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Sammi Icarus's arm around Sammi put her in a very odd mood, certainly not one she'd ever felt before. It was almost as if her blush had extended down from her cheeks and decided to start burning in her chest. The way he'd called her 'darlin'... she knew they were just pretending, but even so Sammi could do little to hide her shy but happy smile. She made a small affirmative noise to his comment about privacy. Trying not to think about the kind of things that would required such privacy, Sammi focused on enjoying the act while it lasted. She practically danced her way to Icarus's cottage. Rags said her goodbyes outside, acting as though she was letting her go her own way and making her promise to visit. With this done the monster departed to enact the robbery. Once inside the cottage, Sammi took the opportunity to appreciate his workspace. It was fascinating how much Icarus opened up around this stuff, but then again was she any different? Now that Rags wasn't nearby she could feel a cold nervousness building in her chest and she took a deep breath to try and claw back some control. Now was not the time to start feeling self concious. Now was the time to work. "D-Defiantly phlegmatic, b-but also choleric." Sammi described the yellow pail that the poison gave to the skin after extended exposure, it was one of the first signs that death was approaching. There was also pain in the stomach too, on the upper right side. Dizziness and vomiting too. It had been awful to experience this first hand and she wanted to make sure Vimmen didn't have to feel it too. He'd been given a far higher dose then she ever had, who knew how long he had before the fatal symptoms would kick in. "T-The cure comes in two parts, o-one to treat one humour, and t-the the second to t-treat the other. I was- I mean, i-i-it's always given C-Choleric cure f-first, then Phlegmatic. Both s-small potions, roughly yay b-big." She signs out a shape the size of a shot glass. "But we may need bigger, g-given the large d-dose Sir V-Vimmen has."
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Aug 29, 2014 00:20
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Sia HP: 23/23 Armor 0/0 XP 5/8 As the day drags on, the rooftop gets nice and warm in the sunlight, which feels good after a morning of slogging a lovely little boat across freezing water. I figure Rags is enjoying the Mother Superior act with Sammi, no big deal. The monster knows that things won't really kick off 'til sundown anyway. So after I get done plotting the route, I settle in for a nice quiet nap.
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Aug 29, 2014 16:09
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Rags It was without sound or fanfare that Rags found Sia, he mearly weaved himself together next to her on the roof through the thatching. Like a shadow taking root, silent and waiting. He'd chosen to move back to the gruff poncho look, it certainly seemed to match Sia's personality better than the Rosalin disguise. An unspoken agreement passed between the two. Nightfall would be when they started. "Plan o' attack?" Rags said.
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Aug 30, 2014 01:40
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Sia HP: 23/23 Armor 0/0 XP 5/8 Having woken up and eaten a bit and had a drink, I watch impassively as Rags weaves itself into position. I start a sarcastic slow clap, being careful to muffle the sound so as to keep hidden from anyone walking below. "Neat trick." I whisper, smiling a second before gesturing at my sketched map of the rooftops. "Personally, I'm of a mind to just quietly slaughter every living thing in there, but that'd make the others twitchy. So here's what we should do. After nightfall, we find a way in and split up, the building's not big, and we're both pretty quiet types. whoever finds the book first brings it outside straight away and hides it on this roof," I gesture to the building on my map closest to the town hall. "After that, we collect some of our due payment. Coin, jewels, anything valuable, but here's a twist, somebody so high up as the Governor-General is also likely to have some enchanted items, those are always useful, or at least worth a lot of coin. So I say we rob them blind, and maybe if it all goes to poo poo we get to kill them, what say you?"
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Aug 30, 2014 02:40
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Sia, as you discuss the plan with Rags, your attention is caught -- you're not sure exactly why -- on a figure moving down in a small courtyard below you. The Senator himself is down there! Your hiding place has a nice view of the rich part of town, but this area's just dockhouses and cranes -- pretty shady. Why is he here? His guards are nowhere to be seen, and he's acting very suspiciously -- looking around to see if anyone's watching him enter the enclosed space back here. It's honestly kinda sad how obvious it is that he's trying to be sneaky, poor guy. Especially since there are, in fact, at least two people watching him (well, one person and one person-shaped creature), and he doesn't bother looking up to see it. Before you can do anything about the great Senator, though, a figure detaches itself from the shadows and steps forward to talk to him. She's wearin - wait a second... you recognize that outfit!  She must be a member of that freaky cult you fought in the Silver City! What the hell is she doing here? You can spy on them safely from up here, but you're too far up to hear anything. If you want to creep closer without detection you'll have to roll! Vimmen, the crowd jump back and are stunned into silence by your display of Bolt's power! They look up at the sky uncertainly; nothing like a little thunder to get people thinking of those times they've stayed in during a storm instead of braving the rain to make the proper sacrifices. A tall man coughs politely, then suddenly rushes off -- clearly he had important business, it's not like he was scared or anything. The rest of the crowd soon follows. The Shiaka seem cowed as well. Their argument cuts off abruptly, and they merely watch, some with fascination and some with obvious horror, as you reach for the girl. Thankfully, Bolt is with you today: with an actinic glow, His transcendent grace surges through your veins like fire, leaving you scoured clean and reeling with power. For the briefest of moments, you can see the accursed thing coiled around the girl's mind like an eel, bone-white and radiant with alien hatred, before your god's power burns it away and you're staring at her face once more. Her eyes slowly refocus, and she looks at you. She whispers, softly, so softly you must strain to hear -- "AEZHKORETH MAL IRIDAX APHTHORII" Then she collapses back into her mother's arms, asleep. Her relatives swarm in to check if she's alright, and seem satisfied that she's merely exhausted, and in no danger. Seni's parents eventually manage to shoo them away, most still watching you and murmuring to each other in concerned tones. The father lifts his sleeping daughter up, and her mother rises, grasping your hand. "Thank you, oh thank you, gods beneath and above us, if you hadn't been here..." She envelops you in a hug, weeping joyously onto your armour. "Please, if there is any way we can repay, oh, at least let us feed you!" I hear Shiaka food is delicious, if you want to hang out with them until nightfall. Otherwise, you've got free leverage over them if there's something you want. Or you could head back to the town hall as you were before you were so rudely interrupted. The travelling jeweller whom Rory finds turns out to be a fellow northman, a grey-bearded man dressed all in purple who towers over the natives of Codcliffe. The north's famous for jewels, actually; there are plenty of precious stones, including some with mystical connections or powers that are of interest to shamans and wizards. Yours prove to be mundane, but Torbin Blackmarch still gives you pretty good price for them, on the condition that a) he gets an invite to your little party, and b) you buy the first round. +2 sounds reasonable. "It's good to meet a man who knows how to handle his drink, 'm I right? Hah, these fish-lickers round here'd pass out over half a sip of good Blackmarch ale. I wouldn't bet on the best of 'em to outdrink my grandmother, and she's dead." He laughs explosively, startling a passing girl with a basket of grapes. "Anyway, you might've already heard the news, but if you were thinking of heading back home, now's maybe not the best time. Word is, the sky tribes are gearing up for another assault on the Imperials at Watchtower, 'n things might get ugly. The Tower's pretty tough to siege, but the tribes always bring plenty of horses, so I doubt it'd take much to cut the helmets' supply lines." Sammi and Icarus, after carefully conferring with each other, you think you've come up with the recipe. Icarus' lab has many of the things you need -- cane root, Harpers' nettle, and about two cups of yrmic acid. However, you're not home free yet:
 Right now you've managed to scrounge up a Quality -1 antidote; each of the three things above would add +1. When you quaff the antidote, you're cured, but roll+Quality: on a 10+ it works perfectly, on a 7-9 there's an unpleasant side effect, and on a 6- the cure is perhaps worse than the disease. in other news i'm bad at going to sleep at a reasonable hour
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Aug 30, 2014 06:45
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Sia HP: 23/23 Armor 0/0 XP 5/8 Before the monster can respond, I hold up a hand to forestall comment, my eyes boring down into the courtyard. "Fuckin-A, right on. Ok, new plan. You stay up here and watch my back, I'm gonna collect a little payback, and then after dark we rob the Town hall, which may be easier with everyone all aflutter about the assassination of our friend Governor gently caress-face. Also awhile back Rory and I tangled with the people that the bitch in the robes works for, so she's got a beating coming..." With that I roll to my feet and quick as a shadow leap silently to the next roof, and again to another, making my way to the courtyard... I'm assuming Defy Danger to sneak? Defy Danger +DEX 12 With the speed and silence of wind, I make it across, scrambling like a monkey across roof tiles to come to rest just above the Governor and the cultist. I make eye contact with Rags, gesturing to watch by pointing at my own eyes. If I were smarter, this would probably be a good time to wait and listen in on the bad guys...nah, gently caress it. I grip the edge of the roof, and with a slight lift, I swing my entire body weight around and down, using my training to enhance the impact as I drive into my primary target...The Governor. Hack and Slash +DEX 9 Damage 7(Messy, Forceful, 2 Piercing) Both my feet slam into his chest, I hear a popping of bones breaking and see a dent in his breastplate where it meets his shoulder pauldrons, as the old fucker is flung across the small courtyard to rebound off the far wall. Now where did that cultist go...
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Aug 30, 2014 07:20
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Rags Rags pinches the bridge of his nose as the monk dashes away. There was a certain resemblance to his charge that worried the monster ever so slightly. But not enough to stop the woman before she put her foot right in it. And by 'it', he meant the very guy they were here to steal from. No wonder they called her 'sigh'. Rags crouched low on the rooftop and scanned for the presence of a trap. It was unusual to think that the most important member of the imperial unit in town wouldn't have a couple of friends lurking around, even if they were these cult fools. His hand already weaving itself into a number of sharp edged tendrils, primed to be fired like a bolt from a crossbow. --- Sammi Sammi stood close to Icarus as they put the finishing touches on the potions. She examined the cures they had made so far, they weren't bad. Probably do the trick, though she felt somewhat guilty that her input may have made Icarus's work worse. She'd felt bumbling, clumsy and self concious whenever she'd fetched anything, especially when Icarus's eyes were upon her. But they'd worked well together, even if the two of them had blushed heavily and glanced away whenever their eyes met. The cure, it would save Vimmen. But she wanted it to be more, she wanted it to be good... no, better than good, Sammi wanted it to be great! She always felt like the weak link in the group, everyone else was so much stronger and braver than she was. But this could be her chance to prove that she belonged amongst them! "S-So all we need is to s-sneak under the t-town hall, s-steal a still. Find s-some... spire w-wood bark from somewhere. O-Oh, and I can t-try and see if I c-can enhance it's e-effects with the W-Wyrd. T-T-That is... i-if you w-want me too...? I-I mean, um, it might cause m-more mutations i-if I get it wrong..." --- Spout lore - spirewood: 2d6+2 10 Apologies if this goes a little over the top. But Sammi doesn't do alone with cute guy very much. Bring on the  --- Sammi cleared her throat, she didn't want to dwell on the potential negatives. She she instead switched subject. "U-Um, but anyway... Spirewood t-trees are pretty uncommon, and a-a little d-difficult to spot. But Rags t-taught me the trick to f-finding them. I-I've slept in their branches a f-few times. T-They're pretty c-comfortable, especially w-with someone else s-sleeping with you. S-So we can head out to the woods together and d-do that..." Sammi realised only seconds later what she'd just implied. She and Icarus. Going into the woods. Alone. And 'sleeping' together up high in the branches of the trees. Where no one could see them Her mother had always taught her that only bad girls took men out to the woods alone, that only bad girls did 'that sort of thing'. She'd never gotten why it was bad at the time. Though now she was older she had a much clearer understanding of her mother's meaning. Sammi didn't want Icarus to think she was that kind of girl so she hurriedly tried to cover her mistake. "-A-Ah! U-Um! I! I-I mean, g-g-g-go to the w-woods for y-you to g-get wood! Ah! No! I-I didn't m-mean t-that ether!!" ...and flubbed it completely. In the back of her head she could swear she could hear the laughter of the others, teasing her as she dug the hole even deeper. Her blush only increased as she worked herself into a minor tizzy. Illicit thoughts, Rory's parting words, her own inexperience with these sorts of things. They were like the perfect storm of embarrassment, filling her head with all the wrong things to be thinking about when trying to get a hold of yourself in front of your crush. She was reduced to making embarrassed noises, not wanting to speak for fear of coming out with something even worse. Instead Sammi placed both her hands over her mouth, all the better to hide her blush and stop her speaking. It was a motion that she only ever did when she'd hit the peak of her embarrassment. Though as Rags had warned her many times, it made her look adorably cute.
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Aug 31, 2014 00:40
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Vimmen | HP 25/25 | Armor 2+1 | XP 5 Vimmen struggles to his feet under the weight of the thankful islanders. Oddly, he doesn't feel the usual invigoration lent by channelling Bolt's power. This present test is not nearly over, it seems. No matter, he'll be on to the town hall after guiding this simpletons towards Bolt, then get his cure from Icarus in short order. "Pay no reverence to the gods beneath, they... Beneath... Cannot... Nuh." Something's wrong - the paladin's eyes roll back in his head and he tips backwards into unconsciousness, his half-lidded blue eyes staring up into the gray skies above. DD (CON): 2d6+1 6 XP 5->6 The Shiaka care for him, of course, taking him back to... wherever it is they live, here. Their food warms him, but they have no experience with or knowledge of Green Bite. Worse still, in his state he's not able to communicate any of the various worries that slog through his poison-addled mind. What of the mission? How will Icarus find me with the cure? Is Sia doing anything rash? What is Bolt trying to teach me??
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Aug 31, 2014 02:51
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Rory Watchtower HP: 27/27 Armor: 1 XP: 2/8 "Of course! Any fellow northman is welcome to drink with me. Come to the Cod and Cot tonight, brother, I have arrangements with the inn-keeper, but keep away from his little girl; that one is mine!" Rory guffawed, joining Torbin in his uproarious laughter. He shook his head at news of the northlands, especially that of Watchtower. "The Empire gives all the northern tribes a common enemy. Without them there, those worshipers of the old way would be spilling their brothers' blood on the field and their daughters' blood on their witch-altars. I'd much rather they war with the Empire; from what I remember during my milk-drinking days, the soldiers don't use civilians as meat-shields." "How fare the saber-cat tribes, Torbin Blackmarch?" Rory jabbed at his fellow northman. The tribes of the Blackmarch region were as vicious as the great cat they were named for and had warred with their neighbor, the people of the iron-river, for decades, if not centuries. The Iron-River tribe was the last to hold Watchtower before the Empire's last push into the northern territory, and the tribe Rory's mother was from. It was likely that Torbin was just as removed from his tribe as Rory was, but he remembered the stories his mother told of the saber-cat warriors. "When you stop by tonight, we will see who between us is the greater northman with a drinking contest. Make sure you show up." Rory returned to the inn, fresh gold in hand, and made sure to spread word of the celebration he was throwing tonight. Perhaps some of his cohorts would even make it by before the heist. Carouse: 2d6+2 6 Of course Rory's party would get way out of hand! I'm going to play to my greed, I'll choose: You hear rumors of an opportunity.
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Sep 2, 2014 21:41
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Sia, there's nothing quite like the feeling of smashing someone into the dirt, is there? Your silent approach goes completely unnoticed -- they're too caught up in whatever dumb conversation they're having -- and you smash your full weight into the Senator without warning. He goes sprawling... but he's quick for an old guy, and strong. He twists back up to his feet, then grimly relocates his shoulder with a sneer and a nasty snapping sound. "I knew it. I told them, hah, yes, I KNEW you were with them all along! From the moment I laid eyes on you, girl, I knew you'd betray us all. I hope you're an orphan, for I should hate to have to hang your whole family." He puts his one working hand on the hilt of his sword. "Come on then, show me what your pitiful ancestors called fighting, traitor!" He pulls the sword into a vertical hold and surges towards you with a tremendous burst of speed, knocking you to the floor with undeniable force before you can so much as think of defending. You can hear him calling for his soldiers: he clearly intends to simply delay you until they can arrive! Rags, the pink-robed messenger doesn't see your impulsive buddy coming, and regards Sia with a look of complete shock and horror as she tackles the Senator. She doesn't hesitate long, however; as soon as she regains her wits she skirts back into the shadows and off to the east, apparently abandoning the Senator without a second thought. Sammi, spirewood trees tend to grow high up on mountains, presumably due to their connection with airy spirits and the sky. The most likely place nearby would be along Havenswatch Road, though you'll likely have to venture a ways into the forest, as it doesn't grow very well out in the open. Luckily they're easy to spot from a distance, as they grow quite a bit taller than the other trees in this part of the world. How'd you learn all this stuff about botany and alchemy and such, anyhow? Have you seen spirewood trees before? Rory, you... might have gone overboard this time. You know, just a little bit. I mean, the party started out pretty low-key, just telling stories to whomever was in the bar. Whenever you stopped talking to take a drink, Torbin would jump in with a story about his third cousin who married a sand bear purely by accident, and that one time he wrestled five irate Keherians at once. But as the day wore on, the audience grew and grew, everyone got drunker and drunker, and the stories got more and more outrageous. At some point Roland gave up serving in favor of passing out in the pigshed out back, but by that point it was far too late. And now, well, now you and Naja are sitting on the end of an upturned cart, watching the rioters dancing in front of the burning Inn of the Cod and Cot. They seem to be doing a pretty good job of it, which is impressive considering how drunk they all are. Burning stuff never gets boring, of course, but eventually they'll run out of easily-flammable stuff nearby and start spreading through the town. On the bright side, it appears that everybody's momentarily forgotten whose fault it is that they decided on this act of arson (hint: it's you). On the less-bright side, you imagine at least a few of them will remember in the morning, so uh, you might want to be elsewhere by then. By the way, what was it you told them that got them so riled up in the first place? Vimmen, you awoke within a somewhat claustrophobic room, its walls draped with deep orange fabrics and covered in small, oddly abstract portraits of Shiaka you've never met. None of the portraits show the subject's eyes; must be a cultural thing. Hm. A number of ladies with white braids have apparently appointed themselves your caretakers following your little fainting spell, and as they busy themselves about the house around you they insist on bringing you far more tiny little seafood pastries than you could possibly eat. Any resistance to eating said pastries is politely but firmly overruled. By the time you manage to extract yourself from their care, dusk is coming on, and you're feeling quite a bit more steady. However, you've been required to consume vast quantities of soup, stew, chowder, fried salmon, wine, candied roots, fritters, sausages, and something called "baz myrkell." You really, really hope baz myrkell is a kind of fish. The Shiaka turn out to live in a large complex of interconnected buildings a few blocks from the market. You can hear lots of shouting and drunken singing from the direction of the Inn, and... is that smoke?
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Sep 4, 2014 08:32
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Sia HP: 23/23 Armor 0/0 XP 5/8 I take the push like the love tap it is, it just gives me more momentum, more energy to play with. I turn the push into a spin, stepping around the bastard's guard as his sword pushes past me into nothing but air. I give him a quick flick on the side of his jaw to let him know I was there and finish up standing directly behind the man. Defend 11 3-hold, spend 2: Halve the attack’s effect or damage Deal damage to the attacker equal to your level. 1 Damage In a voice that's one part whisper, and one part growl, I address the fuckface. "Y'know the thing I love about you big brutal types? You think ya can just power through anything, run over anyone. Until you meet me. I just take it all and turn it right back on ya even worse. Power through me? heh. It'd be quicker and more useful to slice your own throat open and bleed out here and now!" And then I strike once more, stiffening the fingers of my hand into a knife shape and focusing kinetic energy into a thin edge along the outside of the hand, I sweep out once more. Hack and Slash DEX 11 Damage 11 (Messy, Forceful, 2 Piercing) Leaving myself open to attack for that extra 1d6! Bones crackle and pop like muted firecrackers.I've collapsed the entire left side of his backplate, I hook a finger into a deep dent and pull, simultaneously kicking out with a foot to give me leverage. The high pitched squeal of tearing metal pierces the air, as the armor's backpiece is torn from his body. The ruined Senator coughs and chokes on his own blood. I admire my handiwork for a moment, grabbing anything small and valuable I can reach off the man, coin purse, jewelry, etc. I saunter around him to look him in the eyes, they burn with such hate I can almost feel the heat. I smile at him, all sweetness, and say "Remember, you betrayed us. You lied about the job, lied about the prize, and left us to die. Say goodnight precious." I swing back my arm, ready to strike the killing blow. I assume I've either killed him or gotten close to it, He also insulted my fighting, and I proved my kung fu superior so haha. But I'll edit this if I'm way off, or this is going too far. Error 404 fucked around with this message at 16:34 on Sep 4, 2014 |
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Sep 4, 2014 16:32
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Sammi Cubrick HP: 23/23 Wyrd: 0, XP: 3 Some things I learned from Father, he taught me to read and I'd spend hours hiding from mother in his study and reading all of his books. I didn't understand all of them. But I understood enough to help me learn more. I picked up alchamy from... him. By which I mean he used potions and poisons on me and then told me exactly how I was going to die. Stuff like that tends to stick with you. Then after Rags pulled me from the mansions ruins, I was half dead, barely clinging on. He took me out of the city. To a place up on a mountainside. It used to be a temple of some kind, but now it was home to this woman. Rags seemed to know her, though even now he hasn't told me where from. Her name was Holly, after she nursed my body back to health, she started working on helping me to trust people again. It was a long process. Some times involving tears, and some screaming. But both Rags and Holly were very patient with me. Holly taught me about plants, and animals... come to think of it she taught me a lot. How to hide, how to cook something so I didn't poison myself, washing and bathing, healing and the humours, how to relax because no one was ever going to hurt me the way my Master had. One night Holly took me for a walk into the woods around the temple, I'd not actually left the walls without Rags and Holly together, so I was rather on edge. Every noise made me jump with fear, but Holly hushed me and calmed me back down. I wanted to go back, but Holly urged me on, I was too afraid to head back on my own so we kept on walking. Eventually we came to the tallest tree I'd ever seen. Rags was standing next to it, waiting. Holly explained that it was a Spirewood tree, that when the temple had been maintained the people who lived there gave thanks and their prayers to these trees. They'd been considered blessed, after all they clearly grew taller and grander than every other tree in the forest The story went that on certain nights, nights just like tonight, if you climbed to the very highest branches and spoke your prayers to the star coated sky, the spirits would protect you always. So I climbed. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, I was still weak and it was practically pitch black. But as I climbed there came a light, hundreds of lights! All fluttering to the tree, landing on it and turning night into twilight. Holly said they were the spirits, guiding my way. I let them, moving from branch to branch slowly, making my way up and up and up till I could climb no more. I was shaking and exhausted, drenched in sweat. But even so I felt so strong! I'd achieved something on my own. I yelled my prayers to the sky, and- W-Wait, I'm sorry, that wasn't what you were asking about, was it...? After we set off from Holly's place I picked up things here and there, Rags would steal books for me to read through or find wise people to provide minor lessons. We'd always return the books, I'd make him. I know there's still a lot I don't know, I want to learn about machines and making potions and be clever like Icarus, learn how to fight and defend myself. I want to learn how to stop having nightmares. ...I miss Holly. Bringing her attention back the the present, with her emotions all aflutter. Sammi grabbed the cures and fled outside, getting away from both Icarus and his cottage. She began channelling the Wyrd trying to change the potion for the better. Using it more as an excuse to escape from her embarrassment then anything else. --- Channelling the Wyrd: 2d6+1 9 Wyrd +1 GM picks 1 corruption outcome (If damage is selected damage dice is d4) --- Rags was writing this up just as Error posted, if you don't kill the guy, I will. More fuel for Sia's desire to fight Rags! Now he's even kill stealing off of her! This cannot stand! Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhhh....! Sia seemed to have stumbled onto a rather dangerous opponent, one that knew her. If Rags was smart he could go and steal the book in the confusion and leave the monk to fight her way out. But Sammi would be very upset if Sia got hurt or killed. But he could complete the mission here and now. But Sammi would look at him with those big accusing eyes. He could- She would never forgive him. Rags let loose a burst of speed. Sia was fast, really fast for a human, but Rags was not human. He shot forwards like a bolt from the heavens. Keeping his poncho disguise up. He lashed out his arm and the tendrils shot out, stabbing through the wall of the warehouse. Rags leapt from the roof and pulled hard on the rope. Momentum added to his supernatural speed and Rags rocketed across the open space, meeting the Senator in mid air with his other hand. His hand unravelled on contact with the senators face, wrapping around it thickly like webbing, forcing the threads down his throat, up his nose. Squeezing hard, the general would ether pop or suffocate. At the very least he stopped shouting. Rags feet hit the ground and span, twirling his grappled opponent through the air, skidding fully seven feet before he stopped facing back towards Sia. Lifting the senator by his wrapped head till his feet were off the ground. The Sword was of little consequence to him, but they needed to end this fight quickly if they hopped to be undiscovered. Escape would be harder once reinforcements arrived. "Yes, yes. You're very scary, so on and so forth." Blood began to seep through Rag's threads. He'd just forced a tendril into an eye. He smiled wickedly as the vibrations of the man's screams were snuffed out by the thick choking rags that stretched his throat in uncomfortable ways. --- Do a thing! - Attack the Imperial: 2d6+1 8 -Wyrd pours into your body, gain 1 Wyrd and roll coruption (power of the Wyrd) Close, Messy, Forceful Damage: 1d8 3 Power of the Wyrd roll: 2d6+2 12 Wyrd: 2 GM picks 2 corruption outcomes, for a total of 3 corruption outcomes. Oh god this is going to hurt. On the plus side XP+1! XP: 4 Arashiofordo3 fucked around with this message at 17:32 on Sep 4, 2014 |
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Sep 4, 2014 17:29
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Vimmen | HP 25/25 | Armor 2+1 | XP 6 Vimmen loses track of how many times he utters "thank you" to the gaggle of Shiaka elders, partly because every time he opens his mouth, they shove more food in. The baz myrkell in particular is a spicy paste, spread on top of what appears to be a chunk of sea sponge. Vimmen has spent copious time by the sea, to be close to Bolt, but even these dishes are foreign to his tongue. Either way, the brief nap and gastronomical fortification work relative wonders for Vimmen's energy levels, and he's ready to be onward with the mission. But he hesitates at the doorstep, his clouded mind parting for a moment to remind him of the path ahead. He turns back to the Shiaka, still smiling warmly at him. One old crone tries to force another seaweed loaf on him, but he turns it away, his interest more piqued by the decorations of the room. Each one of the strange portraits on the wall has an essence to it, a feeling of watery gloom - draped, torn netting and a dangerous-looking shark's jaws mounted on the wall seem only add to these seafaring folks' experience on the open sea. "One more thing, before I take my leave, sisters. If my fellows and I succeed in our mission here tonight, we will need to travel onward, across the bay to the Sisterhood of the Riven Sky - the island monastery to the south. You would have passed it on your way here from Shiak, I believe. "My fellows and I, we are not experts on the open sea, not as you are. We shall have an artifact of grave importance that must not be lost to the depths, or otherwise wrest from my hands before reaching its destination. I would, then, petition your help, or the help of one of your number, in crossing the open sea, the quickest route to our goal. Your expertise is unmatched on the dark, uncertain waters of our time." He adds this last note with a slight head-nod - though not strictly the universal truth, it may bolster their generosity. Parley: 2d6+2 8 "In return, I can offer you sanctuary with the Sisters of the Riven Sky. Theirs is a conservative order, but they will shelter you by my command. You have already seen me channel Bolt's awesome power - you know that it is real. What say you, Shiaka?" After hearing their response, Vimmen thanks them once more and heads out into the dusk, attempting to reorient himself in the town he never spent much time exploring previously. He's trying to find the Town Hall, so he can at least run the reconnaissance that was planned earlier. But the glowing flames and billowing smoke from the inn may prove distracting... Discern Realities: 2d6 8 What should I be on the lookout for?
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Sep 4, 2014 22:01
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Sia HP: 23/23 Armor 0/0 XP 6/8 The monster was quick, I had to give him that. As his tendrils wrapped the Senator's head, I simply strode forward, and did a spinning kick that connected with the Senator's center of mass. with a sickening pop, the remains of his armored boddy go spinning across the courtyard, crashing into the opposite wall and clattering to a gore soaked tangle of limbs. The Senator's head remains in the woven grip of Rags. It's done. I stand up straight, flicking the blood off my hands, I tuck the former Senator's coin purse (with any other valuables) into my belt before raising my eyes to glare at Rags. "You haven't seen poo poo yet, you wannabe kill-stealing rear end in a top hat!" I snarl, "after all this bullshit is done, we're gonna go off somewhere, you and I, and we'll see which one of us is scarier." With a smile that promised murder, I turn and scale the nearest wall and scramble onto the roof, taking care to keep myself hidden from any foot traffic below. I don't even spare a glance at fuckin Rags as I begin hopping across alleyways, roof to roof, keeping to shadow where possible. Defy Danger +DEX 4 +XP I figured I should roll like I did before to move stealthy. oops. I figured we should split the difference, Rags still has the guy's head, maybe we should keep it to use as intimidation or something. I don't know, but I guess we're off to rob the town hall and nab us a holy book! Or maybe Rags has some special monster magic he can use to mimic the Senator? Error 404 fucked around with this message at 23:57 on Sep 4, 2014 |
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Sep 4, 2014 22:21
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Rags Rags chuckled, which built into a heavy laugh. Goodness, he never would have expected Sia to be this insecure about her abilities. He held the head in front of his face. Then he ate it. Rags walked over to the body and ate that too. Morphing his disguise to match the Senator's looks. The brain was the important bit, all those delicious memories. But right now he needed the mannerisms more than anything else. Those little twitches and movements that made a disguise. He would need to head to the town hall, but if he needed too he would send the guards after Sia. The body had enough blood to fake an injury. One significantly less serious then having your head kicked off. "Run quickly traitor! I and the hounds of hell will be right on your heels!" He yelled. His accent perfect. --- Using Quick! Hide! to disguise Rags as the Senator, and hide something. Namely the body.
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Sep 4, 2014 23:06
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Sia, your battle with the Senator eats up precious time. For all his boasting, he's a careful and well-trained opponent; he's clearly fought powerful fist-fighters like you before, and knows to turn your ferocity against you. He pulls you backwards around the loading yard, turning out of your strikes, interposing his sword, and letting you waste your strength against empty air or the steel links of his armor. But they don't call you the Black Hand for nothing. After what seems like ages of dancing and blocking, he puts a foot in the wrong place. The impact of your strike echoes through the courtyard. Windows crack. Vanerik steps back, his sword faltering, his gaze focused on some far-off horizon. "I... I can't..." A look of sorrow and loss passes his dying eyes, and then you put him down forever. Rags messily devours the fallen Imperial's headless corpse. A macabre spectacle -- lucky Sammi's not around, this isn't one for the faint-hearted. The impromptu decapitation you two inflicted sprayed a surprising amount of blood across the sand, but hopefully nobody will look too closely. Concentrating, you mold your substratum into a mockery of Vanerik's body, coiling yourself to fit into his too-detailed shape. It's painful and unpleasant being bound up this tightly. Rags injures himself, and takes -1 ongoing until he gets a rest. How does it feel to wear a dead man's face? You shout imperiously after the retreating Sia. She flits up the wall, onto a rooftop, skims down an arch... and lands directly in the middle of a squad of twenty or so heavily-armed Senatorial guardsmen. "You heard the Senator-Captain: sieze her!" shouts a mustachioed lieutenant, and they adroitly fan out into a circle, then pin your companion to the ground with the butts of their pikes. She looks incandescently furious, but it's highly unlikely she can get herself out of that. The lieutenant salutes you smartly, touching his shoulderpad with respect. "You're injured, my lord! Private Herron: call for the auxiliary, your Senator is hurt. Accursed traitor -- she'll die for this, and slowly too." He eyes Sia with gleeful hatred. "Take this treacherous eel to the town hall and lock her up, Corporal." Sia flubs the getaway and gets nicked! The two of you might be able to talk your way out... but are you willing to risk blowing Rags' cover? If you don't struggle, they won't hurt you; they'll just dump you in the makeshift brig they've set up in the town hall. Sammi, you get a faint shimmer of something coming through your link to Rags, a kind of gritty, greasy feeling. It's probably nothing, though. You focus your will on the little phial of golden liquid and, closing your eyes, pry open the cold dark gates inside your mind, letting the power flow forth. Some days the gates are hard to open, and the Wyrd is just a trickle. But today it doesn't just flow, it surges, bursting into reality in a torrent of corrosive filth that drags you up into the air, carves unsettling circular wounds into the ground, and eats at the rocks around you. Before you can pull it back, it disperses, flying out into the world in all directions; what terrible effect it might have, you can only guess. You collapse, gasping, to the hillside, and find yourself in a circle of tormented landscape. The grass is metallic and purple, the rocks burned with eldritch patterns. It won't take a genius to figure out that something unnatural happened here, and somebody might be able to trace the power back to you. That... could've gone better. At least the potion is congealing nicely!(?) Vimmen, the Shiaka confer amongst themselves, some of them obviously translating for the others. Eventually a young woman with the weathered complexion of a sailor comes to talk to you. She has no trace of an accent; she must have been born here or come as a small child. "Stormwatcher," she calls you. A respectful hand sign is given. "My boat can take you across to East Haven, but no closer. The sisters' island is a rock, with no place to make land, so you'll have to follow the cliffs and cross the bridge on foot to get there." She shrugs. "I imagine they get few visitors. I am Rathi. As for your... payment. I will not lie: we have been promised such before. Your Empire came to the islands, and brought your gods along, saying your gods were stronger than It. So we cast It aside. Is your stormgod strong enough to protect us from Its wrath? I certainly hope he is, for all our sakes." She studies you stoically. "Emiyi tells me you stormwatchers each have a sign, so we can show others we are under your personal protection. We follow your gods now, for better or worse. But many think we still cling to It, and we are rather tired of being called 'heretic.' Give us your sign, and I will take you on board." You do indeed have a personal seal, but giving it out is a fairly serious thing, maybe more serious than this lady realizes. Have you ever given it to anyone else? megane fucked around with this message at 07:48 on Sep 9, 2014 |
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Sep 9, 2014 04:57
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Proper post incoming in a bit, but saying I'll basically be letting myself get brigged, I was trying to go there anyway.
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Sep 9, 2014 05:10
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Vimmen | HP 25/25 | Armor 2+1 | XP 6 There is only one person in all the lands to whom Vimmen has given his seal, and that boy's name was Roydan Viggor. Paladins in the Order are not forbidden from laying with women, but they are forbidden from bearing children. However, on his way back out on pilgrimage from the Capital, he ran into a vaguely-familiar baker's daughter who had an introduction to make - Vimmen's son! The paladin had wanted badly to train his son, and took him to hillsides and clifftops, teaching him of Bolt's awesome might. But one day, Bolt saw fit to put and end to this aberration from his strictures, reaching into the boy's heart and stopping it. Vimmen thought of abandoning Bolt then, and nearly threw down everything he'd dedicated his life to! But instead, he relented, acknowledged his sin, and atoned. He was forgiven by Bolt, so he thought - in fact, the current trial of poison is the longest Bolt's abandoned Vimmen since that fateful day seven years ago. The quartz crystal riven with a bolt of metal and its chain were still hot when the paladin pulled them off of his boy's singed neck. He placed it around his own neck then, and felt the pain of his against his chest, a weight he'd never shrug off. not even when he removes the necklace now, and places it around Rathi's neck. He's too drat weary to argue, and these bad memories aren't helping. "East Haven will do." He's about to leave when he notices the little girl from earlier, pushing through the adults' clothing flaps and yawning. The paladin kneels to her, tipping up her chin. "Never forget what happened here, child. Bolt reached into you through his servant, and in so doing blessed you with his Light and Power. The thing you once called It is right to have no name. Names are for the worthy. The only name you shall know is Bolt's, and you must pray he gifts you with a name worth knowing one day." He stands, throwing one last look over his shoulder to Rathi. "Be ready at the docks. I've been away from my compatriots for far too long, and there's no telling how quickly we may need to depart." With that, he sets out towards the town hall.
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Sep 9, 2014 07:05
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Sia HP: 23/23 Armor 0/0 XP 6/8 Well...fuuuuuuuuuck. I'm cursing my luck under my breath as I stand quite still and do nothing, very carefully. The soldiers surround me, and I'm pretty sure I can still take them, but then it occurs to me. Here's my ride, heh. All I have to do is let them arrest me, and they'll take me right where I wanna go. So I raise my hands and say "It wasn't me, he fell down a flight of punches..." my face splits in an evil grin, which combines with my blood-spattered state to make me look like some dark goddess of death. I knew I shouldn't be surprised that the monster mimics the Senator so well, but even so I have to take a moment to keep my jaw from dropping. I recover quickly enough and crack another smile. "Well, your lordship is sturdier than I expected, I think I'll enjoy killing you for real next time! HA HA" One of the guards jabs me across the face to silence me. Before the little shitstain can turn away from me, I leverage back against the guardsmen holding each of my arms, and fling a leg up, putting all my momentum into my foot. With loud Pop, I kick the lower jaw clean off of the guard who hit me, he falls to the ground emitting gurgling shrieks as his fellows lay into me, soon enough I can pretend they knocked me out. I watch our route through my lashes as they drag me to the town hall.
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Sep 9, 2014 07:19
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Rory Watchtower HP: 27/27 Armor: 1 XP: 3/8 The tale-telling dragged on, each one in turn becoming less believable as the storyteller tried to one-up the man before him. More laughter and drinks were shared in the packed tavern of the Cod and Cot. Rory was about the recount the story of the Northmarch Ogres again by mistake, but this time riding war-mammoths, when the door flew open, letting out the warmth and laughter into the evening air. A handful of soldiers from around the corner came into the tavern, bent on having a good time at the party the whole town must be at tonight. Just what Rory had been counting on; one imperial distraction coming up. As Roland left their table with ales at each of their seats, Rory cast his shadow over the lot of them, blocking the warming light of the roaring fire. "What do you piss-drinkers think your doing drinking my ale?" He growled, knocking half the glasses off the table to punctuate his sentence. "Everyone is here to celebrate how I routed the corsairs while your rank-and-file lot nursed their wounds to the taste of other peoples' bread." He goaded them, trying to start the fight he'd been longing for all night. "W-we won't make any problems for you," a soft-shelled soldier tried to assuage the northman's temper, "we'll pay for our own drinks and keep to ourselves." They tried to make it clear that they weren't looking for trouble, although it had found them. "Oh, you just want a drink?" The mountain at the table scoffed at the imperials, "As long as you are paying, you're welcome to your own beers." Rory said coolly. With hesitation, the men brought their mugs to their lips, and the two nearest Rory were met with massive hands shoving them forcefully down onto their glasses, slamming into the table with enough force to break the wood and their jaws. They spat blood and teeth and broken glass into a pool of beer and broken wood on the floor. The others around the table were quick to leap up and draw their swords, but none of them seemed anxious to attack the near-giant as he cracked his knuckles, a wicked grin creasing his face. From the resulting commotion, Roland hurried over to smooth things over, "Everyone should calm down, there's enough action in here already without drawing swords," he said, keeping his distance from the fray. He gave Rory a glance that the bigger man didn't even care to respond to, "Rory, these men just want a drink and their silver is as good as any. They can take the table in the corner and stay out of your way." "I didn't know you served your swill to boot-licking dogs who don't know when to get out of town, Roland," Rory lashed back at the innkeeper, "These fools can't keep their heads out of the Captain-senator's rear end long enough to help the people they are stealing from." He spoke loudly, so to escalate the scene as he tried to push the soldiers further into the fight. Around the bar, locals and the like were taking notice of the commotion, and Torbin's timing couldn't have been any better when he approached with the hogs-head of hooch. Grabbing barrel from Torbin, Rory held it over his head, bumping the rafters with the cask. "Everyone, Roland has been serving your beer to these filthy imperials who steal your homes and bread. How about we give them some beer!" He launched the words and the barrel down on the hapless soldiers as the crowd whipped into a frenzy of flinging flask and whirling whiskey bottles. One lucky bottle of something strong smashed into the mantle over the hearth, bursting into an inferno of burning spirits. Rory took the cue and spread the word like wildfire, "Everyone burn the bottles, no drink for the imperial dogs!" ... Outside, the fire roared, sending showers of sparks into the night air like a frenzy of fireflies storming the starry sky. On the overturned cart, Rory sat above the stirring mob with his arm around Naja's back. "Well, I didn't get to stay in that room again. It looks like I'll have to be taking off before the crowd dies down. The imperials will be too busy with the rioters to chase us down. Where do you think you'll go from here, you've got that aunt who does the deliveries, right? Are you going to stay with her or move out of this nowhere, tiny town?" He didn't notice the smearing make-up as tears rolled down her face. If he had, he was sure they were tears for him, and not at all her burning home. Rory stood as he noticed a figure in the mob, "Torbin, you were wrong about Roland watering down the whiskey, though that beer was piss-water." I didn't get my rumor of an opportunity yet from the carouse roll. Teonis fucked around with this message at 00:00 on Sep 10, 2014 |
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Sep 9, 2014 19:51
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Dammit, just pressed the wrong button and deleted my post. Go me. Sammi Cubrick HP: 23/23 Wyrd: 2, XP: 4 The problem with thinking of the Wyrd like a door is that things can barge through when you least expect it. Sammi hit the dirt and lay there. Groaning softly, feeling groggy from the sudden surge. Note to self, do not wield eldritch energies when in emotional turmoil. Sammi started the habitual check, not every mutation caused pain and some of those were rather shocking. She still had nightmares of the time she switched genders. Rags hadn't stop laughing about it for a month. Okay... still a girl, good start. Her hair was also the correct length and colour, her clothing was still separate and not fused to her skin, she hadn't grown a tail or animal ears, nor had her left hand transformed into a swarm of angry crystal wasps the size of field mice. Also, her legs hadn't rooted into the ground and sprouted biting flesh eating flowers who's leaves were made of flint and spat lighting. All of these things were wonderful as they had not happened... this time. It was at this stage that Sammi look around at what HAD happend. Her eyes grew wide with shock and her jaw dropped. She might as well have written a sign saying 'Hello, I'm a magical abomination!'. At least the potion seemed to be matching what she remembered. It had been unpleasantly thick, like mouldy cream. She needed to get away from the blast zone. "I...Icarus...?!" She called, climbing to her feet. --- Rags Well this was fun, sure he felt back for the poor guardsman who encountered Sia's foot. But that twitch on her face when she thought he was the Capitan walking again. Magical. They dragged the unconscious woman towards the town hall. Rags followed, his expression both gleeful and thunderous. So many potential ways to cause long term psychological damage to whatever guard he decided to surprise. But first he would need the book. "Take the bitch to the cells, bind her tightly, her whole body. We can't risk her breaking free again. Traitorous scum has already done more than enough damage." Rags ordered.
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Sep 9, 2014 20:53
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Rags With a group effort the goon squad drag the monk into the town hall. Rags leaves the guards to do whatever they do with prisoners. Moving instead to the main body of the hall, seeking the holding room for the pirates loot. He doubted the book would be in with the rest of it, but it would be nice to make sure the others wouldn't be leaving empty handed
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Sep 13, 2014 00:41
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Vimmen, Rethi accepts the the necklace with a bow. "Thank you, stormwatcher. I shall make ready to leave, and be waiting for you at the docks. My ship is named the Spice Wind, you will find it easily by its orange hull." She bows slightly, and rubs the little crystal on its chain. "The Imperials have declared that no boats may leave the city. We shall see if they are correct." Seni is awake when you find her; if the Shiaka ladies were pampering you they're basically smothering her. Somebody's given her a little iron crane, a Boltean symbol, which she clutches uncertainly. She stares at you with a hint of childhood terror, but listens carefully to your words, and manages a "Thank you" when prompted by her mother. The market has disintegrated into chaos, though by now things are starting to die down; the inn is smouldering and the revelers are spreading out, singing drunkenly about freedom and rising up against oppression and also about beer. No soldiers are in evidence; perhaps they were scared off? Oh, but there's Rory... Rory, Torbin greets the approaching paladin. "Ah, you must be Rory's friend he told me s'much about. Anyway, too right you are, Rory. Who'd have thought you could get good whiskey down here? I guess even these fish-smellin' bastards get thirsty now and again. Er, beggin' your pardon, miss," he says to the silently fuming Naja. She hasn't said a word in a dangerously long time; she seems to alternately want to kiss you or throw you onto the fire. Torbin seems to remember something all of a sudden. "Say, if you gentlemen are up for it, the reason 'm down here is 'cause I'm on the hunt for a certain gem - the Eye of Ka'ist. A friend of a friend told me it got swiped outta some rich lady's collection, and somehow a buncha smugglers around these waters got ahold of it. Figure a coupla big guys like you, causin' trouble as ya are, might happen to accidentally run across those pirates, hm? It'd fetch a pretty big pile'a cash... if you knew the right guy ta sell it to." He winks slyly. How is he this sober? The man drank like half a keg, honestly. He tips his hat to Naja, then stomps off into the night. The town hall awaits, just behind you. The front gates are closed, but I don't imagine that'd stop you if you felt like going in that way. Alternately there's the cellar entrance Icarus told you about. I wonder where Rags and Sia are? Sia, the guards definitely do not take kindly to your antics. After you kick their buddy, they make sure to chain you up tightly, drag you through the streets, and eventually dump you in a jail cell near the town hall's kitchens. Well, I say a cell: it's really a pantry with bars hastily installed across the door, but that sort of counts. There are even still a few sacks of grain in here. The only other occupant is an old woman with enormous ears, who despite all the commotion remains solidly asleep and snoring. The moustachioed lieutenant stays to heckle you through the bars for a bit, but eventually gets bored and saunters away with a sniff, leaving you alone with nothing but your chains, a network of bruises, and an impossibly loud snorer for company. Presumably there's a guard somewhere nearby to watch your cell door but you can't see him from inside. How are you going to get yourself out of this one? I assume you've gotten thrown in jail before -- how does this one compare? Rags, your disguise holds up pretty well; you get the impression that the Senator was a pretty scary guy, since even his own staff seem to avoid your gaze. A few of them hastily talk to you about things you don't know or care about, guard postings and such, but you manage to bluff your way through it -- they seem to know what to do without your input, anyhow. Most of the staff and soldiers are busy getting ready to move out in the morning, when the supply ship arrives, and you see all manner of papers and supplies and odd boxes being carted around. Eventually you manage to follow these back to the cellar; the Imperials have converted the room directly under the trap door into a treasure vault, stacked high with filthy loot. Hobart's cargo includes weird-looking weapons, beautiful Twilight-era paintings of long-dead princesses, a circles board with tiny hand-carved towers and castles, even an exotic green bird with sharp eyes that glare at you from within its wicker cage... how the heck did he get all of this? What in the collection catches your eye the most? Luckily, the Chronicle is still present. It's wrapped in thick grey-brown leather, presumably to protect it against the elements, but the seal of Bolt is clearly visible on the cover. There are a handful of guards here, though instead of keeping careful watch, they're playing cards on a priceless gilt-inlayed Keherian chest and drinking bottles of Governor Termack's wine. They fall silent and salute guiltily when you enter. If you want to push your luck with your disguise and do anything forceful or drastic, you'll have to roll Defy Danger against getting caught out. Sammi, Icarus seems to have headed off somewhere; perhaps he's gone on ahead of you? It's getting dark, and a sudden rising of the wind draws your attention to a bank of churning clouds approaching quickly from the east over the Sea of Mirrors. The first sprinkles tickle your skin, and speckle the stones lining the path with dark wet blotches. You should probably hurry along to meet the others at the town hall, or you'll be caught out in the rain... 
megane fucked around with this message at 03:13 on Sep 13, 2014 |
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Sep 13, 2014 03:01
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Sia HP: 23/23 Armor 0/0 XP 6/8 Being wrapped in multiple layers of chain from neck to ankle really give a gal time to think. Nothing impressive about this cell, in fact its former status as pantry not only ranks it among one of the nicer prison cells I've been in, but also ranks above a few inns and hostels I've willingly stayed in. I roll my eyes at the old lady with the big ears snoring. After a few minutes, when I'm sure there's no one watching, I begin to work at my bonds. I flex and relax the muscles in my arms, torso, and legs, to try and loosen the chains where I can. After about 20 minutes of flexing, grunting, rolling, bending, and wiggling I finally free my right arm and shoulder. A flick of my wrist and a sound like a muffled whip-crack later, and I've shattered several links around my belly allowing me to free my legs and other arm. I regain my feet, taking a moment to stretch and loosen my body. I straighten up, march confidently to the door of my 'cell' and knock loudly three times to get a guard's attention.
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Sep 13, 2014 04:45
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Sammi Cubrick HP: 23/23 Wyrd: 2, XP: 4 "I-I...Icarus...?" Sammi asks, uncertainly entering the cottage and finding it empty. She felt a small shudder of panic, where was he? Had he gone out looking for her? Oh no, where could he have gone too...? The forest! The bark! Maybe he thought she'd gone out looking for it! Or maybe he'd gone to find the others and warn them that she'd run off. She had to find him, and quickly. But which way? The woods, she would check the woods first. Sammi took off at a run and headed into the trees, yelling Icarus's name every few steps. The coming rain tickled against her hands and face as she pushed through branches and foliage. She stopped, panting heavily and trying to catch her breath, listening hard for a response cry. It was now, that Sammi realised that she was alone. Since that day she'd met Rags she'd never been alone. Not ever. If she wasn't panicking already she defiantly was now. She looked around, trying to work out where she was. Was she lost? "ICARUS!!!" She yelled. "RAGS!!!" Silence. "...R...R-Rags...?" A frog in her throat.. She clings to a tree for stability, both physical and mental. Shivering, though if it was from the cold, or from the horrible fear now enclosing her chest, it was hard to tell. "N-No, no, no no no no nononono... H-Help, someone help me, please!" She begged the uncaring forest. She felt sick, she wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream. She slipped on a root and scrapped her arm down the rough bark. The pain snapped her out of it. Sammi cradled her arm, whimpering. She had to head back, her courage had failed her and she could go no further. Sammi looked through the trees, searching for a sign. She saw the smoke, rising from the burning inn. As her only clue Sammi heads towards it, emerging to see the blaze rising high. She was back to the village, hoping the others were still here. She didn't want to be alone anymore. Will post Rags move later.
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Sep 13, 2014 20:05
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Vimmen | HP 25/25 | Armor 2+1 | XP 6 Vimmen's eyes are wide as he pushes through the city, tapping along the cobblestones with his walking staff. Smoke rises in a massive column into the clear, starry sky, the warm glow of smoldering embers lighting the town like a Wintelmas hearth. A drunken reveler runs past him, waving a burning Imperial tabard over his head. This is the distraction they came up with? Unbridled chaos?? The clock on this mission just ticked about a thousand seconds closer to midnight. Finally Vimmen locates Rory, resting on his laurels at the city hall. The paladin raises an eyebrow at the enormous merchant, throwing up a quick Bolt sign while wondering how much Rory spilled about their purpose this evening. As he waits for Torbin to finish his greed-fueled bloviating, Vimmen takes stock of himself, feeling the deep fatigue that has started to settle into the nooks and crannies of his musculature. Like a fine sand, it clogs his every movement, and weighs him down in its bulk. In the midst of his self-reflection, Vimmen notices something else. A scent on the wind... Familiar, nearly lost among the burnt particles that waft all around, but growing thicker on every breeze. A thin smile spreads across the paladin's lips. Perhaps Bolt has not abandoned him after all... When Torbin is gone, Vimmen turns to Rory. "Storm's a-coming, giant. Your fires will be dead soon." He nods towards the town hall, Imperials swarming around and unloading stuff from the back. "How do you figure it? I haven't the strength myself for a frontal assault, though I might manage a cover story. Can you handle the heavy lifting?"
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Sep 14, 2014 03:13
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Still editing this, posted from phone so I could work on an actual computer. Sammi Cubrick HP: 23/23 Wyrd: 2, XP: 4 The town was in an uproar, revealers danced in the street and the imperial unit struggled to keep the peace. As a small quiet girl, Sammi had little problem moving through the crowd unnoticed. There were places that she couldn't push through, so she found ways around. It took a little time, but at last she arrived outside the burning inn. Looking left and right for any familiar faces, Sammi practically yelled when she spotted the hulking form of Rory. Vimmen was close as well, though he looked as though the world was crushing him. The poison was catching him up. That only made her feel more guilty about Icarus's disappearance. She still had the cure on her, but she didn't trust it to do the job to it's greatest effects. "Mr Rory! Sir Vimmen!" She cried as she ran towards them through the smoke and crowds. "I-I can't find Icarus, h-have you se-seen him?" ---- Rags The guards weren't even paying attention. More than likely they had no idea of the power some of these objects contained. Poor, ignorant mortals. They also had no idea their commanding officer was a flesh puppet for some kind of ungodly horror. Then again, very few people ever suspected that. It was almost as if it was the last thing anyone expected. Funny that... Objects glittered and shined, one in particular stood out to Rags, a staff. Simple adornment with one large gemstone set into the head. Almost like a glittering crimson eye. It had been a long time since he'd seen this sceptre, nearly a century and a half. Welded by a great and mighty sorcerer by the name of Arlond Harper, now long forgotten by history, a side effect of a nasty curse a mad priest had thrown his way out of spite. Harper's body had never been recovered after that volcano erupted and buried him in molten rock, nor had any of his effects. But no one had known that Harper's powers had been granted by the spirit living inside the staff. A creature known as Sond. But that had been years ago, and Rags had never expected the staff to survive the experience. The staff reeked of magic, essences of its inhabitant that still lingered. The sorcery that could still be weaved through this weapon... Gods only knew what damage it could do in the wrong hands. Or the right ones for that matter. It would probably have been made use of were it not for the fact of how plain it is. How it ended up in this hoard was unknown, perhaps it was just trying to find it's way home. Rags did not know if Sond was still alive in there. He would love to investigate further, but he would need to get rid of the guards first. He exited the room and looked out of one of the town hall windows. The tower of smoke was certainly impressive. Thinking quickly Rags decided that his best option was too send the guards out to deal with the blaze. Rags stormed back into the treasure room. "THE INN IS ON FIRE! GET OUT THERE AND DO YOUR DUTY! PUT THAT FIRE OUT AND KEEP THE EMPEROR'S PIECE!" He yelled, pointing back up the stairway. If anyone argued he'd play the insubordination card. No one argued with a superior officer if they were willing to run you through. Arashiofordo3 fucked around with this message at 19:09 on Sep 15, 2014 |
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Sep 15, 2014 17:48
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Vimmen | HP 25/25 | Armor 2+1 | XP 6 It's Sammi, the monster girl. She seems distressed! "I haven't seen him, but I've been... indisposed. I say, Sammi, do you have it? The antidote, I mean." Vimmen tries not to betray how desperate he is, or what an indignity it is that he must seek such base, non-Boltean means of purification. But with the constant sweating, shallow breathing, and white-knuckle grip on his iron staff, it's obvious that he needs help. The paladin kneels and holds Sammi by the arms, trying to get her to focus her wild eyes on him. He gulps dryly, his tongue feeling as though afflicted by a dessication hex. "Tell me now, girl - did you finish the cure?"
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Sep 15, 2014 17:59
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Rory Watchtower HP: 27/27 Armor: 1 XP: 3/8 "Calm, girl," Rory said, a little annoyed by Sammi's panic ruining his buzz, "Don't forget that this is Icarus' town. He probably went down to the dock to prepare the ship and I agree with him; I don't want to hang around this boonie any longer than I need to. Althought, I do like the local brand of partying." He said nonchalantly, eyeing the burning blaze as the first drops of rain sizzled into the inferno. "Besides, I don't think he'd just run off when his hometown is on fire! Everyone is sure to meet up here eventually." Turning to Vimmen, Rory gave him his opinion on the situation with the town hall. "I haven't seen any action over at the town hall yet, and I've been here all night." He neglected to say doing what. "I can only assume that means the stealth plan is still underway. Gods know Sia is going to cause some noise when she starts fighting, that's when I turn the doors into toothpicks." After a pause, he rolled his head on his neck and groaned. "drat, rain. Now I'm bored. Look, I'm definitely hungry for some more action if you want to march our way in and slaughter the garrison; as little of a fight these piss-licking dogs put up. I can turn that gate into shrapnel and we can meet Sia and Rags inside." He seemed to notice at this point that Sammi was still here, "Oh yeah, your security blanket is inside somewhere. I guess that's another reason we can bust in and bust heads." "So what do you girls say; should I go up and knock?"
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Sep 15, 2014 19:09
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Sammi Cubrick HP: 23/23 Wyrd: 2, XP: 4 Sammi tried to lean away from the Paladin, but even through his weakness Vimmen's grip is like iron. She hides behind her fringe, both trying to look the man in his eyes, and avoid it at all costs. Rory was trying to reassure her in his own way, she appreciated that. Even if she got the distinct impression that she'd actually pissed him off. Icarus would turn up, he had too. Now there was just the issue of the possibly soon to be crazed paladin. "W-Well... W-We made a-a cure, it's not t-totally finished t-though... I-I don't know what it's e-effects will be though! We were t-trying to get the l-last few things to i-improve it. Some bark, refining it in the stills under there, or using my... p-powers to enhance the effects..." Sammi squirmed in his hands, feeling awful that she was withholding the cure from the man, and terrified of the possibilities if she'd made the mixture worse. Thank the gods that Rory was standing next to them, at least he could intervene if Vimmen got too rough. "U-Ummm. W-Well if you w-want t-t-to go and introduce yourself I-I'm not going to stop you..." Sammi winced "Ah! P-Please let go... y-your hurting me..."
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Sep 15, 2014 20:00
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Vimmen | HP 25/25 | Armor 2+1 | XP 6 Vimmen releases the girl, turning aside to fume. "Bark... Powers..." He smacks the iron staff into the ground with a grunt. "Yah! Bolt, what is the purpose of this nonsense? A paladin is meant to be self-sufficient! A paladin is not meant to rely on the help of others! A paladin doesn't need friends!!" His words echo into the night, unanswered. He takes a deep breath before turning back to glare at Rory. "Make your entrance whenever you like, giant. Until then, keep the girl safe. I need to recover the Chronicle; it's the only way I can-- It is my duty." He glances at Sammi once more before whipping around and tottering towards the town hall side-door that Icarus mentioned earlier.
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Sep 15, 2014 21:44
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Sammi The Paladin's words stung. He may has well have slapped Sammi in the face. She watches him go, storming off towards the side door. Mouth agape. She wavers uncertainly where she stands. Looks down to the ground, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Cogs clearly turning in her head. Then with a cry of desperation, she runs after Vimmen. With his pace slowed by the poison she does not have to go far to catch him up. "Wait! Stop!" She reaches out a hand to his arm. A small gesture, begging attention. Regardless of his response she ploughs on ahead. "Get me inside to the basement and I can refine the potion in the stills. Make it better! That's all I ask... A-And if you're unwilling t-to grant me t-that, then t-take it now a-and pray that B-Bolt favours you." There was a forceful edge to her voice that seemed at odds with Sammi's usual manner and yet there was also a pleading look in her eye. The look of someone who was trying their best against something far out of their league. Desperate, concerned, and resolute.
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Sep 15, 2014 22:52
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Rory Watchtower HP: 27/27 Armor: 1 XP: 3/8 The only answer Vimmen gets from Rory is booming laughter. "Sammi, I think Bolt has blessed the good paladin too many times for his head to handle. That or he's reached the point where that poison makes him crazy. Either way, I support the idea of storming in while he lacks the sanity to stop me." he shares with the tiny girl, all the while climbing over a heap of broken stalls where he had flung his sword earlier. "If you are not still looking for Icarus, best go with the old man. I feel he is going to need whatever sick brew you've whipped up for him. Besides, I don't think you'll survive the way I'm going in." Wrenching his greatsword free of a fallen trunk of wood, he hung the blade in place on his back and began a full run at the front doors of the town hall, pushing through pedestrians and debris in his path to his soon to be demolished destination. Halfway there, he remembered to put his horned helm on before making contact with the door. At the last moment, Rory leveled his shoulder at the door as the iron bindings and hinges snapped apart and wood exploded inwards. There may have been no one outside guarding the door anymore, but Rory secretly hoped there would be guardsmen on the inside. If there had been any, however, he would have never known, as the one-man stampede turned them to pulp like the sawdust that once separated the building from the market. In a fury, Rory stormed into the first room and grabbed the nearest person he could find, lifting them by their head and he shook them vigorously, like a mad dog. "BLOOD AND RICHES!" the battlecry rang through the building, shivering the timbers to the bone Juggernaut, town hall door: 2d6+2 12 Momentum carries me though the door and I take no damage. Combat dice never fail me!
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Sep 15, 2014 23:25
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Vimmen | HP 25/25 | Armor 2+1 | XP 6 The paladin is surprised by the tug at his sleeve. The poison that clogged his veins also clouded his head, and weighed upon his soul in a way that made everything outside himself seem nagging at best, an impassable obstacle at worst. But the way Sammi spoke - even through her stutter, Vimmen could tell she had gumption. And she wanted to help him, no matter how rude he'd been. He bares his teeth in a conciliatory snarl. "Fine. Come along, then. Best to be praying to Bolt regardless, girl - it may come that I cannot protect you." Even though he wants to relent from his brusque demeanor, it won't do any good until the poison is purged and the Chronicle is safe - and now with the girl to watch over, he can't spare a moment for tenderness. Vimmen approaches the side door slowly, keeping a lookout for nearby Imperials. He runs his hands around the edges of the door, tests it to see if it's locked or trapped. Unable to discover anything in particular, Vimmen shrugs and gives it a light knock. Discern Realities: 2d6 4 Womp womp. XP 6 -> 7 Edit: Just saw the post above. These approaches could not have gone more differently haha
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Sep 15, 2014 23:37
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Sia HP: 23/23 Armor 0/0 XP 6/8 No sooner does the guard peek through the view-port, than I've slammed my fingers through his eyes. I hook my fingers in his eye sockets to hold the screaming man's face against the door. My other hand punches through the door about waist height, I feel about and grab the keys from his belt and unlocking the door before releasing him to crumple to the floor sobbing. Luckily these idiots wrapped me in chains at the scene, so I don't have to track down my gear. I hear shouting all around, some soldiers yelling about a fire, others yelling about me, and others still that I can't make out. I slip into a narrow corridor, and stick to the shadows. I begin my search for the book, the treasure, and/or Rags. In that order. Defy Danger +DEX 11
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Sep 16, 2014 03:10
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Sammi Sammi followed him, her hands clutched tightly to the hilt of her knife. She prayed she didn't have to use it.
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Sep 16, 2014 18:59
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Sammi and Vimmen: The side door is just where Icarus told you it would be, tucked in beside one of the buttresses supporting the building. It's a tilted cellar door, shielded from the sprinkling rain by an overhang. Vimmen inspects the weathered wood carefully, but... looks like this one's just a normal door, sadly. When he knocks, the door swings open, moving on perfectly-oiled hinges. Surely this should be kept locked, right? The cellar below is pitch black, and the smell of ancient dust rises to meet you. Raindrops blow past you into the dark... The cellar is too dark to see anything; looks like you have torches, but even still it'll be pretty hard to find your way around, and anybody down there will be able to find you easily. Oh yeah, and then this happens: The whole building shudders as the century-old oak doors of the town hall splinter into dust before the might of Rory. Chunks of masonry scatter over the entrance hall floor. The guards posted at the door are sent flying, one howling with confusion and surprise, the other dead. A bespectacled clerk across the room freezes, paralyzed by fear. The pair of porters who were just entering the hall glance at each other, then dump the large valise they were carrying and flee for their lives. The door guard manages to find his feet just in time for Rory to snatch him into the air and scream in his face. He promptly faints dead away -- probably a wise decision. For a few moments the town hall decends into chaos, with soldiers running towards you stymied by everyone else running away from you. Looks like somebody managed to organize some soldiers to come and at least try to stop you, though. Two halberdiers in blue tabards kick in the opposite door and move into the room, taking up positions to shield a pair of crossbowmen and what looks to be an Imperial pyromancer. Their lieutenant hangs back, barking orders to bring you down like the dog you are and so on and so forth. The lieutenant's eyes are filled with mad glee at seeing the destruction you've wrought, but his men stare at you as one might stare at the face of Death itself. The clerk still hasn't moved. Rags, the guards salute nervously and head out of the cellar, leaving you alone with the riches. Sadly, you've barely had time to eye them greedily when a chorus of panicked shouts and screams echoes through the building. Corporal Wintervane rushes in, saluting smartly despite her obvious shock. "Sir! Some kinda giant or something just attacked the building! Everybody's looking for ya, nobody's giving any orders 'cept for Lt. Marendon, and uh not to be insubordinate but he's kinda nuts sir! W-what do we do, sir??" You can see a few panicked civilians wavering outside the door, looking in at you. They must've latched on to her when the attack started. Defy Danger or Cpl. W's gonna see right through you -- you don't actually know how to command an Imperial unit, I'm guessing. Sia, you're lucky everyone's suddenly so busy; normally wandering around with that much blood on you tends to raise a few questions. The poor bastard you just killed had keys to quite a few doors in the building, and between that and the general lack of attentiveness you're able to move around pretty easily. After maneuvering through the building for a while, you hear some people talking about finding the Senator, and trail them to the trap door leading into the cellar, just off the kitchens. Rags must be down there, you can hear the Corporal talking to megane fucked around with this message at 09:34 on Sep 17, 2014 |
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Sep 17, 2014 09:25
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Sia HP: 23/23 Armor 0/0 XP 6/8 I continue creeping around, pleased to find this trapdoor to what is obviously THE BIG TREASURE ROOM. One thing, just gotta get by any witnesses. Easy. I pick up a small pebble someone must have tracked in from outside, with just a hint of my power I flick it over the heads of the people in my way so that it makes noise down a side hallway so I can slip into the treasure room. Defy Danger +DEX 8 But something happens... gently caress.
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Sep 17, 2014 09:33
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Rory Watchtower HP: 27/27 Armor: 1 XP: 3/8 Five guys, that's all they muster to deal with me? What an insult. Rory was already in the middle of the room as the halberdiers took up position, swinging the soldier locked in his grip like an over-sized flail. Battering his way into the formation, Rory used the prior guardsman as both weapon and shield, countering the reach of the polearms with the body of their fallen comrade and bowling them out of his path. If there was one thing Rory knew about combat, casters die first, and the pyromancer was only a few steps away from their commander, too. "Come-on, assholes! Give me all you've got!" Hack and Slash; and mangle and dismember: 2d6+2 8 Damage: 1d8 8 Armed and Dangerous: When you pick up an enemy and swing them around, count them as a weapon with the Reach, Awkward, and Forceful tags.
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Sep 17, 2014 15:21
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Sammi Cubrick HP: 23/23 Wyrd: 2, XP: 4 The darkness beckoned the pair down the stairs, Sammi gulped nervously. What a creepy basement, almost like it was some kinda of trap. Ha Haha Haaa.... Sammi lit her torch and tried to shine it's light down the stairwell. The blackness beyond was still foreboding. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea? Maybe they should... No. She couldn't run away, she'd already done enough of that tonight. Sammi gathered her courage and started moving down the stairs carefully. "I-I'll go first, w-watch your step, it looks steep..." She squeaked and jumped back as dust sprinkled down and the structure groaned from the impact. Rory might just end up burying them. Sammi waited a few moments to see if there would be further tremors. Running a hand through her hair to get both it and the dust out of her eyes. An idle thought passed through her head, that this might have something to do with the explosion of Wyrd earlier. Sammi really hoped that it wasn't. The Wyrd was dangerous and unpredictable at the best of times. She tried to control her beating heart and she took one step and then another. Descending into the unknown darkness, holding the torch above her head, trying to not blind herself with the flame. --- megane posted:Defy Danger or Cpl. W's gonna see right through you -- you don't actually know how to command an Imperial unit, I'm guessing. Defy Danger (INT): 2d6+2 7 Kinda sorta maybe  Rags "Ah, Corporal Wintervane, your orders are to get those civilians out of the building. They are your first priority. Then, round up as many of ours as possible and get them out too. We have enough wounded without throwing the able bodied at a giant. I will engage the attacker and lead it away from the town hall." Rags picked up the book and turned to leave the room. "You're a good soldier with potential Wintervane, do not waste that potential by dying pointlessly."
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Sep 17, 2014 20:43
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