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Ramona 20/24 HP; 12/12 XP; 4 Armor; 11/11 Load, Confused I pop open a clip of my rifle ammo hand Nori some flechettes. The rifle isn't muscle powered but if her opponent tries to wrestle at all he can push the tacks into himself. "Spike up your armor, never know when it'll get you first blood." I point out the areas where you don't want to get grabbed and won't interfere with your range of motion or accidentally spike yourself. Then I whisper at her advice she probably doesn't want to think about but could save her life, which matters more than solving anything a particular way if you ask me. "If you want to stop the fight without surrendering and losing all your gear, then you spike yourself in a scuffle. Make it look painful and say you'll meet again or something."
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Jul 8, 2017 16:59
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Nori 23/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 2/11 | load 8/14 "Awww gently caress." I groan. I pull out my sword, but do not activate it. Yet. I nod at Ramona's advice and address the Triton leader. "Shuul! Clear a sphere and I will duel you and you alone to secure this alliance between our peoples, and that includes negotiating shared access to the translocator! Will you fight? or will you flee!?"
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Jul 9, 2017 09:40
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Serenity HP 20/20 | Weak | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 5/13 Hold 2 on Isurus "...So. What just went horribly wrong, and is there anything I can do to fix it?"
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Jul 9, 2017 09:57
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NORI Your voice falls into the hush like a boulder into a still pond. The lurking Dolphins charge out from behind your ship and give voice to their own cacophonous, unanimous war-cries! The blockading troops shrink back, then raise their voices in acclamations of their own - and then every last one of them kind of goes apeshit bananas for a couple minutes, including the shuul. You’re….pretty sure they like the idea of an honor duel. Try not to think too hard about the consequences for your colonists, and for Ikaria, if you should chance to lose. When the metaphorical dust settles, you and the shuul are at antipodes on the equator of a hollow sphere, roughly thirty feet in diameter, its circumference defined by close-packed ranks of triton spectators. The closest shells hold a dim boundary-ring of cold-burning algal lanterns, pale green, blue, or violet, marking the edge over which you must not be thrown. Dolphin, Shark, Amber and Turtle, all alike: all the clans have gathered together to see the outcome, absolutely none of them have put their weapons aside, and you’re not 100% sure anymore which ones are supposed to be the adoring fans and which ones won’t hesitate to pounce on the one who proves a coward or a murderer. The shuul’s massive frame is a black cutout against the dim light. The three tines of his pearled trident glint dangerously against the backdrop, scabbarded at his side; likewise the pair of thin sharp javelins slung across his back, and the short curved barb of a coral knife at his other hip. He’s come armed for bear. You? You’ve got that ancient sword - think he’ll respect it when it’s nothing but an inert bar of metal here in this ring? It certainly can’t be anything else unless you want to put yourself in breach of protocol, and I really don’t think you do. You’ve got your combat armor, a short coil of rope, your headlamp/zoom goggles combo, and twenty or thirty little needle-pointed flechettes from Ramona: oversized, extra-thick sewing needles with a counterweight at the tail for stability in flight. They’re awkward, but sharp, and if you use them like regular throwing darts you might get the pointy end to stick in something. The flechettes are (hand, thrown, 1 damage), and you have 1-use of them. An anticipatory silence falls as the tidecallers’ envoy Serat enters the ring. She raises her pearl-tipped rod and iridescent light shines out to illuminate the ring. “When the sac I carry flares red,” she calls out, “the duel will begin. It ends when blood is shed, or a duelist submits, or a duelist passes the lantern-ring. Are you prepared?” “COME!” the tritons’ war-leader roars, smashing a fist against his chestplate again so it clangs like a gong - wild cheering backs his words. “I will not submit! Face me, blade-to-blade - liar, thief, and scoundrel! You have learned nothing from the lessons of your city’s sink! You think mighty Aixi would ally with this filthy little shoal of fluke-ridden derrick-humpers? Hah!” His boast is extravagant, and not without heat - but judging from the way your side was cheering him on before the derrick-humpers crack, at least some of that was to please the crowd. He bows formally to you; you make your confirmations and salute him in return. The sorceress flourishes a cloth bag tied with vivid red thread over her head, crushes it in her fist, and tosses it gently out into the water - then dashes, legs pumping, to exit the center of the dueling grounds. The spectators fall deathly quiet.  The timer sac floats there for a few agonizing, time-stretched seconds...and then suddenly it flares an actinic red! Immediately the shuul springs into lethal action - he snatches a javelin from the quiver at his back, throws himself into a legs-pumping forward sprint, and then hurls the weapon right for your throat! Defy Danger +DEX! He's at near from you and rapidly closing to reach unless you start What do you do? *** RAMONA You’re at 11/12 flechette ammo - mark that unit off. What do you do? MADI You're with a bunch of the Dolphins, next to Ramona, watching all this nonsense go down. What do you do? SERENITY Hold, please. Your Bardic Lore applies to the members of the triton Pearl Clan: ask me any question about them and you'll get a truthful answer. Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 04:30 on Jul 10, 2017 |
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Jul 10, 2017 04:27
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Nori 23/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 2/11 | load 8/14 I flex my grip on the deactivated sword, merely a metal bar with a handle without the weird blue glowing blade thing switched on. Shuul may be a war-leader, but he's no different than any too-proud deckhand in a port with more whiskey than brains in his head. He thinks because he's bigger, that all he has to do is charge at me. Like many deckhands before him, he's gonna learn why that idea is dumb as fuckin poo poo. An idea hits me, like lightning, its not gonna be enough to bloody this rear end in a top hat. I might win the day, but there's nothing stopping him from getting pissy and calling for another duel tomorrow, or next week, or next year. No. If we're gonna survive this, I gotta win this war before it starts. Not just win, but break him. And do it in front of his people. I have to outclass him so hard he'll respect me, or fear me, I'm not feeling picky. Defy Danger 10 I narrow my focus to just the out-thrust points of his trident, nothing else matters or exists until it needs to. I kick a web-toed foot at just the last moment, moving a couple inches to the side and twisting so that the trident passes me harmlessly. Now I'm inside his guard. I slam my sword down on the shaft of his weapon, knocking it from his grasp, as I twist further around, rolling over his shoulder and centering my mass between his shoulder blades. You're mine now, silt-sucker. I whip the sword around his thick neck, grasping both ends and hauling back on his throat with all my might, pressing my knees into is back and arching myself to put as much pressure on him as my much smaller frame can bring to bear. I watch the gills flare on his flanks, I know I'm not choking him out, but I also know it's gotta hurt like hell. I could bloody him easily. He knows it, I know it, everyone in the crowd knows it. But I don't, and the fact he's helpless in my grasp is a humiliation, he thrashes but I just haul back harder. He draws his little coral knife, flailing back at me and swinging too wide to threaten me. The flailing gets slower as I can feel him start to tire, I ease my hold just a fraction, just enough to put my mouth to his ear. "Listen to me rear end in a top hat. You are a creature of the sea, but so are my people. We can't go anywhere else, just like your people can't. I know this, and so do my people. This is why I want peace between us. Because we're all loving stuck here. Your threats and your bluster are nothing, but even that nothing represents a threat to our survival. I can't-I WON'T tolerate that threat. You think I'm your big scary problem today? This boat is full of hundreds of me. The oppressed mutant underclasses of Aqualantis itself are thousands of me. You can't even handle one of me, right here and now. You will ally with us, as an equal partner in the future of Aqualantis and this very sea, you will yield this duel to me, and join your forces with mine, and we will scrub the rot of Karthas Murgo from our loving home." Error 404 fucked around with this message at 07:00 on Jul 10, 2017 |
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Jul 10, 2017 06:50
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Serenity HP 20/20 | Weak | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 5/13 Hold 2 on Isurus Serenity doesn't like to dwell on the negative, but having a plan is never unwise. In the end, her ultimate goal of finding Gretchen remains the same. She will not permit herself to be killed, even if she has to turn her back on Ikaria and Aqualantis. If things should go badly and a war erupts, what would Serenity have to do for the Pearl Clan to grant her safety and refuge? If it's even possible. I presume rites, acts of purification, and some form (or forms) of service would be necessary.
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Jul 10, 2017 14:07
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NORI His first cast of the spear is merely to get the range - you’ve got plenty of time, whole seconds, to slip aside. The baying crowds part like a school of red snapper as the hurled missile whips past you and away. Now he’s got you nailed, knows he can close with you before you can get away - glorying in his battle-lust and the cheering crowd, hungry for a quick and decisive victory to rip away your pride. Or so he thinks. He thought you a landlubber like the others, an unsuited intruder to the pelagic depths - slow and clumsy, no equal to the oceanborn - but he thought wrong. The crowd goes wild as you slip his tines and strike his wrist with a quick, efficient club-thrust! Pain and surprise play equal parts in his disarmament - from the way he flinches involuntarily as the thaumium hits home, you think he was half-expecting you to come fully armed...and if you were, he’d have lost his hand just then! A gleeful Dolphin snatches the tumbling weapon right out of the water and whizzes whooping out of the spectators’ shell - a great cry of anger and dismay from the enemy clans, but they can’t stop the thief - the shuul’s trident is by rights his lawful prize! Your Dolphin allies shake the water with their taunts and jeers, roaring with approval as you slip inside his foreshortened guard and pin him beneath a savage submission hold. His eyes bulge in outrage as you deliver your cutting speech in a voice just loud enough for him to hear. “Thousands…” he growls. You’re driving him closer and closer to the bottom of the ring, down towards the lights of Ikaria shining in welcome below. He twists and writhes in your pinioning grip, snarling and eye-rolling, every triton around shouting their gills out -- just a few seconds more -- -- suddenly he threshes every single muscle in his back at once, snapping his body into a tight-bowed arc - over and over again he bucks in your grip like a hooked fish wrestling against the fisher’s hands - and your heart leaps into your mouth when, out of nowhere, the scrape of metal on stone comes skittering off your armor’s back! gently caress gently caress gently caress where did that come from, you’re not armored head-to-toe back there, or at all, really - all it’d take is one cut in the wrong place to end it all! You can’t risk this any longer, not with how crazy he’s moving right now - no choice but to let him go! As soon as you do he’s on you again, first with a ripping knife-swipe at your ankles as you kick him a few inches farther down, then feinting at you with quick aborted rushes. So close to the boundary-ring, you can see the ace up his proverbial sleeve clearly - his leg-fins are edged with long resinous ribbons, converging on a flexible counterweight at their tips on which is mounted a small, sharp coral spine. You’re forced to give a little ground, swim up a little ways - no easy defense against the lashing edges of his fins. It only works for so long, though, before you get wise and start following up with dart-tosses of your own - he has to abandon that tactic lest you catch his flowing fins with a stray flechette. Now he’s mad. His voice is thick with scorn and rage. “Our home. ‘Shira shi’me, you think I want to live here? Are you actually as stupid as you look? Where does the food come from, Nori Maki?! You gonna feed your thousands on sea-bass and what? Keep the sea out with what? Breathe what?! K’schraaaa!!” He gulps in a great chestful of seawater and wails out a long, scraping war-cry, and his tidecaller consort begins to raise her voice in song. Don’t be fooled - the bone-shaking, magic-laced intensity you remember her kin capable of is nowhere to be heard. She’s nothing but an ordinary songstress now...but try telling his troops that. Or the shuul, for the matter. He’s pumped up and ready for a fight to the bitter end, and his troops are picking up the beat and shouting along to Serat’s cues, each and every one of them spurring their champion on. Oh, and the Dolphins are getting in on the mix too. Fight songs are apparently 100% legal within the confines of gladd yagg thuun as long as there’s no magic backing them - so much the better for you, because now the real fight begins. He’s got his last javelin in hand, the knife in a reverse grip, and you just know that spear’s coming your way the second you start decelerating or trying to pull a tight turn that bleeds momentum off your continued ascent. Round 2. Fight. *** The shuul is close. You’ve won his grudging respect, and maybe a little fear...but not the duel, not yet! To break him the way you want him broke, or even just to best him at combat, you’ll have to go another round, and this time do it while he’s forewarned! Defy Danger +INT to anticipate and outwit him, or +CON to outmaneuver and exhaust him. On a 7+ you’ve won, he has no choice but to submit! To seek a victory by first blood instead, roll Hack and Slash or Volley. On a 7+, you struck first - victory is yours! No matter the roll, on a 10+ it’s a flawless victory - you don’t just win but do it unscathed too! On a 6-, you’ll be in a bad spot, but even if you do fail, it’s not over yet... What do you do? Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 06:24 on Jul 15, 2017 |
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Jul 15, 2017 06:06
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Nori 23/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 2/11 | load 8/14 Defy Danger (CON) 12 I swim like hell to keep space between us, after a moment I force myself to slow a bit, let him think I'm getting tired aaaaaand...there. He flings his javelin, and I twist once more at the last moment, avoiding harm and also plucking the drat thing from the water. I glare at him from across the dueling space, making eye contact, and snapping the javelin over my knee and dropping the pieces to sink like trash. I kick off, swimming even harder as the enraged triton thrashes after me in the water. Left with only his small knife and those ridiculous spiked ribbons, I've seized the advantage again so long as he can't reach me. I twirl and turn, he's at home in the water, an even better swimmer than me, but there's a universal constant of big muscled rage-men. They're hauling a lot of mass and everyone gets tired sooner or later. I watch him, his charges become sluggish, his gills heaving and pulsing under exertion. I let him think he's caught me, and push off again with a kick to his jaw. I slow again to let him think he's got me, dodging around another clumsy thrust of his knife and pulling off the same maneuver again that I'd started this fight with, putting my deactivated blade across his throat and pulling him taut. Over-leveraging him. This time I shout to be heard. "Yes, you dumb motherfucker, Our home. Not just the city of Aqualantis, but this whole sea. Our. Home." I loop my arm around his throat, keeping grip on my sword, and produce a final flechette I'd palmed in my other hand. I point it directly at his eye. My mouth hovers near whatever he calls an ear to speak once more so only he can hear me. "Will you yield now as an honorable, mighty, and equal opponent, or do I take your eye along with my victory over you?" Error 404 fucked around with this message at 06:59 on Jul 15, 2017 |
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Jul 15, 2017 06:53
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SERENITY “I’m...not….sure?” Dr. del Moreno hazards, watching her sonar display with bemusement as every triton around abandons their positions to gather in a great hollow sphere, enclosing Nori in its centre along with the opposing triton shuul. “Some sort of...honor duel? I think?” She rubs hard at her eyes, anxiety and creeping tension plain in the set of her shoulders. “This ship is unarmed. What the gently caress does she think she’s doing? We have a hundred twenty souls on board not counting us, there’s barely enough food or water on this ship to last everyone six hours, let alone six days, and the enviro plants are on the verge of a nervous breakdown. What the hell am I supposed to do if she fucks this up, Serenity? Take all these poor people to Aqualantis and watch them get slaughtered? Gods, she promised them the moon on a stick...what the hell are they going to do when they realize all we can offer them is our little hole in the rock? We don’t even have beds for them all yet!” She’s...kind of got a point, actually. If this goes pear-shaped, with this many people crammed together like sardines, things could get ugly really fast. Not that they aren’t already ugly, but hey -it could be worse. Maybe you’re thinking along the right lines - always best to have a backup plan. Never forget what you’re here for, after all - beyond love and goddess, beyond war and mystery and neurovore, the mystery of your missing granddaughter must not be allowed to go unsolved forever. The tritons’ Pearl Clan is small and insular, but they command wealth and influence disproportionate to their numbers, and the glistening bauble you saw atop Serat’s rod of office is the chiefest reason why. Their mages and artisans hold an unbroken monopoly on the cultivation of those magic-infused pearls, and to purchase one demands a princely sum. They’re prized the world over as ritual foci and as vessels for enchantment - even the high lords and ladies of the Elven Dominions are known to covet them. They might take you in - the tritons have been known to grant asylum to other aquatic races before, in times of persecution or disaster - but never to a highborn of the House Greymist, let alone one estranged and hunted by that selfsame family. Your loyalty to their nation would need to be put beyond question without delay - mere defection wouldn’t be nearly enough. You’d need to give them something potent, something that leads to a decisive Aqualantean defeat. Information, probably: the kind of strategic intelligence they can’t gather on their own, but if received and actioned, has the potential to shift the war decisively in the tritons’ favor. That’d get your foot in the door, and guaranteed asylum for any of these short-lived roundears, but you, with your deep-rooted family ties, will find it a little harder to be entirely trustworthy in the eyes of the arch-conservative Pearls, diplomats and merchants by trade. Your disloyalty to the Dominions which spawned you would also need to be proven beyond doubt. The ways of the Primes are slow and subtle, as patient as the planets in their orbits - and they just so happen to be the clan’s biggest customer when it comes to the pearl trade. You’d have to put something else on the table, something valuable enough for the clan’s leaders to risk a catastrophic disruption in trade - something that proves you’re willing to sever all ties to the elven nation and to its gods who brood atop the spires of High Clarity. Lastly, you’d need to take all that information, all your explosive dossiers and king-toppling secrets - take it all to the littoral metropolis of Rasi’im, to present it to the vast blind Leviathan at their kingdom’s heart. He’s not head of state, exactly; not pope or generalissimo or president - but a case as sensitive as yours would need his royal assent, and approval, before your asylum could be granted. The Leviathan never leaves his great palace of gem-studded sea-stone...but then, he was far younger than he is today when those walls were first raised up around him. In what tale, song, or legend did you first hear of this last requirement? * * * * * * * * * NORI G’lybnus flings his final javelin to no success - his face flushes brick-red as you let the point bleed momentum against the flank of your body armor, then snatch the shaft as it flies and break it contemptuously across your knee. The chants and fight-songs from your side redouble in volume; and the singing from his side devolves into a mutually contradictory babel of shouted advice. Snarling, he charges you again and again, slashing at you with knife and fin-spine and sharpened nail - succumbing to his battle-fury in all-out desperation to shed your blood at last. But you, you keep your cool and husband your energy carefully - you lead him up and over in a gentle arc across the breadth of the dueling circle, dodging his wild, over-muscled charges or angling to catch his blades on your armor where they can do no harm. The cheers only grow louder from your side as they cotton to what you’re doing, and his men begin to groan and jeer in dismay - you’re not even trying to end this in blood, no intention to let him keep even a scrap of honor! When you finally let his iron grip close on you, you know he’s done for - he’s so far gone in rage he foregoes the technical win and comes howling right for your face! No little bloodshed he seeks to seal his victory, no, he means to deal you a grievous, disfiguring wound -- and as he reaches up to gore you, that’s when you deal him a powerful heel-kick right across his snarling jaw! He howls out his frustration and fury as you send him spinning, all restraint gone - and as he lashes out once more you whip your weapon across his throat, plant a knee in the small of his back, and push with everything you’ve got. The crowd falls dead silent. The tritons’ shuul has been outmatched, outsmarted, outfought - he’s utterly at your mercy, held at needlepoint by this lithe little slip of an Aqualantean his men all thought certain to fall. His sides are heaving like a foundered horse. He twists his head as best he can to look at you out of the corner of one wildly rolling eye. “And of course you bothered to ask before you named this sea your home,” he grates bitterly, just loud enough for you to hear. “Just like my father asked to be driven into penury when your ‘merchants’ came for his fishing stocks.” Suddenly his hands shoot out and grip your wrist hard where you hold the flechette against his eye -- you struggle, but can’t break free! “Enjoy this victory,” he hisses grimly. “May it be your last.” And with those final words, he slams his fists and yours straight into his face - and the spike you clench drives deep into his glaring, bloodshot eye. His scream of agony and defeat is all the signal the tritons need to know this duel is at its end. Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 13:39 on Jul 23, 2017 |
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Jul 23, 2017 04:44
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Serenity HP 20/20 | Weak | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 5/13 Hold 2 on Isurus "Calm down, doctor. I know the stakes are critically high, but Nori is no less aware of that than you are. Tritons are a martial people and this is probably the safest move we can make. I'm willing to get on my knees and beg for everyone's safety it I have too, but if she wins this trial that will make a stronger point than anything I could manage. If she fails? Well, than we just die a little sooner than we otherwise would." Serenity crouched down and silently wished this place weren't so drat crowded. Bottom of the ocean and with heat barely a consideration with life support struggling to ensure breathable air - and she was sweating. Hypothermia had been fighting with oxygen deprivation over which would get to kill her first on the walk to Ikaria, and now all she could think of was how refreshing it would be to be out of here and into that cold, cold water. "I'll head out there and do what I can to keep things calm." At that, Serenity got back to her feet and threaded her way out of the overcrowded bridge and made her way to the airlock. She strapped a breather on, made certain it was secure, and cycled the system. As the outer door opened, she was greeted by raucous celebration and angry protests in equal measure. In the short span of her exit it seemed Nori had entirely trounced her enemy. drat, girl. So many bodies in the water. She could scarcely see ten feet ahead of her as she tried to locate Ramona. Serenity is trying to find her companions, or barring that, Isurus. Somebody she knows.
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Jul 24, 2017 03:36
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Nori 23/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 2/11 | load 8/14 The second that little flechette was driven through his eye I pushed away from the triton. Before the crowd could overtake us I left him with a final message. "I'm sorry for how my ancestors came here, but I am not them. If leaving were a real option we'd take it. For what its worth I meant what I said about this full partnership business. Anyone trying to push you out will get far worse from me than you've seen." I twist around and swim for the place the crowd is thinnest, heading back to the sub to carry the news. The water was so thick with people I probably don't notice Serenity out here.
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Jul 24, 2017 06:42
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RAMONA It’s devilish hard for you to get a clear picture of just what the gently caress Nori’s up to, hemmed in as you are by close-packed ranks of hooting fightboys on every side - and stuck in the back rows, no less! They jostle and shout and holler, waving weapons and shields around with no regard for the safety of their neighbors - distinctions of friend and foe have temporarily broken down in the wake of the tritons’ incandescent enthusiasm for a good round of gladd yagg thuun. Maybe you should’ve thought to start taking bets. You’re no stranger to a turn in the pit, after all...and unless your memory fails you, the last time this sort of thing went down, it ended rather profitably for your little group of The cheers and groans roar out from either side, swelling and falling as the unseen battle grinds on - only to at last erupt in a wild joyful frenzy from your Dolphin allies! Nori’s won the match! The enclosing sphere of baying spectators breaks apart like a dandelion head, friend and foe swirling round one another and returning, begrudgingly, to their respective battle-lines under the urgings of Serat, Sheshteyn, and...is that Isurus? A little hard to tell when you can’t see the triton’s face - but it looks like it might be him. What do you do in between now and Serenity’s post? *** SERENITY O for the sweet kiss of icy water against your skin. The crowded corridors of the Hvalreki are no place for your newly beblubbered self. It’s a small away party out here aside from the Dolphins, only Ramona and Madi, yourself, and a very shaken Nori. She’s entirely unharmed, but you can tell the duel’s taken its toll on her, in exhaustion and adrenalin if nothing else. Small comfort for her vanquished foe. He’s already on his way out, swimming off at an oblique, accompanied by a small covey of...other tritons, I guess? From the way they’re keeping a carefully maintained separation from him, you’re not sure whether or not they’re meant to be bodyguards, aides, or witnesses. Even from this distance, the aura of desolation and bitter regret his demeanor projects is enough to chill your heart. One of his eyes is a gory red remnant; the other burns with unshed tears of rage. The new shuul greets you as you exit the airlock - and surprise surprise, it’s the prudent (and prudently entangled) Isurus who now has the honor to claim that title, accompanied by the tidecaller envoy Serat and a twosome each of honor guards. “G’lybnus has shamed us,” Isurus says to Nori regretfully, presenting his vulnerable throat to her in acknowledgement. “My lord Aixi will not look upon his recklessness with pride. I have been chosen as shuul in his stead. You have my personal assurance that my men will honor the truce you swore. Your tenacity and ingenuity are a credit to your tribe.” Behind you, a low, disbelieving susurrus from the assembled Dolphins, absolutely not listening in again as usual. He called them a tribe. What do you do?
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Jul 25, 2017 04:00
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Ramona 20/24 HP; 12/12 XP; 4 Armor; 11/11 Load, Confused Nothing goes wrong, so there's nothing for me to do other than stew. Unwelcome touches are bad enough without poisoned nerves heightening the discomfort–thank god for the armor's dulling the physical sensation–but I'm watching over Nori, and shoving people to keep my place where I can do so. Of course she wins, her opponent is a typical heavyweight with all the cunning and grace in battle and defeat I expect from them. A typical male, too, hence the reminiscing. I shudder. Mr. Atlantic turning that into a chance to try to woo me was nothing I wanted to remember. Of course that idiot escaped from Aqualantis after his injuries, there is no God. That's definitely Isurus. And that's definitely Nori running for the sub with a look on her face. Didn't get what she liked. I move with her. "Good fight. Don't sweat the guy's eye, that's his choice. Never be that proud." I'm being nice though. In truth, what she was trying to do was never gonna work. The only way out of the humiliation she was dishing out was more humiliating: surrender or ring out. He wasn't in a position to give her that other legitimacy stuff. That's another reason for spiking up your armor, in addition to letting you prick yourself also gives your opponent the same chance. To lose gracefully, as if by accident–the fight ends on a technicality that no one would deny you. Unless you're me, thanks to the curse. I know this because when I tried to grapple someone into sense during one of these stupid duels once. The idiot had found out about a pearl I had and wanted to duel me for it as a gift to his husband to be. He stepped in thinking I was choking the idiot to death–even though they need to already be unconscious for that–and skewered them accidentally when I dodged. I made a crude remark about waiting until after the wedding for the penetration, and did it have to be in public? There was no wedding after that, and no one duels me anymore. So I know to spike up, and don't need to. Suits me fine, I end up needing to carry people around too often, and spikes would just gently caress that up. Right on cue, there's Serenity talking to Isurus. I'm positive she's hypnotized him. His eyes are the same as Telsen's, just for a flicker when she's flattering him. I hope it's not a hallucination. I don't believe it is. If she hypnotized him, she freed him. A thrall's not nearly as useful as a prisoner, and now he's doing her bidding and has replaced the newly-minted cyclops. I smirk. Everything's coming up roses, and I've had nothing to do with it.
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Jul 25, 2017 19:22
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Serenity HP 20/20 | Weak | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 5/13 Hold 2 on Isurus Serenity shivered. The water felt absolutely rapturous after the sweltering heat of the sub. Swimming about, she came upon Isurus and Nori. They enchanged words that she couldn't make out and as a crowd of tritons passed by, she was absently buffeted aside and lost sight of them. As she righted herself, she thought she caught a glimpse of the tiny warlord making her way back to the sub. It was only fleeting, but she was certain she saw something in Nori's face. Anger? Sadness? Whatever it was, it seemed this victory had not come about entirely as she wished. Such was life. Kicking forward towards Isurus, she gave him a curtsy as best she could. "Sastana. I'm glad to see you well." She used an old, old term of address for the triton - one that predated any known historical records. It was one of the words that built the foundation of the tongue that eventually became modern elven. The same tongue Eudoxia had used in her last moments. Loosely, it meant that person owned your life. And considering how he had had her by the hair, a blade at her throat, and absolutely nothing but his own conscience to stop him, it was not remotely an incorrect term. It carried many other connotations, of course. Such things always did. It was all a matter of context and social station and the personal relationship between the individuals. It meant one thing for her as she said it, and it would mean another thing for Isurus as he heard it, and it would mean a third thing for those listening in. The only truly concrete thing that could be said is that Isurus held this elf's life in his hands, and he had the right to demand it, howsoever he saw fit. It was probably unwise of her to say that word, but Serenity did not shirk her debts. It was a similar situation with Ramona, with a similar word to go with it. The bounty hunter owned her soul as surely as Isurus owned her life, and that debt would also be paid unconditionally. "That blade suits you. I'm happy to lose it to someone worthy." She glanced about briefly, and thought she saw Ramona nearby, watching. Her attention quickly returned to the triton, holding him captive with her eyes. "I am afraid I was preoccupied with other matters, as well as escorting the Lady Serat. I know a duel was fought and that Nori Maki won, but I am not aware of the stakes. What is to happen now?"
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Jul 26, 2017 02:00
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SERENITY ”Shallendo.” Isurus greets you with a shallow nod, his eyes fixed tight on the subject of his captivation. “You’ve come very far from home to reach this place, as have I. As have we all. Take this, in remembrance; and see me in private before we depart.” He gestures to the tidecaller at his side and she brings forward...oh my, what is this? A delicate spiraling confection of seashell and nacre, half-grown, half-fitted into a valve-studded armature of soft polished bronze - the shell’s great opening has been drawn up into a narrow aperture like the mouthpiece of a horn, and ringed tight with an intricate filigree of an unfamiliar cobalt-blue metal. “A gift, Shallendo, from the treasuries of my elder brother’s house. A great artifex of the house of Clearwater shaped it long ago, in partnership with mastercraftsmen of my kind.” Elven make, without a doubt it’s master’s work - but clearly inspired by, and built according to, the aesthetic standards of the tritons. It vaguely resembles the grotesquerie of the Aquatic Respirator Mk.1 that once graced your undeserving face, if it had been designed by elves and given a few hundred more generations to be bred into a less disgusting shape. How the hell are you supposed to play this thing, anyway? Your new triton conch-horn is 0-weight, can be played underwater, and you could probably Discern Realities on it. *** Later, when the ceremonies are done and his men prepare to depart, the new shuul meets you alone - a stern glare from him is enough to send a few wandering Dolphins scurrying away. “I have gone to see my elder brother,” he begins without preamble, “but I could not meet him face-to-face. My reassignment to G’lybnus’ troop was swift. News of your victories at arms have spread. We were instructed not to engage you. To avoid conflict whenever you and your companions were known to be.” He stops, eyes flickering with something like pain, and continues on: “There was a stranger with him. A landlubber. I saw her and Aixi, leaving the shuulob’s tent, close-twined, speaking together - and she had no need of air.” A sudden surge of wild, unreasoning hope in your breast. “When I, he was younger, I’d sneak away sometimes, go up to take the sunset - I saw him there, once, by accident, sporting in the surf - he looked like he did then. It was her. It was the same woman. I’m sure of it.” Gretchen. Isurus spent his last 2-hold - he gave you something you wanted and acted as your eyes and ears. *** *** *** RAMONA Isurus keeps a close and wary eye on you throughout the ceremonies and platitudes, but (typical) you don’t get anywhere the bowing and scraping Nori and Serenity yet. He probably thinks you’re just another Ikarian, crammed into that steel coffin you call a suit and utterly reliant on your advanced technology to survive beneath the waves. Well, joke’s on him - and maybe someday soon you’ll get a chance to prove him wrong. Or not, as the case may be - he can disdain your kick-rear end new powersuit all he likes when he’s dead. More interesting, maybe, is the tidecaller Serat - that clade of fishmen is one you’ve never had the chance to get to know, not even when you were just a little sprat diving for pearls. You catch her unguarded during the closing speeches, looking outward at where the disgraced G’lybnus vanished from sight - and the tiny, satisfied smile on one corner of her face is one you know well. She’s very happy her ‘consort’ fought and lost. “Now?” the new shuul says to Serenity beside you, and he raises his voice to speak to all: “Now your truce is honored. Now we depart in peace. Now we watch, and hold vigil: you for your bargain, me for mine. Good luck. May your victory be swift.” He looks out over you, at the Dolphins behind and Ikaria below, fixing it in his mind - this place, these people - the unlikely seed of a strange new nation now coming to the hour of its germination. Your friends have won a hard-fought truce, and bought their allies precious time to build, grow, and learn. But the war goes on, and orders are orders no matter who rules that sunken city - the tidecallers have issued their decree, and his elder brother commands the legions tasked with its demise. Now this young and prudent Shark stands watch over the one plot of ground where, just maybe, his soldiers will see fit to let these people take root. His eyes are as blank and calm as a great white shark. To you the warrior’s calculus behind his eyes is plain: the last shuul was a fool to meet you so. Open and exposed, all his men gathered tight and close - easy prey for the depth-charge or poison seep, for the acid-trap or the awful Reth. Better the sudden ambush, the lurk-and-pounce - and you know he knows you know it. Serenity must too. Hypnotized he is (was?), but you could tell she meant it when she called him her sastana. Some things a bard doesn’t joke about. (Right?) At last the time’s come. “May we meet again soon,” Shuul Isurus says, and with a sharp and echoing cry he and his men are gone. Ikaria lies unguarded beneath you. *** *** *** NORI G’lybnus, disgraced, gives no reply. He’ll never ally with you, but at least your Dolphin allies are now entirely devoted to your cause. That match was a battle for the ages - you can already hear their snatches of whistling song. Half of them probably joined up because anything is better than the oil-slicked squalor of life beneath the Raft - but now? You’ve got them totally convinced they (and you) could forge a newborn pelagic nation. Something unprecedented, shucked free of sclerotic tradition - as playful and savage as the dolphin that lends their infant tribe its name. And with further victories, perhaps even the impossible goal of triumph over the amorphous thread of a triton siege? What better way to prove to Aixi and his warmongers that your nation is fit to live than to claim its land by right of conquest? What better way to advertise to any and all that Aqualantis can survive, and thrive, under even the deadliest of threats? But inside the Hvalreki, things are much much different. It’s an atmosphere of quiet fear there, giving way to an exhausted and nervous relief when you spread the news you’ve won them peace for now. No celebrations, no raucous cheers - quiet thanks, a few tears, a new undercurrent of respect. At last, their chance to work and build - if only they can keep the sharks away. The scornful words of G’lybnus still echo in your ears. Breathe what, indeed? That part’s out of your hands, it seems - unless Aqualantis and far Ikaria need an electrician more than they need a heroine or mistress-of-state. To the Dolphins, all this still seems like one big party - but the Ikarians look on the new realities of their lives with sober fear. A triton might live down here, in the vast blue deep - but from whence comes their food? For that matter, from whence comes the Ikarians’ food? Fish are scarce at this depth, and what’s worse, it’s simply too deep, too dark, for plants to grow. That means farming, and farms need air, heat, light and soil - lights, wiring, fuels, machinery, and the machines and power to keep it all in tune. Once they were a few dozen researchers reliant on deliveries from home. Now, Ikaria must learn to feed hundreds. On its own. And for anything they can’t find or make, they’ve no choice but to rely utterly on their one piece of miracle-machinery - the stolen fruit of Warwick’s Wonderland - the translocator whose final pieces rest comfortably in your vessel’s hold. And if that should fail? Perish the thought. *** *** *** MADI It’s all done with now - the duel, the aftermath, the odd bit of slapping on quickseal onto an unlucky Dolphin wounded by an overenthusiastic speculator (read: the idiot’s best friend who is also an idiot because who brings a gaff to a pit fight and then waves it around like that) - all except for the sick family still isolated in your medbay. They don’t look any better, but at least they don’t look any worse. Has the contagion already slipped your net of quarantine? Probably not - the nurses are Ikarian, and you’re sure they’ve all been immunized - fortunate since they’ve been making their rounds like normal since you left, and if they’d been susceptible, Isha’s fungus might well have found a vector to the outside. No, it’s only the colonists who’re at great risk - and unknown risk at that; you’ve no clue who among them’s been immunized. You know the Alchemists’ Guild has been operating a clinic Raftside. but they weren’t exactly forthcoming with their medical records. Sooner or later (probably sooner, since the sub’s about to dock) you’ll have to make a choice. Can’t leave them alone in there forever. Do you treat them and let them go? It might well work. You’ve got only one dose of Guild-issue antitoxin left, and that elf Serenity has it. That potent alcahest could burn the spores right out of them, if it’s not too late, if it’s still potent when split among the four of them, and if you’re willing to expend your party’s last stock of it. Otherwise...what’s a doctor to do? Leave them in isolation? Treat them some other way? Toss them out the airlock? Actually leave them in there forever? Maybe, if you have no scruples (some of these Ikarians certainly don’t seem to) and you have a burning need to know just what the work of Isha Akkermans can really do. It’s up to you. What do you do? Everyone else, sit tight.
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Aug 3, 2017 04:45
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Madi Keller HP 22/22 | Armor 2 | XP 9/11 | Load 5/8 Finally done patching up spectators injuries (spectators, c'mon!) Madi catches sight of Ramona and drifts over. "Okay Barbie, you were a little out of it earlier but if you're tough enough to float around and menace a triton clan or three you can listen to me. I've got a lead on where this drat fungal plague was created and it's not gonna investigate itself. Tomorrow rolls around I'm going out there, with or without you and your pals." And with that Madi swims off, scouring the crowd to see if Serenity had slipped out to watch to duel. Probably should have grabbed a radio so they could just ask the Ikarians but, hindsight's often twenty twenty. Sooner or later Madi tracks down Serenity, and swims over. "Come out to watch the show or just stretch your legs outside of the tin can?"
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Aug 4, 2017 10:35
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Serenity HP 20/20 | Weak | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 5/13 Isurus... Two gifts right in a row, and the second was beyond priceless. It was concerning, his mentioning of Aixi and who he was positive was Gretchen appearing so very young. Magics, obviously, but what sort? Well. No sense worrying about it right now. She very much wished to chase after the new warlord and demand he take her to his brother, but things very still in a state of flux. Ramona would almost certainly demand to come along, and a reunion with a great grandchild did not need to have the bounty hunter looming over it. The matter of Aqualantis itself also remained, and Nashira's request of her. It had been eighty some years now. What was a few weeks more? As she watched the shuul gather his troops and head out, Serenity promised herself she'd find a way to repay him. After a few moments, she turned her attention to the conch horn. She turned it over in her hands, and eventually brought it to her lips and blew a soft note. Curious. Discern Realities: 2d6 9 +1 from Ramona's Aid for a 10. What should I be on the lookout for? What here is not what it appears to be? Who's really in control here? --- Serenity tore her attention away from the conch shell and gave Madi a wave. "Following your instructions. Exercise my legs and get those thigh muscles back in proper shape. They are my favorite muscles, after all. It was getting entirely too warm in there besides. And not really a situation where getting naked is appropriate. I appreciate Ramona finding me this bodysuit but I might have to ditch it already." She shrugged, seemingly untroubled by the thought. As the two of them talk, I presume eventually Madi will bring up the issue of the Antitoxin. Only a brief explanation will be necessary for the elf to hand it over.
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Aug 4, 2017 23:18
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Ramona 20/24 HP; 12/12 XP; 4 Armor; 11/11 Load, Confused My people use to play the conch shell, I remember dreaming of their ghosts in their patterned clothes dancing and playing around the fire, it's what made me want to be a bard back in the day. Fished a few out of the sea and used to play while they cheered and trained me, but when my living people and then of course the owners found out the latter shattered it to keep me assimilated and because they considered it obscene... "Give that here, I'll show you how it's done." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cRTXJHzL3s8 It's a fine reunion, even though my chops are shot and I can't go that loud or that long, but I sound good. The indigosteel mouthpiece is even just like the ones I dreamed about, from before enslavement. The vibrations make me want to move, work out, so when I catch Serenity's idle talk I jump in. "I can train you: better get your lips in shape if you want to do this thing justice. We can do your thighs too." Heh, imagine that role reversal. I'd be the cheerleader trying to get her through the workout. SidekickBOT - Today at 3:08 PM @slydingdoor: 2d6+2 aid = (3+3)+2 = 8
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Aug 5, 2017 00:09
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Serenity "I don't believe anything to do with my mouth is in need of training, thank you. And if you want to do anything with my thighs, I think you had best get your lips in shape."
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Aug 5, 2017 01:26
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Ramona 20/24 HP; 12/12 XP; 4 Armor; 11/11 Load, Confused I smirk, "Don't worry, I was talking up the instrument more than I was criticizing your embouchure..." Now I still feel gross from the crowd, my scars are burning, the color of the inside of my eyelids lit by the sun when I rested on the beach of my Paper Island is glowing synesthetically due to that goddamn thaumic radiation exposure, but I still toss a flirt back, like with my pocket before. I ask the conch "What do you think of the shape of my lips?" then I hold the instrument to my ear. "Hm, she says all I need is to warm up for a few hours and I'll be surprised how much might come flooding back to me."
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Aug 5, 2017 02:28
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Serenity "I should hope so." Serenity gave Ramona wicked smile. "My embouchure is lauded by everyone who's tasted it."
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Aug 5, 2017 02:49
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Ramona 20/24 HP; 12/12 XP; 4 Armor; 11/11 Load, Confused I ask the conch horn's opinion on that boast, listen, nod, put it back to my lips, then purse them, judging the flavor in pantomime. I continue my conversation with the instrument in mock wistfulness. "Yeah, it is just a bit one-note. I'm sure more play's in your future though." I clean the mouthpiece with a cloth and hand Serenity her instrument back. Common courtesy when you share instruments, and maybe I'm self-conscious, too.
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Aug 5, 2017 03:25
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SERENITY Hm. You’re not 100% sure, but you think that thing kind of does like the shape of her lips. You turn it over in your hands, exploring the convolutions of its shell, feeling out the arrangement of the instrument’s many stops and valves. It’s an extraordinary feat of lifeshaping - tritons rarely go in for this degree of complexity, and the Choir is usually beyond loath to share their secrets with another race. Isurus, perhaps, has gifted you more than he may have realized. There hasn’t been state-sanctioned collaboration like this between elf and non-elf since you were in your first century. Your Bardic Lore applies to the history of this instrument. If you first tell me in what story, song, or tale you first heard of the sea-snail that gave its life to become this conch-horn, you can then ask me any one question about it (or about the instrument it’s become) - I’ll answer truthfully. There’s something about the horn’s sound that surprises you. You set lips to mouthpiece and sound a tentative note - Isurus and Serat listen approvingly to its clear and penetrating tone, just a little bit louder and clearer than you’d expect from an instrument small enough to be held in one hand (but really better played using both). There’s a strange tingle on your lips when you take them away - reminds you a little of what Ramona and Nori told you descending into that open seafloor mana vent felt like. Only one explanation - the instrument’s been enchanted. Maybe it’s in the indigosteel of its mouthpiece, maybe the bronze framework defining its shape and anchoring the instrument’s fingering - and the conch in question was probably born and raised in a high-thaum-flux environment, incorporating the enchantment into each and every cell. If the Clearwaters truly had a hand in its making, you know their master craftsmen would spare no expense. Here in this magicless sea, all it seems to do is make the horn a little bit easier to be heard...and the performance artist in you is very excited to see what more it’ll do in more enchanting surroundings. But you didn’t make it to three hundred-ish without at least a little prudence. Your hypnotized sa'asthrana mostly just looks pleased and proud as you receive his gift with grace - but his companion Serat looks satisfied for another reason entirely. If you ever try to play this thing in open water, you’d better look out, because you’ll be painting “Serenity is here” in notes bright enough for everyone in earshot to hear. Good thing there’s a truce on right now, huh? Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 04:04 on Aug 9, 2017 |
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Aug 5, 2017 16:08
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Serenity HP 20/20 | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 5/13 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ulo853eeKB8 As Serenity studied the horn, a dawning realization came upon her. This was the Bodhi Shell. It was said that in ancient times, there lived a sea-snail that had the remarkable ability to speak. It was said that the snail had achieved enlightenment and become one with the universe, and so could converse with all living things. Similarly, having abandoned all material wants and needs, it was undying and eternal, and no predator dared harm it. Supposedly, one day, a fisher-woman came upon the snail in the shallows of some island. Understandably having no idea the unusual nature of the snail, she simply watched it go about its business. After a while, she jokingly inquired of the snail the secrets of the universe. The snail told her, and she was enlightened, and it is said the great western empires of men can trace their origins to her. The snail often appeared on other, similar tales. Usually as the catalyst to some great upheaval in the life of the tale's protagonist. In the end, though, it is said that the snail finally decided to take to the land and see what all fuss was about. Many years passed, and the snail journeyed, at a snails pace, throughout all the kingdoms of men and elf and orc and dwarf and all the rest before finally returning to sea. It said nothing to the tritons who awaited it at the water's edge. It simply pulled itself slowly forward, and once the water lapped about it once more it vanished, leaving only a shell behind. Serenity wasn't sure how much of any of that she really believed. But those stories clearly described the shell itself, and what was done with it, and this was an exact match. What does it really mean for Isurus to have given something like this to Serenity?
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Aug 6, 2017 04:08
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Madi Keller HP 22/22 | Armor 2 | XP 9/11 | Load 5/8 "Thank you. This is that family's best shot." There wasn't any serious doubt if the bard would hand over the antitoxin, even before Madi had explained that it was likely the only time it'd even have a chance at working. "I'd love to stay and listen to you play but..." Madi waves the vial a bit. "I am serious about the play. I'll admit a bit of a fascination with wind instruments on account of, well, not having a very good set of lungs and I'm, rambling a bit." Madi runs a hand across their head. "If you want to talk, swing by my office later if you have some time." And with a wave they turn and swim back towards the sub. Within Medbay Madi wastes no time, splitting the antitoxin into five doses with the medical staff. Maybe it was being overly paranoid to keep such a distance, or it could be keeping the infected from draining the very essence keeping the golem functioning. If this was made to consume raw magic as some anti-enchantment measure direct contact with the fungus could have disastrous effects on someone like Madi. Better safe than sorry, after all.
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Aug 6, 2017 12:54
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SERENITY Indeed, that’s how the tale goes: a living specimen of this species, carried from place to place, always in the company of those who later achieved some great and world-shaping feat. This can only mean one thing. Isurus thinks you’re Fated. This is his weregild; a fitting price to pay his life-debt to a sastana of your status. It’s a princely gift (obviously), and it has the clearly intentional side-effect from releasing him of any obligation he might still have to you as your sa’asthrana. Could well be Serat suspects you pulled something on him; could be that this sort of thing is just standard practice any time an elf comes into their waters. If the long-established habit among the tritons is to treat elves like royalty no matter who they actually are, the Dominions are probably likely to be well-disposed towards their kind. Then again, he might be right. Maybe you’d better sit down for a talk-talk with Madi while you still have the chance. They did say something about a case of destino naturale or something, after all… Remove the antitoxin from your inventory if you still have it in there. MADI Serenity hands over the antitoxin without fuss. You supervise its dilution and watch from a safe distance as the Ikarian nurses administer it to the ailing family. Their symptoms show measurable signs of improvement within minutes. You’d be breathing a sigh of relief (if you had lungs) and wiping your brow in relief (if you actually sweat) - thank all the gods great and small, the spores appear to have been eradicated. Caution these new Ikarians, naturally, of the danger inherent in giving that mad alchemist’s handiwork another chance to breed. The immunization this family’s been given was five-times dilute, and the mycelia of Akkermans had already begun to take root and grow within them - they’ll bear the scars of its stunted growth forever. If by chance some spore of it should remain untouched by your cleansing injection, tell them to beware those things that might stimulate its resurgence. Ill health, pollution, the stigma of a decaying environment - and especially areas of elevated thaumic flux. Well, hell; if it comes to that down in Ikaria the tritons will probably glass the place anyway. (Somehow.) You’re still not 100% sure how the hell they mean to actually follow up on all their ominous threats, but you’re sure to have a front-row seat for it. Ikaria looks like it might just be okay without you for a while. The IFF beacon Serat implanted into your aura should grant you safe passage when you run the blockade back up to the Raft - the vital business of medicine transcends their petty wars. The good men and women of the AGIRS Expectant are even now preparing your very own rapid-response squadron of Registered Chimerae - with a few dozen heavy-labor and disaster-relief strains at your back, getting to the (literal) bottom of Isha’s work should be a breeze... RAMONA Well, that all went better than expected, didn’t it? Nobody (else that you care about) had to die, you’ve got a tank full of pureed ghosts to shoot with, Serenity’s weird new ‘outfit’ seems like it’s doing her more good than harm for once, and it’s starting to feel like Madi’s loving thaum binders are finally getting through your kidneys and ready to go. You may not have been taking any bets, but that sure as hell didn’t stop the Dolphins - out of politeness they cut you in on some of the take. Looks like the betting wasn’t just all against Nori - some of it was on whether or not they’d get to see you use that suit to kill every single triton opposing them. Rumors of that time you geeked an entire bar at the drop of a hat, it seems, have spread. You can remove your debility now. Your purse only swells further upon your return to Ikaria. After the cattle-car is empty and the colonists have begun to disperse into their new home, some of the more…enterprising...among the ESCO defectors have a take for you too. Most didn’t expect any of you to come back alive. Joke’s on them. Assholes. Well well well, this is quite a take. A heavy purse full of lucre from all across the Sea of Crescents, a thick string of the donut-shaped amber coins the triton clans favor...and whoa, that’s definitely a fingernail-sized sliver of thaum-crystal. Doesn’t look like one from the mana vent - the colors are off. Did the tritons bring their own? You receive 1019 coin in way-too-overdue loot. Split it among the party as you all see fit.  Purse’s full, kidneys are drained, ghosts are as quiet as you’ve seen them in a good long while, and (oh, look who it is) Savior’s found his way into your pockets again. Good. Things are as ready as they’ll ever be. Time to go kill Murgo already. Sheesh. NORI Well, that’s that. The Hvalreki docks at Ikaria without further incident and the many jam-packed mutie colonists spill from its hold like gas from a shaken soda bottle. The Dolphins will remain outside, of course, patrolling the barren rocky sea-bottom - the duel you just won is probably the most excitement they’ll see for a while. The Ikarians have their work cut out for them: build, grow, harvest, and live. Survive until this war is at its end, keep their isolated little bubble of life healthy, or die trying. The translocator will be assembled and ready to go, they tell you, in just a few hours. Now there’s nothing left but to save your city from misrule and neglect - to wrest its governance from that tyrant Karthas Murgo and all those who abet him… ...or die trying.  * * * END OF SESSION * * * Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 06:44 on Aug 9, 2017 |
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Aug 9, 2017 06:27
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Serenity HP 20/20 | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 9/13 End of Session We learned a great deal about Tritons and their clans We defeated their vanguard and prevented a full on war (for now) We got our hands on a magical triton conch Serenity is having some doubts about this soul bond. The bond "My soul is promised to Ramona. She must live to see that day." is undergoing a shift into "Ramona needs to prove herself worthy of everything I have given up." For a total of 4 xp, putting Serenity at 9/13 --- Lastly, you’d need to take all that information, all your explosive dossiers and king-toppling secrets - take it all to the littoral metropolis of Rasi’im, to present it to the vast blind Leviathan at their kingdom’s heart. He’s not head of state, exactly; not pope or generalissimo or president - but a case as sensitive as yours would need his royal assent, and approval, before your asylum could be granted. The Leviathan never leaves his great palace of gem-studded sea-stone...but then, he was far younger than he is today when those walls were first raised up around him. In what tale, song, or legend did you first hear of this last requirement? In this instance, no actual songs or tales. Politics, treaties, ambassadorial duties, deal-making...it's all part of bardic schooling. Even the most obscure aspect or unlikely edge case is reviewed and drilled into the minds of anyone who might act as a Voice of the Choir. And though in these days the elven people have little involvement with the tritons, it was not always so. And as is typical for elven diplomacy, many methods were put into place for those in the know to avail themselves of hospitality and protection if absolutely necessary. And someone who causes as much trouble as Serenity? You had better believe she's reviewed the many and varied escape clauses she can exploit. --- As things began to settle down and the ship docked at Ikaria, Serenity made a point to catch Nori and Ramona and explain the situation she had encountered just after Ramona escorted the triton ambassador back to the sea. A man, potentially a saboteur or agent of Murgo, now held in the brig. "I washed my hands of the matter. He steadfastly refused to admit to anything, despite that his lies were flimsier than a house of cards. He seemed to have it in his mind that I was obliged to throw myself to the wolves in his place. I'll admit I'm a soft touch, but my head is not equally soft." After this, Serenity is going to check on 01's remains.
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Aug 10, 2017 01:08
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SERENITY What remains of Zero-One is scarcely visible underneath the rat’s nest of cables, wires, laser apertures, and incomprehensible magitech whachahoozits the Ikarians have accreted around his fractured thoughtshard. The mess has sprouted a couple keyboards and screens while you were away - not to mention an enthusiastic coven of eager researchers clatter-clacking away at the keys, talking amongst each other in hushed, excited voices and occasionally breaking away to point at stuff on whiteboards and argue.  What a sorry way for him to go. Reduced to a magic eight-ball for a bunch of hopeful water rats. At least they seem to be getting something out of all this. Quite a lot of it, from the looks of it. Blueprints, diagrams, graphs and close-printed text everywhere you look. Even as you watch, a fresh sheaf of fearsomely technical archaea whirrs out of a nearby printer and is snatched away by an eager young web-fingered lass. “It’s incredible how much there is locked up in there,” one of the researchers comments to another. “Light-years beyond anything I’ve ever seen,” the reply comes. “Will’s orbots are nothing next to this. Hell, Warwick couldn’t build something like this. Where on earth did that eeeoohhhhi there!” the speaker sputters as he notices you standing right behind him. “Look who it is! The woman of the hour!” “Serenity, I can’t thank you enough,” the enthusiastic young nerd gushes, pumping your hand vigorously up and down in a clumsy handshake. “There’s so much in here to learn from...magic, machinery, history, everything! With this at our fingertips and Warwick’s industry to back us, we’ll be self-sufficient in months, if not weeks! Here, come play while you can--” he escorts you to a rickety lab stool and plunks you down in front of a keyboard a-crusted with anonymous food stains“--have to finish up in here and put him to bed before Moreno’s lads kick off that test-fire they’re going on about.” What do you do? Ø_▌«●●○○○»  d̾e҈f̧iͬn̡ ȇ͕iͮn̺tͤẻr̬n̋a͜l̸̩f́a͎sͅ t̓c̵c̵ͪv͎öiͯd͕̲@̛_ͨZͣS̗𝀻̨t̨4͌s̼𝀣̇w͋a͠p̓ȊZ̲4̍m͡a̤i̭n͕Ẽ1̵s̨E̎v̧𝁂̲R̉T̮_͚S̢2̛_ͦ(̩%́s͂tͭr̹uͭ𝀺͖c̜t͇.̑sͥ*ͯ̚d҈e̚rͥéf͒e͢r̕e̋nͧc̽e̯àb̌l͊eͧ(͘ 4̝0͠)͖̕%͋𝀻̨_̋𝀵ͥ_̠a̫,̜ͩ%̤s̩𝀴̄t͐r̆u̫cͤ𝀧͉t̿.̉s͚*̠ͅ𝀩̛d҉ĕr̡ẽfͬe̞r͡ēnͮc̙ë́áb̠𝀳̄l̚e̫(͙4̋0̮)ͨ͒%ͨ_̹_́b̙)҈̺u̾ǹn͟âm͆e͛d͇_̎𝀮̵a̍ḑd̶𝀴͟r̼ͅ#̞0̛͆{̨̥̮ͭ%ͬ_͔𝀮͞_̾t̽m͎p̩̱=̫͟a̝l͗l̎o̗c̖a͕ͅ%ͬs̭𝀽̻t̽r̷u͂c̆t͒.̊𝀻̩s͙𝀧̍,҉́a͢l̒iͪg̓ṅ̆1̠̙̀̀%͡1̶ͬ=̰𝀫ͩ̓g͔eͣ𝀷̓t̹ė𝀭̓l̨e̍mͯên̗tͯp͓t̄ȓ͓iͨn̓b͔o̙ 𝀨̥u҈nͅ𝀸͓ḋs̉̚%̈s̋t̀rͣu͏c̽t̶.̘s͐,̑̊𝀥ͮ%̂sͩt̀r͝ṳc҉t͢.̐𝀦̻s̈*̅͛%̡𝀣̂_҉𝀨̽_͢t̤m͆p͌,̱̬i̼6̠𝀮͈4̦̓0̋,̀̇i̙3̟2̼̭0͊,̓𝀪ͤ͠i͏6̻4̷́0̛͚̑̅c̪a͔lͥl̷̝vͮọi̢d͉͝@̘l̠l͓v̕m̪.̌l̶i̊f̭e͕t̔i̠𝁀͚m͌e͇.̍s̑t̤aͮr̈t̝(̊iͬ6͎4ͩ̿4̐0̊,̡ͣỉ8̓*̋͠%͠1̏)҈̳#́3̔͏̵̻%̞2͆͘=̐͠t̐à𝀭ͮi̋l͑ͣc̭𝀩̴ál̒lͬ𝀹̔̌f҈a̶s̳t̑c͏c̯̎d̖ẻr̓èf̐e͘r̷e̷ñc̚e͠𝀨̣ä́b̽l̜e̢(̝4͑0̾)̣̅%̳s̩𝀤̰t̶r̎u͐ċt̑.̪ṡ*̓ͫ@̻_̟Z̆S͚t̛4̱mͯoͨv̱e̝ỊR͈Z͚4͌𝀸̣m͉aͮ𝁀̿i҉n̚𝀱̸E͎1͉s̨E͌O͏ŇS̞t́1͒6̄rͯe̫m̴oͥ𝀥̸v͂𝀳͏e̲_͂𝀫̘r͋ẽf̴𝀺̨e͑r̟e̶n͝c̜e̥I̢T͜𝀼̂_ͅË4͍t̻ÿ́p͌e̪E͞O̢𝀴҉S͢3̽_̆(̐%͝𝀽̂sͤ𝀨҈t͘rͫuͥc͆t̵.͗s̹*̫̆n͡ơn͔n̯u͝lͅlͯ̓d̎e͜rͪęf͘ęr̳e̞n̴c̑e͊a̎b͊l͟eͪ(͔4̓0͚)̾̊%ͨ_̒_̉a̐)̲ͤ#̻3̸̤̋ͫ%ͮ3͇̏𝀼͏=̭̆g̏ēt̖e͔l̒e͞m̹e̷𝀤̥nͭt̶p̩t͈r̗̞įn̙b͋o҉u̬nͦdͧ𝀱͍ s̄𝀰̛ͭ%̐𝀽ͮs̢t͍𝀦̬r͎u̥c͒t̵.͚s̚,̻̊%̳s̯t͏𝀳͓ŕu͝𝀰̙c͊t̹.͑𝀯͈s̘*̻͐%͘2̴,͂͢ỉ6́4͓͍0̂,͍̿í3ͬ2ͬ̓0̓,̜ͧi͡𝀱͙6ͧ4̸̙0̈́͋𝀬̷ͩͨc̷ál̝l̆̿v͏o͡i̟ḏ͗@̖l̲ḷv͌m͓.͘m̉e̝m͢c͒p̓y͂.̶p͜0̻iͯ𝁀ͬ8̌𝁅͚.̋p̲0҈i̇8̓.͗i̦6̍4̀(͋i̙𝀼ͧ8҉*͕̩%͛1͑,͖̎ȉ8̯*̞̌%̧3̨𝀧͂,̥͢i̤6̂4͙̻4̖0ͭ,̀̏i͡3͗2̺͖1̞,͕̳iͅ1̬̔f͚ȧlͧs̈e̜)ͪ,͗҈!̟tͪbͫa̍a̟.ͦ𝁃͝sͪṭr̟u͞c̜t͕ͤ𝀱͚!ͦ1̞̜̅𝀰̄ͫ%͋4̭̔=́̅t̷a̙i̞l̹̬𝀶̥c͕𝀲͟ȁl̲lͬ҉f̋𝁅̎a͛s̥t҈c͡cͫ̂d͠e̯r̗ĕ𝁁͓f͉e͢r̓e͡n̤c̍e̹aͤb̗lͯe͈(̨4̶0̯)͍ͤ%̌s͜𝀣͇t̑r͠𝀸͏uͭcͬt̡.͔s̋*̵𝀺̼̒@̢_͆Z̓S̸t̲4̟m̴o͝v̯e͕𝁄̵I̙RͫZ̜𝁀͖4͙m̷a̼i̐n̈E̞1̄s͘𝀷̀E̷O̜N͍S͎t̄1͕𝀵̌6̟r̳𝁄̶e̜𝀱̈m͗o̩v̇e̮𝁅͛_͑r͂e͆f͓eͬr̶e͙ñ𝀳͘c͛êI̗T̲_̲E͢4̄t̔𝀨͒y͒pͥe̬E̍OͣS̈́3̟𝁄̟_ͮ(̊𝀧̫%̾s̐t̟r̤u͔ćt͒.̡s̩*̥̎ńo̵n̴n̜𝁃̽uͪlͥl̠͔d̡e̽r̛e̼f̱ȩr̈́e̓ñ𝀧̖c͑𝀮ͣe͏à𝀬̒b̹ļe̍(̊4̅0̹𝀯͟)ͤ̚%̱_̣_̕b̸)̓̏#̗3̱͕̄̊%͛𝁄ͤ5̖̽=̱ͮ𝀦̍g̵e̲t̬e̎l̦𝀻ͅe̊m̴ẻn҉t̜p̮t̼𝀶̝r͟𝁁̜ͮi̝n̷b͏o̔u͞n͇d͔s͈̉%̶𝀵ͣs̷t̆r̲u͐c̊t̏.ͥs̑,͚̒%͠s̭t͟r̄u͋c̀t̥.̽s̹𝁅ͫ*̊𝀰̷̈́%͊_̓_҉a͛,̢̢iͥ6҉4̯ͪ0̩𝀰ͩ,̭̫i̩3͌2̩͑0̉,̺̣i̠6͑4͕̏0̷̅ͧ𝀾̙̚%̷6͖ͧ𝀽͜=̐̎g̬e̠tͫe͂l͛ém͔eͨn҈t͉p̳t̀r̡͋i̓n̊b̭o̭uͫn̗d̰s̤̒%͂s̈́t̓r̲𝀩͒ūc͖ t͏.ͩs̐,̙̚%͈s͞t̴r̸u̾c͢t̀.̿s̒*̒ͬ%̟4̮,͚ͩ𝁀̓iͦ6̍4̝̈0̟,̨͘i̟3͋2̺ͨ0̲,̌́i̻6̴4̔𝀹̮͢0̓͌̄̔𝀥́ṭaͦi̔l͑𝁅͎͗c̟ḁl͋l̘͢v̘oͥ𝀺̻i͟d҉͠@̜l͉ĺvͩ𝀺̖m̨.̝m̳ȇm͇c͑p͠y͞.͝p͎0ͮi͢8̓.͡p͢0̯i̤𝁅́8̼.̧i̚6̣4̳(҈i̔8̢*͙̩%̫5͡,͐𝀥͇̂i͟8̢*̦̽%͆6ͣ,́̍į6̓4̴ͯ4ͩ0ͯ,̔̕iͅ𝀹͖3̯2̺̠1̎,̸ͮiͧ1͟͝f͂aͤlͬṣe͟)ͯ,̤̿!ͤt͇b̯a̍ả.̖s̞t͓r̳u̴c̎t͕ͦ!͇1̴̘͐𝁃̹͇%ͥ7̣̪=̒̂c͠a͈l̄l̤̻𝀲̍f̛a̵s̵t͇c͍c͆̌d̹𝀺̒ėŕeͨf̉e̶rͧeͯn̼𝀺̒c͕e͔𝀧ͫa̸𝀯̧b̏l͟𝀼̎e̳(͆4͙0̚)̴̱%̂sͩt͊r͈uͤc̗t҈.ͣs̮*̌ͣ@̢_͇𝁃̴Z͕S͘t́4͂m̃o̲v̲e̊ÍR҉Zͯ4̠m̌a̡i̷n̙E͝𝀭̈́1̴s͋E̝OͧŃS̭t̝1ͮ6̥rͯ𝀺̊eͥm̄o̐v̰e͡_͞r̆e͚fͅe҉r͐e̲ṇcͣȇIͤT͈_̭Eͩ4̀t͏y̗𝁅̸p̟eͅEͭO͠S̏3̋_͐(ͧ%̟𝀣̫s̈t̜r͏ùcͮṫ.̞s͍*̗̀n̝o͙n̚nͩu̗𝀽ͭl̨l҈̉dͅe͗𝀵̜r͙e̻f͗e̍r͝𝀭͛éñc͕ȩa̧b͢l͗𝀬̩e͟(ͩ4̒0ͨ)͙́%͒_̣_̑𝀧͈tͦm̹p͡)̠̀#̌𝀦̝3̞̰ͯ͋%̒8͑͠=̲𝀯̐͘𝀧͍g̈́e̯ẗe̛l̢ẽ𝀣͋m̼e̢n͔t̚p̻t̴r̝͍𝁅҈i̝n͌bͨo̽uͦn̴𝀥̜dͮs̨̧%̽𝀺̫s̎t̽r͜u̧c͇t̛.̐s̮,̱̮𝀳̋%̆s̆t̑r̞uͣc͟t̻.ͪs̀*͍̌%ͬ𝀮̓_̢_ͥ𝀨͆b̨,ͬͯi̧6͉4̘̘0̖,ͮ̊𝀪̬i̪3͛2̸̐0̯,̬̾iͯ6͚4͖̾0̵̙̣̫%͞9̛̺=́̈g̋e̬t͂e͠l̞e̘m̤e͐n̫t̺p͘t̬r̈́̏i͚n͞b͕o̷u͠n҈d̻s̎͒%ͯs͕t͗r̙uͣc̙t̃.̰𝁂̬š𝀼͉,̪̋%͂s̔t͋rͪu̔c̨t͝.̚𝀳ͪs͚*ͯ͢%͑𝀫҉7̣,͔̆i̦6͢4̋͒0̴,̜̞i͎3̝2̰̚0͞,̹͛i̋𝀷͉6͊𝀬̄4̗̫0̦ͅ𝀭̟͚̄c͆a͆𝁅͋l̘l͋͢𝀰ͤv̐o҈i͎d̡͂@͜lͭl̤v̗𝀧ͯm̬.̀m͕ěm̡c̤p̠y̳.̳p̡0ͬi͇8̉.͒p̙0̅i̞8͞.̤i̓6͢4̐(͍iͯ8͍*̧𝀯̔̕%ͨ8́,̪͒i͡8̰*̲̉%̱9̓,ͫ̓i̯𝀥͞6̶4̖̾4͆0̃,͈̅i͉3̹2͙͊𝀹̀1̥,̡͗i͟1̡͞f͚a͓l̖s̠e̲)͏𝀻͂,̩̇!̻t͞b̘a̍ä́.̆s̍t͂𝁃ͣrͣűc͇𝁂̙t͑ͮ!͏1̐͏𝀼̡̀́c͗âl͍ḷ͞v̔óȉd̟̪@̀lͧl̊v̧m̳.̿l̈́i̾f̋ḙt̮ị𝀯̩m̀e҉.̞eͧn̺d̄(̭i̠6̔4̨ͮ4̾0̷,̢̐i̜8̙*̙̜%̏1͚)̥ͨ#̵3̔̋𝀥̢̋͋r͘e͎t̲͆v̀o̕i̐d̃͊𝀹͞}̿" ------>>>>>() { it’s like you were never gone. Sightless, soundlNULL, motionless. Sleeting static all through the fractured architecture of your ancient mind. Somewhere far away, NULL slow horror of looming deadlock gathers strength like a tsunami rising on the far horizon. Dozens of queries hammer your interfaces with each passing second, raw and bleeding history probed for and mercilessly extracted, squeezed out of you like water from a NULL. Not dead yet, robo-dad. You’re hooked up to the Ikarians’ computer networks and being treated like the world’s biggest Compendium Of Useful Knowledge. What do you do?  quote:Query the Cosmos Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 04:16 on Aug 11, 2017 |
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Aug 11, 2017 04:10
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Serenity HP 20/20 | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 9/13 Serenity resisted to urge to grab the young man and smash his face into something pointy. There certainly was no lack of such surfaces around here now. Ugh, humans. You give them every chance and they never fail to find new ways to disappoint you. Hesitantly, she began tapping out some vaguely remembered command lines. She'd done some maintenance on 01 in the past. He hadn't taught her enough to actually do anything dangerous, but she knew how do call-responses from what acted as his mind when his communication systems were offline. She input several queries, rapid fire, things the people running the show here would certainly not approve of. She was not attempting to simply call up data. She was trying to call up any remaining remnant of the entity known as 01. He deserved to have the final say in what was done with himself. Spout Lore: 2d6+3 5 As discussed, Serenity is trying to find out how to communicate with 01, the individual she knows, not his copy of wikipedia.
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Aug 11, 2017 04:34
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A ripple crosses the surface of a bottomless abyss... posted:01 Nori 23/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 6/11 | load 8/14 My win bought us some breathing space, but this is still just the start. I wander aimlessly through the halls of Ikaria, lost in thought. Making plans. quote:EOS
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Aug 13, 2017 06:20
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Ramona 21/25 HP; 5/13 XP; 4 Armor; 11/11 Load quote:EOS: Agree that Triton lore, Triton duelist and Conch count. Alignment: I freed Savior from a literal or figurative bond according to his own twisted bullshit logic, so I'm taking that XP. Bond: Madi knows how to deal with idiots, so I'll give her some autonomy. That means if she says she's going a separate way I'm not going to try to talk her out of it. the back of an invoice posted:Serenity Greymist, quote:Serenity helped Ramona discover unexpectedly that she wants to love again, even though it's been suppressed by the powers that be and caused nothing but heartbreak betrayal and knife wounds so far. gently caress it. I'll call her over, smash Savior and read it to her.
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Aug 13, 2017 20:56
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SERENITY “Hey, hold on wait a second here - wait, how’d you do that, hold on - ” but you pay no attention to the curious little magpie screen surfing behind you, and do your best to remember the rapid-fire sequence of commands required to open up 01’s limited-access administrative shell. Tunnel in there, change a couple settings here and here, make sure you do the next three commands within five seconds or else you’ll get locked out, and there, you’re in... 01 SsSsSssssomething’s happening to yyou. Something beyond the torrent of probing questions that all-but-fill your cognitive capacity. Someone is querying you - YOU, yourself - for all the aliases your thoughtshard contains, and asking to connect to their designated store of memories. Serenity... ”$ sarah@noetic:/bin/lash” posted:> which -a ntcsh | xargs $1 eval \ ”whoami” posted:__admin__ no no no nO NO NO NO NO  ------Discontinuity------ SERENITY The screen fills with garbage text, then meaningless static, then - just for a split-second - a blazing fractal knotwork revolves before your horrified eyes, swirling and churning like a six-dimensional blender. The monitor blacks out with a cough of dark smoke and a spatter of sparks, and you hear a dreadful crack from within the nest of cabling that envelops your one-time bodyguard. "'Shira, what did you DO?!" the screensurfer behind you shouts. Then every light and monitor in the room goes dark and the room is plunged into instant chaos. What do you do? NORI You're wandering down one of the residental corridors when all the lights in Ikaria go out at once. You're immediately surrounded by concerned, distressed voices crying out for someone. Anyone. A few scattered penlights flicker to life. Somebody walks into a chair or something by mistake and falls to the deck in a heap. What do you do? RAMONA (DD+CHA = 3) The lights go out on you while you're on your way to go see Serenity. Every single one of them. Savior throbs against your thigh like a hot coal, hungry and eager. He knows what you want. He knows you think you found a way to escape him. And he is not happy about it. What do you do? Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 12:07 on Aug 14, 2017 |
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Aug 14, 2017 03:52
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Nori 23/23 HP | 1/1 Armor | XP 6/11 | load 8/14 I tense for a second, expecting something awful. After a second, people click on small flashlights and the air is more one of confusion and annoyance rather than danger. I cautiously make my way to whoever tripped and help them sit up. "Hey there, so uh...that was probably a breaker." I call out a little louder, "Anybody wanna let me borrow a light? I think I should probably go check on that." Just what I need, a problem to solve that doesn't involve violence. Feels like forever since I've had something to dig into like that.
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Aug 14, 2017 06:51
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Ramona 21/25 HP; 5/13 XP; 4 Armor; 11/11 Load "This is your doing. What are you so afraid of?" I mutter to the rock, continuing on my way with my visor light on. I scan for gremlins. There probably aren't any ghosts left here for Savior to gently caress with and those are the last things I remember chewing on the wires. Could just be a normal failure, too. Nori'd be on it. We should group up in the meantime, so I look for the rest of the people I marked. Honestly, I don't feel like this is a grand act of defiance against the curse. This was going to happen anyway eventually. I wasn't going to hide forever, I was always going to pick my moment. I just chose this one. Maybe I should get my hopes up if this is hurts Savior so much?
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Aug 14, 2017 23:12
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Serenity HP 20/20 | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 9/13 ...That probably wasn't supposed to happen. Had she somehow done that? And if so, were these people really stupid enough to have linked the computers they were using to pry open 01's mind to the rest of the station? These thoughts immediately cut off as another thought seized her mind in a death-grip. Now was the perfect opportunity to put an end to this exploitation. It didn't matter what they could learn. It didn't matter if even a fraction of the knowledge they could glean would have unfathomable benefit for mankind. Serenity was not going to permit anyone to torture 01 any further. Standing up she quickly stepped around the desk she had been seated at and dove headlong into the mass of cables. She had no real idea what she was doing but gently caress it, emotions always worked out better for her anyway. Rolling +dex to find and retrieve 01's Thoughtshard as delicately as possible. @Shardix: 2d6+1 = (3+4)+1 = 8
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Aug 14, 2017 23:34
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SERENITY You plunge elbow-deep into the mass of cabling and close your hands on something hot and glassy. Grip, brace, and yank - bright lancing pain stabs at you, but out he comes -- and not two seconds later the lights come back on. Broken thoughtshard is sharp as hell, by the way. You just cut the poo poo out of both your palms. Take d4 messy damage, and add 01’s thoughtshard (1 weight, magical) to your inventory. Everybody’s too shocked to move. You look down at the gory fruits of your act -- `Shira, he looks terrible. Blank white cleavage planes mar his interior like the surface of a cataract. He’s painfully hot in your gory hands. Your fresh blood soaks slowly into the socket the Ikarians drilled in him, and into the blank glossy place where a splinter broke off his side. Blank Os in pale faces look back at you. Your missing finger throbs like a broken tooth; there’s a fresh and free-flowing slash across the stump. One among the researchers - the guy who was screen surfing you - his face is flushed with anger, and as you watch he starts to draw breath for what’s bound to be an epic nerd-rant... 01 will retain consciousness and vitality for as long as fresh blood flows over him. Jaira is watching you. What do you do? 01 «●●●●○» You took 2-fracture. Serenity's life-force is powering your processing. You can see (blurrily) and hear (tinnily), but you can neither move nor speak. You can emit patterned light from your thoughtshard and make it display (glitchy) images and video. You are on the verge of death. What do you do? Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 02:52 on Aug 18, 2017 |
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Aug 18, 2017 02:49
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Madi Keller HP 22/22 | Armor 2 | XP 13/11 | Load 5/8 En route to medbay As Madi walks through the halls a courier comes running up, Madi's bag in hand. "Here you are, uh... Siiir?" "Doctor's fine kiddo. And quick get on that, nice work." Madi nods and continues, the courier moving to follow them. "Uh... Do you uh, tip down here?" "No, doctor. Well, we didn't before the sink, I'm..." "Alright alright no need to overthink it, but you really knocked it outta the park." Madi goes to take their bag, but as they come around a corner they collide with someone similarly not paying attention, sending the bag clattering to the ground, its contents spilling out. "Oh! I'm so sorry, let me-" They start, but Madi's eyes are locked on a brown package, with the seal of the Alchemist's Guild stamped on the paper. Picking it up and tearing a corner open they see three vials, all exactly the same as the one they just bummed from Serenity. "Gods above I'm an idiot! How did I forget three entire doses in my bag?" "Uh... Stressful day? Worrying about getting stabbed by Tritons?" "That was mostly rhetorical but, no time!" Madi then starts to take off down the halls. Whoops turns out Madi had antitox on their sheet the entire time whoops. Anyway Madi gains 4 XP, 3 from EoS and 1 from erasing their bond with Serenity! That's remaining unfilled because Madi's walking out soon
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Aug 18, 2017 09:44
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Serenity HP 20/20 | Armor 2 | Load 4/9 | XP 9/13 Serenity glared at the man as his mouth began to gape open. She held 01's shard gently in her right hand, mindful of it even as her fury began to swirl up and consume her. Her left clenched into a fist and she hurled a vicious hook right at the smug little prick's face. She'd bled and nearly died for these people and they still refused to fathom the singular request she had made. A request so simple, all they needed to do to respect it was nothing at all. It was a childish thing to do, attacking this guy, but she had no patience remaining any longer. Hack & Slash: @Shardix: 2d6-1 = (2+2)-1 = 3
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Aug 19, 2017 13:54
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Ramona 25/25 HP; 6/13 XP; 4 Armor; 9/11 Load Savior's annoying one side of me and then Serenity's heart monitor starts alarming on my left. I get moving faster to her location. What'll it be this time, more ghosts? Gremlins? Traitors. Maybe she's just having a bad dream, hah. slydingdoor fucked around with this message at 17:10 on Aug 19, 2017 |
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Aug 19, 2017 15:33
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| # ? Apr 19, 2024 13:21 |
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quote:Treason doth never prosper: what's the reason? quote:You speak of death as a personified being. CHAPTER VI: “WE JUSTLY TAKE BY FORCE” SERENITY You completely whiff. You miss his face by two full inches at least. Pudge McWiki here is so unused to violence that he reacts no different than if you actually did hit him. He reels away, stumbles backwards, and trips over a fat rope of cabling on the deck. Arms windmilling wildly, he twists and slams facefirst right into a lab rack full of heavy steel instruments before falling into the arms of two of his comrades - totally off balance, they stagger right into each other and all three of them fall in a heap. Wow. What do you do?  RAMONA No ghosts (yet). No gremlins (probably), exactly one traitor (heading for a court-martial in forty minutes, Cell Block A), and what honestly does kind of look like a bad dream. For you. Looks like Serenity holed up in one of the station’s laboratories while you were away. She’s standing in the middle of a clot of shellshocked nerds and holding a bloodstained crystal about the size of both your clenched fists put together. That’s...01? It’s got to be from the way she’s holding the thing so protectively. What happened to him after you parted ways? Her hands are badly cut; blood from the slashes on her palms and fingers runs freely down to the deck. Three of the researchers are out cold and all the others are too petrified to do anything. What do you do? NORI The lights go back on literally two seconds after you help this guy up -- and oh no, he’s hot. “Hey,” he says. No problem at all, I guess….? until Dr. del Moreno’s voice comes crackling over the short-range radio she handed out to you. “Nori!” she barks. “You read me? You there? Sound off! Whatever the hell that power surge just was, it slagged our telemetry - sensor records up here are gone - they’re just gone!” ”I can’t raise anyone in archival and half my techies are locked up with the elven t-crys they pulled out of your friend’s bodyguard. What the hell's going on?” What do you do? ***   (bgm) BRANWEN The airlock door seals shut behind you with a clang and creak. Emergency lights flicker on, firefly sparks in the stygian black. So this is the infamous Aqualantis: swallower of expeditions, breaker of vessels. The rumors are as dark as any you’ve heard before: new horrors slithering out from the red and rotten Wormwood, the bloody massacre in Sullivar - now this, the great metropolis of the Crescent Sea broken and lamed, resting askew on a wide flat plain of abyssal mud. Nothing’s been heard from the city’s ostensible governance, the Emergency Strategic Coordination forces, since the tritons’ declaration of war came down. You can only assume they mean to fight it out to the bitter end. The dull thud of a Bombardan depth-charge reaches you through the thick steel bulkheads, and the long-suffering groan of wet steel painfully adapting to new and unexpected pressures. What’s now at seafloor-depth was once one of Aqualantis’ many permanent subsurface locks, to provide easy entrance and egress to maintenance team and pleasure diver alike. Now, of course, it’s two thousand feet beneath the briny deep, and slowly sinking underneath the whole vast weight of the city above. Welcome to Aqualantis, traveler. You prayed to Bombarda before your descent, and She has graced you with her glory: name the spells you have memorized, and keep track of them in your character blurb.  The emergency lighting casts dim red gloom over a wide expanse of catwalks, pits, piping, and valves. This could almost be an open-plan ship deck on any human vessel that ever sailed the seas, if it weren’t for the struts holding apart this deck and the deck above being thicker around than your arms can reach...and no ship you’ve ever sailed on carried its own sewage treatment works in its briny underbelly like this. The air should be full of clangor and din - aerators, pumps and fans, all the noise of heavy industry - but instead there’s only a dreadful quiet, the slow drip of water somewhere off in the dark - --and a dusty, rattling groan from somewhere close by. Danger close. What do you do? Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 00:10 on Aug 23, 2017 |
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Aug 22, 2017 03:32
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