipient headache starting to throb behind your temples. The tidecallers are still doing their thing, still out there in the black and bubble-washed sea, the two you missed still calling to one another from the safety of their six-part sonar shield - you’re really not sure where they truly are, which of their decoys is the true origin-point, but you should be on the lookout to keep that song stilled. You’ve got a tin ear for music, but even you can hear the missing places in their song where there ought be melody. It does you and yours nothing but good to silence that pelagic aria, and even a single missing voice is enough to greatly dampen the song’s potency. Serenity's zone of protection-from-enchantment now stretches to far range. But it won’t last forever... And there it is again, that’s the engine you heard earlier - in fact, now you think you hear two! One’s coming from behind you, at a sharp angle off to your right; the other one’s coming from high above, a little ways to your left - that one sounds like it’s going a little faster than the others, its engine note a little higher-pitched. ESCO must be coming to your aid - but which is which? Who’s piloting what? You’d better be on the lookout for those Aqualantean nationals - their manpower could make all the difference between the tidecallers slipping your net once more, and snaring them in a deadly crossfire! Of course, that assumes they’re still alive, that you can coordinate with them, and that they know that it’s you out there doing all that spellslinging. Last, you’d better keep a sharp eye out for the victims of your horrid fear-spell: your decreasing proximity to its central locus, plus your depleted reserves of sorcerous power, mean it’s getting harder and harder to keep those tritons immobilized! You can feel their minds clawing at the strictures you placed on them, starting to marshal their courage and win free of its restraint - before long they’ll be on the move again! Their brand-new and entirely rational fear of you probably means they’ll be disinclined to try and engage you afresh, but that’s no guarantee there isn’t some other sort of mischief they could get up to. You could keep those tritons firmly under your tarsal claw, of course - divert even more of your depleted strength to shoring up the fear that prisons them - but it’d leave you even more drained than you currently are. You have -2 ongoing to Black Magic if you keep the fear-spell going; dismiss the effect now and you just have the -1 ongoing you chose as your consequence. What do you do? SERENITY You’re dangling from Nori’s sled like a frond of kelp anchored to a holdfast, head thrown way back, throat wide open to the rushing sea. The influence of serpent’s tears courses through your veins like thickly leaded wine - your head spins deliriously, drunkenly; the power of your song like a surging river poured out into the vast and fizzing sea. Your passionate singing slows only when you’re forced to take sparing snatches of breath from the respirator in your hand. The ice-hard spine of that revenant’s will is the only solid thing in the world - the only rock in the swirling maelstrom of your overloaded senses. He draws you in, grounds you to certainty - your shoulder and stomach suddenly suffer stabbing pains as your psyche comes into resonance with his. His wounds must be horrendous. He’s out there all alone with the monsters, that knight who single-handedly skewered him and carried him off into the dark - all alone, that is, but for your song. But his naked, predatory satisfaction at a battle now beginning to turn his way - that sneering pride in your people’s long history of subjugation by force of arms - it jars you to your core, shakes you badly. That’s not you, is it? Is it? You left all that behind. You never wanted to be part of that, that butchery.. But you are, you already are, you led the charge and felt the spray of hot blood as the hippocampus died. Your song gave him what he needed - the extra vim and vigor to turn the fight around and conquer. His victims are going to die now, horribly. Because of you. Your drug-addled brain is sure of it. Their souls torn from their moorings and fed to that vampire’s psychophagous hunger. The song you sing falters on your lips even as the tidecallers’ song slips as well, one of its triple voices shut down by yet another elven experiment in the ways of annihilation. The world tilts and wheels like a funhouse ride, your stomach cramps and churns - it’s all too much, you’re being overwhelmed! And then, just when you’re at your weakest...you feel the slithering rasp of a finned and scaled fish-leg brush against your thigh. Close. Much too close. You know where the real tidecallers are, and you’re not Weak anymore because of how righteously pissed off you are that vampirism is a thing that can happen. Instead, you’re Confused. Now you have to Defy Danger +WIS to snap out of your bardic trance and realize this isn’t part of the trip. On a 7+, you have enough sense left in you that you can either respond effectively to what’s happening, or communicate meaningfully with the rest of your party. On a 10+, you can do both. What do you do? NORI You’re in close formation, falling gradually behind Stathis as he locks his sled on a bombing-run course and pumps out magical machinegun fire into the inky depths, but it’s to little effect - all he can make happen with that massive barrage is a few lucky shots! There’s just too much space out here in the wide blue sea for weapons like that to be truly effective without some way to actually aim all those shots - and as you’re frustratingly aware, even a close-range burst can go awry unless you know exactly how your weapon will behave. Serenity’s lashed to your sled’s stern with a sturdy length of rope, but she’s not even trying to hold on or show any restraint at all - she’s dangling at the end of that rope like a worm at the end of a fishhook, singing her pretty little heart out and only occasionally remembering she needs to take a break for air. You don’t have a good line of vision on her - she was behind you to begin with, but your speed coupled with the weight-enhancing effects of the enchantment she’s fallen under means she’s well below you now too, having slipped her grip on the fuselage and now held up only by the rope around her waist! Surely she’s incredibly vulnerable right now - if you can’t defend her, who can? You race through the waters faster and faster in pursuit of your drider comrade, in attempt to win your bard free of the tidecallers’ malign enchantment, but it’s no use - the sea stubbornly refuses to hold her up, and she’s dipping lower and lower in the water with each passing moment! You, at least, are perfectly fine - the operatic counter-melody she’s pumping out into the waves is making sure of that - and Stathis is fine too now that he’s stilled one of their tongues. Serenity’s unexpected weight on your sled’s frame is beginning to pull the watercraft’s nose upward, slowing you down a little - but do you even have time to get down there and heave her back up onto the fuselage again? Out there in the fizzing darkness, almost directly behind you, a pair of glaring white spotlights snap on, skewering a fin-legged form in twin beams of light. The revealed tidecaller looses a long, warbling shriek - answered from the darkness behind those spotlights by a volley of crackling pain-ray fire! Almost immediately the waves echo with the tritons’ cries of outrage - the unlucky tidecaller takes a bolt to the shoulder and his voice goes raw and harsh with pain! Now, while he’s hindered and off-guard - now’s the time to strike! You don’t know what’s going on with Serenity right now, unless you Discern Realities successfully, or unless she tells you. The revealed tidecaller is near you. What do you do? SLAVA His eyes burn with naked hatred as you mock him. Serenity’s song reaches you, gladdens your withered heart - gives you the strength you need to open-palm slam a healing potion into your hosed up shoulder and shudder as the flesh flows back together like dried-out taffy. That’s enough; it’ll hold weight now - you let your will flow down along the weapon’s point and whirl it in a circle, slashing the net to shreds just in time for you to meet the oncoming charge. His lightweight backup lance flickers for your throat, but you’re quick enough to twist aside before it does more than slash your carotid artery and sunder its shaft from its head with a swipe of your main-gauche - a moment later your makeshift coral lance-tip crashes into his chestplate, and both weapon and armor chip and shatter, blowing apart in a cutting blast of glassy shards! You took The wounded knight snarls in rage and pain, goggling in disbelief at the rent in your neck where the hot lifesblood of the living ought to be gushing out - you should be dead thrice over! He casts aside the worthless shaft of his spear in disgust and slips from his steed’s back, drawing his sword as he goes - the raging hippocampus barrels right into you and screams like a frightened woman, backpedaling frantically and slashing at you with its hooves! You’d better do something about this seabeast before it breaks your arm or puts a hoof through your spine! I'm too tired to spout your lore right now, but rest assured it's coming. What do you do? Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 07:47 on Dec 26, 2016 |
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Dec 26, 2016 07:45
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Serenity HP 6/19 | Scarred, Sick, Confused | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 10/12 Serenity was so far gone she found herself coming right back around to lucidity. Chalk it up to Slava's own sort of violent art lending a an unwanted counterpoint. Dark thoughts began to germinate and bear fruit, and her first instinct was to push them away. She was in a good place right now, why did reality have to stick its nose into things? But just as it was okay to be okay, it was also okay to let the darkness in. It didn't make her feel better or make the situation any less horrifying...but that was life. Defy Danger (+Wis): 2d6-1 9 Maybe it was possible to put a stop to this? It's never too late to stop loving up. And wouldn't you know it, something scaly and mad just let her know it was there. Serenity shivered, then without thinking lashed out a hand in an attempt to seize the leg. Not sure what this calls for. DD, I guess? I'm going to try and set up for your earlier suggestion of spouting lore on a common tongue.
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Dec 26, 2016 09:38
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Slava 21/24 HP; Level 5, 12/12 XP; 1/2 Armor Thrust a lance at me and I make it mine. Throw your seahorse at me, what do you expect? I swim towards it, turn my back to it like a matador, then grasp it by the throat and haul myself onto its back. Reins in one hand and cutlass whirling above my head, I set a course to decapitate my doomed opponent on the way back to my ward–who has demonstrated that she has the capacity to be all the more dangerous despite her vulnerable state, just as I have proven myself time and time again over the course of my long life. True elves fight all comers to the bitter end, even Death itself! DD dex (dodge and mount seahorse): 2d6+1 10 mounted magic sword attack: 2d6+3 10 Burst: Your attack deals an additional 1d4 damage and gains the ‘forceful’ tag. Void-Edged: The edge of your weapon hums with an unearthly light. You may slice through inanimate objects with ease and add the ‘messy’ tag to your attack. messy forceful damage: 1d8+1d4 9
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Dec 26, 2016 10:17
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