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So this is it, my plucky little urchins. The start of the game. Are you excited? Me, I am delirious, incontinent with glee. Let's do this. ------------------------------------------------- The past few... days? weeks? it's been hard to tell - have been rough. The whatever happened to you back there deep in the bowels of the Night - this divine empowerment - was the only thing that has kept you alive all that time, but even that reservoir of luck was about to run out by the time you finally made it to the exit - a flickering ribbon of light, melting before your eyes, fresh air streaming through it. You jumped through. ------------------------------------------------ The sky is the beautiful, warm, golden orange of the early evening, the sun that you thought you'd never see again finishing its leisurely crawl to the horizon. The air is crisp and cold, every gasp of it delicious after days of choking on the stiff tomb air of the Night Road. And the view of the lands before you that you get from up here is magnificent. Unfortunately, 'up here' is mid-air, about six miles above the ground, with you doing your best Wile E. Coyote impressions. And now, as always, gravity wins. Down you go. Meep meep. GM protip: hitting the ground after a six mile drop is likely prove detrimental to your physical health. If you can, try to avoid it! You can see for miles and miles and miles in each direction from up here - if you manage to stop spinning and flailing and screaming, that is - and it's all land no matter where you look, so you probably did not exit above the Republic. Personally, I think that's a little unfortunate, because if I had to be scraped together with a pooper scooper and buried in a crater, I'd prefer it be on my native soil, but hey, at least you got to go sightseeing abroad before you died. I hope this is a relief for you. Now, if you wanted to figure out whereabouts in the world they would eventually, definitely build a memorial for you (nothing too fancy, of course, SRD is never not in a budget crunch) now would be a great opportunity to do so, given that you're six miles high and never getting a more geographical perspective on the world. Just close an eye, measure some distances out with your thumbs and try to remember what the world map looked like in Geography 101. Wait, I'm sorry. Did I say six miles? Five miles now. Sorry, my bad. Oh, how the time flies when one is having fun. Unlike you - you're not flying, you're plummetting to your deaths. Um. Hey, did I mention you've hit terminal velocity by now? Cool fact, 'terminal' in 'terminal velocity' refers to the highest speed you'd be able to attain, not that it's going to result in death. Well, okay, if you think about it, it's kinda both. Ha ha. Ha. Ha. You know what? Let's just talk about something else. Like, for example, if you ever wanted to join the Mile High Club, now would be your best opportunity. You'd probably be the first ones to do it in, shucks, a thousand years. Quite an achievement, if you ask me! Just make it quick. Because, y'know. Maybe scribble a note about it afterwards, so they know to put it on your memorial. A sidebar! Feel free to drop in OOC remarks in the middle of your IC posts, just as I have done right now. Comment on your decisions and actions, make whatever funny remarks you would have made if we were sitting at the table, having good fun among friends. Also, I also encourage you to comment on the bits of other players' posts that you thought were good or funny. It's good for morale. Gosh darn, what am I thinking? It's very selfish of me to keep blabbing and blabbing at this very special time in your lives. I'll, uh, I'll just stop talking. Just know that for the next five, sorry, four miles now, I am entirely at your disposal. What do you wish to do? Since, as Godbound players, you are still but the tiniest of babbies, adorably burbling as cruel fate - and definitely not your kind, benevolent GM - tosses you into the life's giant whirring blender, here is a small suggestion: consider the options laid out for you on page 27. Also, technically, at that altitude, the air is currently trying to tear your ears off and there's barely any oxygen to breathe, so if I dropped you, the players, out of an airplane without parachutes (might or might not be a long-time GM dream of mine) you wouldn't be able to hear each other scream. But your characters are demigods and the laws of physics are somewhat wonky in Ancem anyway and I figure you guys can shout at each other just fine.
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May 13, 2017 20:49
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Your Genetically Perfect GM EM is fully in control of his descent: perfectly vertical, back straight and as relaxed as if he were back home, standing over a project in his workshop. Johnny is prone, balancing with his arms, expending significant effort on just not starting to spin again. Thus, it's EM who helps Johnny with the parachute arm-straps, clicks the latch shut and pulls the ring for him. Johnny is immediately propelled 'upwards', leaving EM with Roth in terminal-velocity-land. It doesn't take long for Roth to get equipped with a parachute as well. That's right. Describing the way you did a thing for you because it amuses me. ~Deal with it.~  I also decided to speed things along a bit, since Roth opted for a parachute as well. Now that his death is a little less imminent, Johnny has time to catch a breath and enjoy the view. There is a broad, languid river just underneath them, glowing golden with the reflected light of the setting sun; everyone who'd bother trying to control their descent can just about make it to its northern shore and avoid taking a bath. (Although, I suspect, after the Night Roads you guys might need a few.) The landscape before him is a rather pastoral one: temperate forests, cultivated fields, small clusters of light here and there, probably corresponding to small hamlets or villages. There are some mountains in the distance, the closest one being relatively low, sloping one, forested and wreathed in mists. More importantly, there is a large walled town on the northern shore of the river a few miles upstream, to the west. It's hard to tell in this light, but to Johhny's eye the architecture looks, perhaps, Dulimbaian. I'd say Tam didn't need to expend effort to maneuver his way to the shore. Joey and Tam hit the ground with a THUMP! THUMP! raising clouds of dirt and clumps of grass. A startled flock of geese bursts from the nearby reeds, honking in terror as they fly away. There is no one else around. A dirt road is nearby, running east-west along the shore, presumably from the nearby town to some other settlement. Johnny and Roth land next to them shortly thereafter, rather gracefully, if you take into account that they, like most others in the SRD, haven't had any parachute training, or any need for it, before right now. EM floats down after them. If EM wants to stay up for a bit and do anything say so in your post. You can hear your reinforced smartphones go ding-ding for the first time in quite a while, as they begin to recharge on the ambient energy of the world after weeks of being cut off from it in the Night. It's starting to get dark.
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May 14, 2017 11:14
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Your Famously Humanitarian GM Enno studies the town from a distance. It's... a town. Surrounded by not terribly impressive walls, with a still-open gate in its east side. The south side of the town is riverside wharf, seemingly unprotected and filled with quaint fishing boats. From this distance, the town itself mostly looks like a collection of unremarkable roofs in the Dulimbaian style.
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May 14, 2017 13:25
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Le GM Soleil Unfortunately, there is no coverage. Your feeds are distressingly dated. You are entirely cut off from the usual flow of cute animals and witty political memes. You'd feel empty and dead inside, but you've already had weeks to get used to the horror of being offline. But hey, at least you now have your music collection back.
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May 14, 2017 15:24
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Your handsomely hirsute GM Enno could have created a gilded pleasure barge or a resplendent carriage pulled by clockwork horses, but he opts for a humble canoe, woven from bark and sticks. It's a little rickety, a little threadbare, but functional. Given the breadth of his powers, it's obviously an aesthetic choice, a pure expression of an artistic philosophy. And now it's your turn to suffer for his art. Enno, please expound in a following post on how your aesthetic has informed your artistic choices in this matter. It's just a wee bit crowded in a canoe with five people in it, but you manage to fit in without destroying it, somehow. One would think that paddling a few miles upriver in an overcrowded canoe would not be an optimal way to travel, and they'd be obviously, self-evidently right, but you do have The Man, The Legend, The Boulder with you, who is now literally the strongest human being alive. He scoffs at the oars offered to him, then, after Enno makes a brief visit back to the shore to craft him a pair of King Kong-sized oars, single-handedly rows you to your destination. He doesn't even breaking a sweat. --------------------------------- Your canoe gently bumps the dock and, after you climb out, decides that it's just about had enough of the indignity that was its existence and disintegrates, the wood bits creaking the last sigh of relief as they unweave; the dark water swallows all evidence of Enno's art-crimes. It's night now, and the only illumination are a few torches here and there in the wharf, and the bright moon, reflecting in the river. The air is warm, with a light refreshing breeze and the night insects now creak and chirp nearby. Overall, it's quite lovely. A scrawny young Dulimbaian man, already ravaged by male pattern baldness, is frozen still on a nearby bench, staring at you with his mouth open. You seemingly caught him in the middle of his foot hygiene routine, which, you suspect, might just involve toenail biting. He blinks at you and stutters out in Modern Ren, the language of the common Dulimbaians: <Eh? Wassut? Who are you lot?> The breeze shifts and you are hit by a powerful fishy reek that more than a match to your own; it comes from him and from the large woven basket next to him. He frowns at you. He does not strike you as a complicated man and, as a series of thoughts flashes through his mind, you can read each one clear as day on his simple, dirt-smudged face: OH DANG STRANGERS OH DANG LAOWAIS OH WAIT SOME REN AS WELL ARE THEY DANGEROUS OH NO OH NO OH N- HEY I COULD PROBABLY SELL FISH TO THEM gently caress YEAH I LOVE SELLING FISH I COULD GET MONEY FOR MY FISH FROM THEM LET'S SELL FISH TO THEM He grins at you in a manner he probably considers charming, jumps to his feet, curses in Ren as he grabs his un-sandaled foot and pulls a wood splinter out of it, shoves the foot back into a sandal, and grins at you again, now speaking in heavily-accented Trade Cant: "Hello honorable sirs! You want fish, yes? Chin has many fish! Tasty catfish, yum yum!" He doesn't wait for a reply as he pops his basket open and begins to lay out his stench-treasure in front of you. Megazver fucked around with this message at 15:18 on May 15, 2017 |
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May 15, 2017 10:49
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Your GM, who has an appropriate amount of nipples Chin gives Joey a benevolently patronizing look, the poor simple soul that she is. "Docks, of course." I mean, duh. He rummages in his basket and pulls out a particularly pungent specimen of his stock, which he then all but shoves in Joey's face. "This is good, yes! Buy this, good for brains!" Being Bright Republicans, you are, of course, extravagantly affluent by the Dulimbaian standards. Unfortunately, most of that affluence is in your bank accounts and merchants here are unlikely to take your credit cards. Still, even the spare change you can scrape up among yourselves will go a long way in these parts, taking care of any regular expenses for a few weeks. Megazver fucked around with this message at 13:37 on May 15, 2017 |
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May 15, 2017 13:01
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Your pleasantly fragrant GM Chin's opinion of Joey has not improved upon the revelation she don't know what town she's in. "This Gongfang." He decides to clarify, if she truly is as simple as he suspects she is. "Yizhao province." Any of you who have a Fact that's relevant to this automatically knows where that is. If you check the map on page 85, Yizhao is the northern-most big city and you're somewhere on the banks of the river to the west of it. Megazver fucked around with this message at 13:39 on May 15, 2017 |
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May 15, 2017 13:18
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Your GM, who is a perfect incarnation of the appearance that an immaculate GM should have Chin would normally have trouble keeping up with a speech this elaborate in the Trade Cant, but Enno's mastery of the Word Command allows him to perfectly impart every nuance of his words' meaning upon the fishmonger. He even understands Enno's attempt at Ren, even though he completely butchered the tones and actually said "fondling shrub-weasels". He goggles, jaw comically slack, at the smartphone and the pistol. The banknote he gingerly takes with two fingers; it's clear he only has a faint idea what it is and, for a brief moment, he's seemingly tempted to ask for some actual, proper money, but he ultimately bets on it being of value and pockets it with borderline supernatural speed. "Inn? Yes. Yes! Um." Cogs churn inside his head. You can almost hear them squeal in protest. "Oh yes, I know place! Follow me!" He collects his fish, closes the basket shut, hoists it over his shoulders like a backpack and hurriedly leads you into the town. ---------------------------------- The town is mostly filled with traditional courtyard houses, the buildings forming rectangular walled compounds. You pass through a residential neighbourhood and enter what looks to be a trading district, lit by paper lanterns hanging outside the shops. There are still a few people milling around, most of them being somewhat drunk Raktians in fur hats. Everyone gives your group a wide berth, Chin's fish stink being as good a deterrent to any human interaction as any. You pass a patrol of scowling, vaguely disreputable-looking constables along the way; they eye you with suspicion, but let you walk by them. Chin babbles as you walk, mostly about his favorite subject, fish, but you do manage to gather a thing or two about the town. The man in charge in the town is one Magistrate Li and you get the impression that he is not well liked in the town. There is also a powerful local by the name of Big Feet Zu and even just the name obviously makes Chin very, very nervous. You find it hard to get any more details out of him; the sheer degree of his obtuseness defeats you. --------------------------------- The Inn of Five Silver Fish is a handsome old building, carved with stylized ornaments of happy little fish frolicking in rivers and freshly painted a boisterous scarlet red. Chin knocks at the door. After a while, you hear a voice from the inside: <Chin, is that you, you insufferable dolt? I can smell your stink from the other side of the room. I swear, if I open this door and you're still there, you are getting a broom handle up your-> The door opens and you see a short, fat, middle-aged Ren lady, who startles when she sees you. Chin bows low to her and stammers out in a low voice: <Auntie Wei, I brought you some guests. They needed rooms and I immediately thought of you.> He bows again, then, head still bowed, slowly extends a cupped hand. Auntie Wei sighs, pulls a coin out of the folds of her robe, shoves it in his hand, then shoos the man away, before turning to you. She crosses her hands on her chest, bows to you and starts talking: "Honored, illustrious guests. Welcome to Gongfang, the Picturesque Jewel of Dahuang River! I am Auntie Wei and this humble hovel is the Inn of Five Silver Fish." Her face falls. "The pain of telling you this is like a dagger in my very heart, but due to an influx of no less, but also definitely not more honored Raktian guests and the recent unfortunate fires that have ravaged the part of our beloved town that held other, less fortunate establishments of this kind, there are no beds available, even for such august personages as yourselves." She squeezes her eyes shut, briefly overcome with the agony of her monumental failure. Then, she cheers up and beams at you again. "That said, I have arrangements with some upstanding, orderly townsfolk to host guests in specially outfitted rooms in just such a circumstance, with us providing for your ever need for a trifling, purely symbolic fee." She barks some orders inside the inn and a few sullen, sleepy-eyed boys stumble out. She takes your money, beams at you and tells you to follow the boys. You do so. Each of you is lead in turn to a separate house, where you're given what are shockingly poor by Republican standards, but clean, well-aired and pest-free rooms with straw mats and blankets. In the morning, you are each invited to share breakfast with the house's owner, your meal of freshly baked bread and roasted herbed mackerel having been brought from the inn. It would not be hard for you to trace your steps back to the inn to reconvene. -------------------------------- Joey: Your host is a young, beautiful woman who introduces herself as Xia Ming. Her cheeks glow with an unhealthy blush and she only takes a bit of bouillion with you, saying she doesn't really have the appetite this morning. She mostly spends the breakfast asking Joey about life in the Bright Republic, her replies having a distinctly melancholy, resigned character. If you tell her anything about the police or the SRD, she is fascinated and dreamily tells you that she, too, would like do something important like that before she dies. Then, in a shy voice, she asks whether you want to hear some of her poetry. Johnny: Blue-Button Mei is a tiny elderly lady, bent over with age and her house is filled with her merchandise: ribbons, notions and trinkets of all sorts. She dodders around you, padding your seat, tying a cloth around your neck, babying you hard, having obviously taken a liking to you. You get breakfast helpings, of course, and no is not taken for an answer. Throughout the meal she chitchats in broken Trade Cant about how nice girls are around these and how a nice boy like you could find a good wife here, but at one point her gaze grows shrewd, lucid and she hints that should you take a liking to a nice girl who might already be a wife, it is within the realm of possibility to arrange a "private meeting" in the town shrine. Then she warmly smiles at you again and offers another helping. Roth: The boy who leads you to the house tells you that the Venerable Wan is a priest at the local ancestor shrine, a kind man, greatly admired by the local populace. But when he sits opposite you in the morning, he's mostly just quiet and sad. At one point he raises a spoonful of soup to his mouth, but instead spills it on his patchy beard and doesn't even notice. Enno: You are hosted by a real-deal, bonafide Taoist priest by the name of Red Cap Hong. He's skinny, but doesn't eat like it, destroying three large bowls of gruel in the time it takes you to finish your breakfast. Afterwards he tries to sell you on some of his folk-magic cures and talismans, which you can tell have some power in them, but are useless to someone like you. He briefly mentions spending some time in a monastery, but quickly changes subject once he realizes he's done so. Tam: You are the poor bastard who gets the shittiest hotel room, or, in this case, hut. The owner's name is Xiang and he's two hundred pounds of surly, hirsute lumberjack. He doesn't strike you as someone with a secret penchant for crossdressing. He growls an obscenity when he hears you mention the Magistrate and darkly replies the bastard will get his one day. You catch him throwing longing looks at what seems to be a pile of empty wine jugs.   Megazver fucked around with this message at 00:09 on May 16, 2017 |
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May 16, 2017 00:02
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Your GM, a weapon of mass poetic destruction Joey: You and Ming click in the matter of minutes, the conversation flowing comfortably, easy; after a while you both start lightly touching each other on the hands and shoulders, as if you were friends for ages. You chat for some time about her life here. She comes from a good family and, being a third-gen émigré, you are not super-clear on what that means in the context of provincial Dulimbai, but the family is affluent enough to have separate quarters for male and female halves of the family, you, of course, now enjoying the privilege of being in the latter. Her parents, of whom speaks with both fondness and sadness, are currently away in Yizhao on some business and it's just her and the servants in the house. In fact, there is one, a severe older lady who, judging by the intense, burrowing look she gave you, is at least a senior Internal Affairs investigator working under cover, sitting right outside the room on the other side of a thin wall as you two talk. Ming is sad that she couldn't travel with them and mentions, off-hand, that she tried to convince her parents to let her volunteer to go to the monastery, but they absolutely forbid her. The very mention of this makes Colonel Auntie behind the wall splutter into a cough. After a while, Ming reads you a poem in a quiet voice, a scroll delicately unfurled by slightly trembling fingers. It's about death and dying and there are a lot of allusions to how flowers die young but it's okay because for a while they've made their family happy with how beautiful and lovely they were. The poem is horrendous on every technical level and most aesthetic ones, but the vulnerable earnesty with which she reads it makes it almost bearable. The feverish blush on her cheeks is still there, but now her tiny pink ears glow red with embarassment as well. She goes on to read another one. This one is about how the romantic heroine will die and lie in her coffin in her best white dress looking beautiful and sad and everyone will cry and will be super-sorry about how dead she is but oh well what can you do. It is not an improvement on the previous one in terms of skill, but she offers you a shy, adorable smile after this one. There is about a dozen more of these, each read with a bit more confidence. They share a common theme with the first two. Then, she sets down the last scroll and, eyes downcast, ears bright red again, barely audibly asks you what you've thought about the poems. Whatever you reply, she starts to say something, but chokes, pulls out a red linen handkerchief and bends over in a coughing fit, holding the cloth to her mouth. When it's over, she offers you a weak, apologetic smile, slumps back in her chair, out of breath and, still holding the handkerchief to her lips, wordlessly gestures you to please read her some poetry of your own.
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May 16, 2017 13:02
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Your ever-subtle GM Roth: Wan hasn't even lifted the spoon again after the last one; instead he just sits there, clutching it in his hand, knuckles white, looking through the table with unseeing eyes. He doesn't react to the napkin you've pushed next to him, but is roused from his dark reverie by your question. He looks around, startled, as if seeing you for the first time. "Gongfang? Yes, uh. Long." His eyes turn glassy again. "Too long." His face briefly screws up in an unmistakable mixture of desperation and grief. "If only we left before..." He hides his face in his hands.
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May 16, 2017 13:31
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Your GM, totally not in league with the pork bun lobby Enno, Johhny: You two reconvene near the inn, in the shade of a nearby peach tree. The others aren't there yet, but the weather is excellent, the sun being warm, but not hot, and the mild breeze keeping you nice and fresh, so the wait will be a pleasant one. There is also a pork bun vendor nearby, giving you opportunistic glances but not actively bothering you. Megazver fucked around with this message at 14:05 on May 16, 2017 |
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May 16, 2017 13:42
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Your custom-made, eight cylinder GM Joey: Ming glows with pleasure when you compliment her poetry and is enrapt, eyes wide and hands clasped at chest, when you recite yours. When you finish reading it, you hear a quiet snort from outside the room, but Ming explodes with admiration. It's so deep. So powerful. You are definitely The Best Person now. Let's hug! Wait, no, bad idea. Sorry. Sorry, sorry. She grows reticent at your casual mention of the monastery. Eyes downcast, she mumbles something about how a nearby monastery has been rebuilt a few years ago and the sage, who now resides there by mandate of the Governor himself, keeps recruiting new students and even though she's sure there is a perfectly natural explanation, none of the students have been back to town yet and the people are getting kinda antsy about it, but she's sure it'll all be fine. This is where Colonel Auntie decides it's time for Ming to rest and gently, but firmly ushers you out. Megazver fucked around with this message at 20:36 on May 20, 2017 |
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May 16, 2017 15:08
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Your GM, whose teeth are regulation-sized Tam: Little by little, you win Xiang over and his opinion of you grows. You're alright now. The Magistrate? Yeah, that beady-eyed fucker has really cranked up the taxes. Squeezes every last drop out of ya, and then some. The farmers are pissed. Some of them have even gone into the forest, you know how these things go. Xiang, being a titan of lumbering and jacking, knows the nearby forests like the back of his hand, of course, and he has an idea where they'd establish their camps, but you haven't heard this from him and you seem like a nice guy, so he's not going to get you into trouble by telling you either. He avoids them and they don't gently caress with him and that's how he likes it. They didn't just start a peasant rebellion, you see, they also went religious, worshipping a Golden Lord, whatever that is, and that's a bit too freaky for Xiang. This whole town has gone to poo poo.
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May 16, 2017 23:48
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Your Diesel GM Locomotive Roth: Word by word, you manage to extract the priest's sob story out of him. There was a daughter. She went to the monastery as a 'volunteer'. He hasn't heard of her since. He is desperate to get her back or at least to find out what happened to her. After he finishes sharing this with you, he excuses himself and locks himself in another room. Presumably you reunite with the group. Y'all: You reunite under the peach tree near the Inn and share your many findings, Enno taking the opportunity to lay out his plans to go full Colonel Kurtz to you. You all nervously giggle, exchanging awkward glances. Some of you feel extremely hampered by your inability to express your emotions on this with a witty, highly appropriate meme. Then, as you're just about done exchanging information, you notice something. The street that you are currently on proceeds a bit further and ends in, what those of you who are familiar with Ren culture, recognize as the public square in front of the town yamen, the yamen, of course, being a Ren town's combination town hall slash courthouse slash prison. And now you see people gathering on said square, which you totally decide to go and check out because this poo poo is on rails, yo. ------------------------------- The man talking is clearly the Magistrate Li himself. He looks the picture of a proper junzi, a scholar-official, stout as befits a man of his stature, dressed in a fine-embroidered silk robe and in a possession of a magnificent black beard. There is a group of bored-looking constables standing behind him. He slowly paces back and forth in front of a small group of about a half-dozen young men and women, dressed in white robes and black hats, all of them looking various degrees of miserable. Behind them, and the group which you quietly join to observe the scene, is a larger crowd of what appear to be their parents and extended family; the men stone-faced and grim, many women quietly weeping. Whatever bystanders there are on the plaza studiously avoid even looking at this gathering. The Magistrate, in a rich, eloquent baritone, commends the youngsters on their filial devotion to their parents. Indeed, Dulimbai is safe as long as there are such as they in it. Their noble choice to devote the best years of their life to study under the famed sage and scholar Real Man Xiao will doubtlessly bring them much spiritual merit, even as it liberates their parents from the regrettable burden of overdue taxes. He clucks his tongue in disappointment that it has come to this and shakes his head, then continues. Of course, he adds, any of them who think better of their choice and no longer wish to study at the Red Crow Monastery are free to do so and are welcome to say so now. No one speaks. The silence is an uneasy one.  Then the cries of terror begin. As you turn around, on the opposite side of the plaza, you see a robed woman, wreathed in billowing plumes of shimmering black mist, descending from the sky. She is screaming something in a voice that is both sound and smoke somehow, the transformation makes it impossible to discern the meaning, and waving the long sleeves of her white robe in a mixture of frustration and desperation, as she attempts to communicate. The bystanders scream and scatter all around. The Magistrate is ushered inside the yamen by his constables. What do you do?
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May 17, 2017 23:18
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Johnny, being a
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May 17, 2017 23:51
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Your fearsomely fragrant GM Enno reluctantly goes against his first instincts and actually attempts to save the woman. As Enno's miracle-magic takes hold of her, she drops to all fours on the smooth paving stones, smoke-screaming in pain, but, as Enno keeps shaping the energies that are consuming her, she burns less and less until, finally, her qi-immolation subsides and she crumples onto the ground, unconscious but alive, and out of harm's way. Yay! Enno has done something a not-bad-person would do! I mean, I apologize and I will make sure the circumstances that led to something like this happening will not reoccur. As the excitement dies down and the woman doesn't die at all, the spectators slowly begin to emerge from cover. They stare at you with a mixture of wariness and awe, muttering among themselves, getting closer, but keeping a respectful distance from you. Then, one of the braver ones, who get close enough to check if the woman is alright, suddenly exclaims, <Hey, isn't that Fei Lun? It's her! She's back!> The others start shouting with excitement. A relative is found in the crowd. She is gathered up and rushed to her family's house. I could just put in the next scene with you tagging along and interrogating her at her home as well, but I need to take a break, so it'd take me a little while to write that, so might as well post this for now, maybe you'll have some other ideas.
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May 18, 2017 17:23
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Your Genetically Modified GM You follow the crowd, with the intention of talking to the woman when she comes round and no one stops you. Fei Lun's family's house is nothing fancy, but it's not a hovel either. The parents are first stunned to see their daughter back, then grateful to you to the point of obsequiousness. After Fei Lun has been put to bed, you get to hear their story. They, too, had been forced to 'volunteer' one of their children to the monastery study in exchange for a wipe of their sizeable tax debts - the father's eyes harden and jaw muscles twitch when the mother relays this - the Magistrate is as bad as Big Feet Zu and his gangsters, and they were fearing the worst, which, as it turns out, was barely averted. Are you, too, Taoist sages or perhaps arcanists of the Black Academies? Which would be totally fine, of course. Always thought they were amazing, isn't that right? In fact- That's when Fei Lun comes to. She is incredibly weak and not exactly lucid, but you do manage to gently pry some information out of her: She doesn't remember much about her days at the monastery, but it wasn't pleasant. Real Man Xiao is conducting experiments in immortality and he is not picky about his methods. She herself fell victim of one of the experiments and was trying go back to town to warn the others, but would have doubtlessly failed to do so if it weren't for you. As a group. Definitely not Enno alone. You can't get much else out of her and she soon falls back into unconsciousness. The parents don't dare say anything to you, but you can tell by their faces that they'd rather you leave now. Which is when a messenger, a short, bald man in a clerk's robes, walks in, respectfully bows to the family, bows much lower to you and hands you a message from Magistrate. It seems he would be honored to talk to the brave heroes of the town at their earliest convenience about an important matter which concerns the town's security.
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May 18, 2017 23:30
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Your enthusiastically beatboxing GM The clerk, dismissed, hurries out of the house and around the corner as fast as he can. You step out of the house, the pretend camera doing a Michael Bay shot around you. Is Man With A Harmonica playing? Sure. At least in my head-canon it is. You make your way back to the yamen square to some GM-hummed Morricone. Nothing here reminds you of the dramatic events that took place here a short while ago. Note to Enno: Perhaps toss off a quick life-size memorial to yourself during the lunch break? As you approach the yamen gate, there is a number of bored-looking constables there on guard duty, who nod to you, and open it to let you through. One of them breaks off from the group to serve as your guide. Inside it's the typical hustle and bustle of a bureaucracy, instantly recognizable as such even if the costumes are all different. As you walk through the yamen corridors, you see a lot of constables inside rooms, sitting in small groups, following your passage with wary gazes, most of them seemingly having their midday noodles in-between the patrols. Your guide leads you to a set of heavy double doors, redwood and carved in, pushes them open with some difficulty and ushers you inside. It's an audience hall, small, but tastefully decorated - wallpaper with sparse, delicate floral patterns, a few urns and paintings of forested landscaped arranged in a pattern that is, presumably, feng shui as gently caress. And right now, there are also three tables in middle of the hall, with steaming bowls of food being hurriedly put on them by frantic servants. The Magistrate sit at the head of the smallest table, which is set on the small dais at the far end of the hall, a bunch of scrolls in front of him and a pair of antique round glasses on his face. There is also an honor guard of constables lined up next to the walls of the hall; they look distinctly uncomfortable, sullen and slouching. The Magistrate looks at you over his glasses and offers you a genial smile, then takes the glasses off, pushes them aside with the scrolls and greets you in fluent, lightly accented Pelagic: "Ah, the heroes of the day! Welcome, welcome." He groans as he straightens his back, then slumps back in his chair with a disarming grin. "I have to say, I still can't believe the luck of you arriving at the moment you did to save that poor girl. You were like... superheroes, yes? Bang, kapow, snikt!" He chuckles at his joke, then sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I had my suspicions about that place, but I didn't realize it was this bad. With the forest cultists and the brigands I'd say you were the only good thing to happen to me in the last few years." He smiles again. "But come. Sit down. Let's have the customary celebratory banquet." He gestures at the other two tables, where five chairs await you. 
Megazver fucked around with this message at 22:53 on May 19, 2017 |
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May 19, 2017 21:47
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You take in a broad picture of the Magistrate Li. He is in his thirties. Shrewd, competent, not exactly a pillar of morality. He got demoted to this lovely little frontier town after an ill-received poem about the Regent and has spent the last two years trying to curry favor with his superior, Governor Jiang of Yizhao, to get his support for a transfer to somewhere more civilized. He's really had to hustle for this. He has an older wife and a hot young Raktian concubine, whom he adores. The former isn't exactly thrilled about the latter. His future is in flux, you being the chief factor. You can barely see a thread of the future that was likely to happen without you entering the picture; he'd succeed at getting the tranfer and get the gently caress outta town. He is more or less a 3HD commoner. Most of you could probably kill him with a dismissive fillip.
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May 19, 2017 23:50
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Your fluently pelagophone GM Annoyance flickers on his face as Johnny casually mentions his private shame and his innermost ambitions, but it's immediately replaced again by attentive concern. "Report?" He bursts into genuine laughter. "Report that I've sent, nay, ordered someone to dispose of the sage installed here on the order of the Reg- the Governor, to research immortality for the benefit of the," he makes an emphatic pause, "Governor, reporting it to said Governor?" He is too cultured to follow on that with a sarcastic quip, so he elegantly sips from a tea bowl instead, then plainly states: "I don't think that would be to anyone's benefit." He sips from the cup again and stares at one of the paintings on the wall. "You have, of course, seen the mountain to the east? The one closest to the town, shrouded in mist? It is well-known to the scholars in the field for the peculiar red-plumed crows which give it its name - not that you can go there to study them these days. The monastery is on this mountain, near the summit, rebuilt two years ago with the government-stamped money Real Man Xiao brought with him when he arrived to this town." He frowns at the memory. "Either way, these days the monastery is impossible to reach by regular means. The wards, for that is what the mists are, confuse you, crush your spirit, make you walk in circles until you stumble out of the mists at the foot of the mountain, having made no progress. I am not privy to any means of passing through them." "When the time comes to send more... students," he grimaces at the word, "his apprentice, a woman by the name of Perfected Woman Wen comes down from the mountain to lead them back up. I do not know her methodology in this matter. I've discussed this with the guards that are sent to escort them and they haven't noticed her do anything other than just... walk. She was going to come down to lead the current batch back up, but I suspect that is no longer going to happen." He gestures for a constable to refill his tea bowl and strokes his beard in thought, before continuing: "If the noble heroes are open to hearing a few idle thoughts of mine, may I suggest a potential course of action? There is a man in Gongfang by the name of Big Feet Zu, who is the big rice broker in the region." He scowls with distaste. "He is also a villain and a tattooed dog, a brigand-leader, one that I've been forced to co-exist with, because I lack the strength to deal with him." "I have no solid evidence for this, but I have reason to believe he's had his own dealings with Real Man Xiao. He is on the death's door himself, you see, and desperate for any means of delaying the inevitable. I am sure if you were to go to his estate outside of town and... hurry him along, you would find something useful to your cause there and, at the very least, deprive Real Man Xiao of a useful ally. Perhaps even force his hand somehow." He seems extremely pleased to hear praise of his Pelagic. "Thank you. We here in Dulimbai, of course, do not have access to all the pre-War luxuries that you in the Republic take for granted, but we are not entirely cut off from your culture. Those of us lucky enough to serve in the capital have a certain degree of access to some of your," he carefully forms the unusual word in his mouth, "media. Printed books, recordings of music... even motion pictures." He smiles at some private memory.
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May 20, 2017 12:36
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Your GM, from the depths of a trenchcoat The Magistrate quirks an eyebrow. "Actually, it might be best for everyone involved if we kept any of our arrangements strictly unofficial. You don't strike as someone who needs deputizing to accomplish these things, anyway." "I will, of course, order my constables to not interfere in any of your activies." Megazver fucked around with this message at 19:36 on May 20, 2017 |
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May 20, 2017 14:44
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Your glorious Spielfuhrer "Advice?" Magistrate Li lightly shrugs. "Just do whatever it is you do. I am sure whatever his rabble can do against you is no match for your considerable talents." He mimes looking at a wristwatch, offers you a wry smile and rises from the table. "Now, if you will excuse me. Paperwork is, how you would say, a bitch without a word processor." He pauses. "Whatever that even is. Feel free to finish the meal to your satisfaction. The dumplings, in particular, are usually the highlight of my day." "May your ancestors guide you." He walks out of the hall, followed by most of the constables. ------------------------------- The constable who first led you around explains the way to Zu's estate - apparently it's about a mile to the east, can't miss it, good luuuuck - then hurriedly disappears back in the yamen. The gate closes shut with a neat clunk. The constables guarding it studiously avoid looking in your direction. It's quiet. The sky is bright blue, not a single cloud in it. The air is still. You look at each other, put on your choo-choo wheels and mount the rails thoughtfully provided by your kind, benevolent GM. ------------------------------- On your way to the east gate, you pass by Enno's nemesis, the pork bun vendor. He gives Enno the evil eye, then notices the rest of you and, deciding this is an opportunity not to be passed by, wheels his cart closer to you. "Honorable heroes, you look like you could use a pork bun!" He pats the cart. "Pork bun make you strong, strong like pork bun! Why live life without pork bun in hand?" For a moment he is sincerely lost in sheer bafflement at the concept. "Why? Take pork bun now! Take five each, become whole man!" He bows to Joey. "Or woman!" ------------------------------ As you approach the gate you come upon the other book-detailed opening hook scene. *cracks his copy-pasting fingers* Two burly, tattooed hooligans are brawling in the middle of an empty side-street, their shirtless torsoes slick with sweat. They grapple, punch and kick at each other with enthusiastic shouts, but neither of them reaches for the knives that are hanging on their belts. The match seems to be an uneven one, with one of the brawlers obviously doing better than the other. The few bystanders that are still there are very busy pretending they aren't seeing anything and getting the hell away from there. An old lady pulls window shutters shut just as one of the hooligans slams the other into them. You see a constable appear from around the corner, mid-bite into a pork bun, pause staring at what's going on and, without even turning around, step back, back, back and out of sight. What do you do?
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May 22, 2017 17:09
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Master of Games, I'm Pulling Your Strings The pork buns are great. You buy some and move on, enthusiastically chewing. Enno is deffo missing out. Om nom nom. Roth, who is right there with you the whole time, as he always is, why wouldn't he be, has been even more characteristically quiet after doing a quick practice Fate read on the Pork Bun Guy. Whatever he saw there has left him in an amazed stupor and he's spent the remainder of your walk a few steps behind you, shaking his head and muttering under breath. He snaps out of it, though, when Tam breaks up the fight. The two hoodlums stare at the giant man in disbelief, vainly trying to pull their hands out of his grip. One of them falls to his knees for extra leverage and puts all he has into an effort to first loosen Tam's grip, then just try to uncurl Tam's pinky. He pants, his eyes bulging with effort, but he gets nowhere. The other's hand briefly goes to the knife at his belt, but then, realizing the sheer inhuman strength of the man before him and the fact that with companions, Tam outnumbers them as well, and reconsiders, making a show of slowly dropping the knife and raising his empty hand in a conciliatory gesture. Roth scans them. The gentlemen before you are Ji Number Three (2HD, formerly fated to win the brawl, currently knifeless) and Oxhead Po (1HD, kneeling). Former is an ex-farmer, the latter a disgraced constable, both now thugs in employ of Big Feet Zu. They were fighting over who gets to stand guard over the slave pens back in Zu's estate until the time comes for another chattel run up the mountain, something as trifling as this not being something you bother Zu over, so they were working it out between the two. Their future, as ever the case for mortals whose paths directly cross yours, is in chaotic flux right now, directly depending on your actions.
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May 23, 2017 11:50
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Your Perfect August GM The two thugs frown at you in confusion. Po, still on his knees, speaks up: <What? Listen, Lady, you don't want any business with Big Fee- Ow! Just follow the east road outta town, there's signs and poo poo.> Ji scowls at Tam, then spits at the ground and replies to Joey: <Yeah, we're not loving with Zu, arms or no arms. Broken arms is better than being worked over with a kitchen cleaver." He half-heartedly kicks at Po, who easily dodges it. "You should break this oval office's arms, though. He loving deserves it.> <Hey, gently caress you!> <No, no, gently caress you.> They exchange insults a while longer, before Tam makes his displeasure known. Finally, Ji sighs: <Hey, why the gently caress are you trying to find Zu anyway?> ---------------------------------------- They stare in confusion at Roth: <Why the gently caress would we know how to get to the monastery?>
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May 24, 2017 00:03
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Your GM is very disappointed in you. Instead of having a conversation with the already cooperating ruffians and perhaps learning a thing or two, Enno just electrocutes a dude. Good job, I suppose. Through the magic of magical magic he avoid electrocuting the other two dudes even though they're in skin-to-skin contact. Woo. The dudes sullenly lead you to Zu's estate. You leave through the east gate, follow the only road east, then turn to a side-road at the big, obvious sign that points the way to the rice broker's estate, just as you've been told on two separate occasions. It takes you about twenty minutes. You all stop in a small copse on a small hill just before the estate, the men refusing to lead you any further even after further threats. You take a good look at the estate before you. It's a walled compound with a single front gate; there is a deep, quick stream right in front of it, with a flimsy-looking arch bridging it. Inside, you can see a great hall where Zu must live, as well as a bunch of other smaller structures, no doubt where the retainers live and where the rice is held. What do you do?
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May 25, 2017 12:59
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Your industrious post-wizard GM Ji and Po exchange wary glances. Po looks at his feet, avoiding looking up at any of you, scratches the back of his head and mumbles out: <Um. Uh. If you people actually gonna do anything about the slaves, the pens are behind the big house. Uh. There's a girl there by name of Xiulan, um... tell her Po from her village will wait for her at the crossroads.> Ji snorts with derision at this and just starts walking away. Po, reluctantly, follows. -------------------------------------- You just walk towards the estate in broad daylight. A lone shaggy goat stands in the shade of a tree, chewing its cud, watching your passage with blank disinterest. As you get closer to the bridge, a few thugs seemingly cast from the same mold as Ji and Po step out of the gate, clubs on their tattooed shoulders and the biggest one calls you out: <Oi! 'Oo the gently caress are you lot? This is private property!>
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May 26, 2017 12:07
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You efficient stop-gap GM The ruffians exchange confused glances and, as THE BOULDER keeps advancing, now confidently striding over the rickety bridge, decide on a course of action: they retreat behind the sturdy wooden gate and push it shut just as you reach it. From right on the other side, you hear someone blowing a shrill whistle and sounds of lots of men shouting and running around.
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May 27, 2017 17:18
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Your GM, pulsating, ever pulsating The Boulder rolls through the gate like, well, a boulder and is met on the other side by the mob of thugs, completely blocking your way in a half-circle, several rows deep, ranks closed, warily staring at all of you as you follow Tam into their compound. They armed with a variety of implements of violence, ranging from clubs and knives to sickles and pitchforks, with the obvious future MVP of the oncoming fight sequence, a guy clutching a large bronze dildo in each hand, a cast iron pot perched at a rakish angle on his head, glaring at you from the back row with his non-lazy eye. They don't exactly look happy to see you, but the combination of Tam more or less tearing the gate in half with his pinkies and sheer force of his inspirational persona, have made them rather reluctant to confront you. Then the double doors of the great hall behind them swing open and out walks an elderly man in a simple black tangzhuang with the sleeves rolled up, flanked by more thugs. He stops on the high porch, slowly lowers himself into a gilded folding chair set-up behind him by one of his bodyguards, weaves his knobby fingers together on his belly right below what you immediately recognize as a Celestial Shard hanging from a chain around his neck, and looks at each of you in turn with the dead eyes of a man absolutely indifferent to human suffering. <That gate was valuable,> he says mildly. <It is unfortunate you've felt the need to deprive me of it. I must confess, I am feeling a certain degree of resentment toward you at this point and am inclined toward inclement action. Be concise in stating your business.> (In case you were wondering, the dildo guy holds them by the head and bludgeons with the balls.)
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May 28, 2017 11:55
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Your intriguingly convex GM Zu blinks twice, then grimly smiles at Enno, showing a mouthful of crooked yellow teeth. <Of course. Let's resolve this impasse as cultured men would.> He scratches his bearded cheek with long nails. <I do not know how to pass through the wards erected around the mountain. Real Man Xiao is as paranoid as he is puissant.> He leans forward and adds, in a low, conspiratorial voice: <He has been supplying me with sacred medicine that will prolong my life in exchange for more slaves for his research and its effects have been many and obvious.> He shows you a small bottle of liquid he pulls out of an inner pocket of his jacket, then settles back into his chair. <He sends over his studentess, Perfected Woman Wen, to escort the slave shipments and their guards up the mountain. I don't know how she bypasses the wards.> He shrugs. <I suppose if you're interested in going up there, some sort of ruse may be arranged, perhaps with you posing as the guards.> He fumbles at the chain until he has the Shard in his hand. He stares at it, entranced, proud, regretful. <Truly, this is a powerful artifact. As long as I wear it, no harm can come to me.> He tosses the Shard over to Enno. Zu's biggest bodyguard, who's been listening to this conversation with increasing incredulity, gawps at the sight of Zu taking off his most precious relic, his sloping brow knitting itself in thought. Finally, something seems to click inside his head just as Zu tosses the Shard. He stares at you in alarm and shouts out: <Oi, lads! They's messing with our guv with jinxes! Get 'em, get 'em good!> The bodyguards grab Zu by the arms and begin to pull him inside the hall. The crowd of ruffians begin to angrily shout and advance upon you.
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May 28, 2017 15:39
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gwentgwentgwentgwe Weapons clatter upon the ground from slack hands. The thugs first loudly exhale, their eyes snapping to their new boss, Enno, then groan, their mouth agape with agape, as they are filled with Boulder-induced philia. (I am not sorry.) Do they want to rub their faces in his pecs? Oh, many of them did even before he miracled them, but now, now even more so. Some curl up on the ground, overwhelmed by the sensation of being under two separate brainwashing Miracles at the same time, but that's hardly your problem, is it now? The thug closest to you shakes his shaved, tattooed head and speaks: <Wow. Wow. I just want to say-> --------------------------------------------- He doesn't finish the sentence. The reality freezes, all of you being stuck in it like flies in amber. The air is translucent marble against your skin. For a heartbeat, or an eternity, nothing changes. Then, you hear slow clapping. The Fourth Wall draws aside like a curtain, reality rippling in folds, and, down the glowing staircase of superior posting, backlit by the warm glow of immaculate rulings, descends the gentleman doing the clapping, a tall man clad in a well-tailored suit woven of finest hand-crafted keks, his ursine head mischievously grinning. It is, of course, I, your handsome, benevolent GM. That's right bitches, we're going...  ---------------------------------------------  I- He? I? He. He gives you a warm fatherly smile which, when performed by a bear face, involves forty-two teeth and a hanging slobbery tongue, and speaks, in a gravelly, deep-voiced Received Pronunciation slightly tinged by a slavic accent. "Congratulations. You stomped these ne'er-do-wells into the ground - as I knew you would! Turned that grey question mark right into a nice, juicy, glowing exclamation point! Ding, gratz, amirite?" He pauses, putting his hands together at his chin, and frowns in thought. "Here's the thing, though. I wanted some... blood, you know? I wanted some," he air-quotes, "bodies to hit the," he air-quotes again, "floor. A rousing match of decapitation soccer. Someone getting sodomized by their own torn out spine. Feet-first immolation. You know, the good stuff." He winks at Johhny, then continues: "This module does not exactly overflow with more opportunities for ethically excusable bloodbaths and, quite frankly, I'd like to give the mob combat section of the rules a fumbling, enthusiastic, exploratory fondle." Having walked entirely past you, he swivels on his heel and starts walking back. "So. So. Here's my proposal, which it's very kind of you to have already preemptively accepted. How about we put this current timeline, Timeline A, the Boring Timeline aside for the bit, yeah?" He puts an imaginary box aside and sets a second, equally imaginary box on the imaginary table in front of you. "This is now Timeline B." He pauses for effect, looking at everyone in turn with a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye. "The Darkest Timeline. The Murder Timeline." He snaps his fingers and the eyes of every mook in the area begin to glow a dark, angry red. "There we go. None of this non-violence bullshit. Someone's getting strangled with their own entrails up in this bitch - and not a moment too soon. And, of course-" another forty-two tooth grin, "what is an alternate evil timeline without some alternate evil personas?" "Tam, I regret to inform you that doing the Tooth Fairy has tanked your career and, well, I suspect that might have soured your disposition somewhat. Let's say... murderously? I dunno, just give me the best Bad Tam you've got." "Joey, you're one who gets to play the Bad Cop now. Let's get that After Action Report classified as snuff pornography, yeah?" "Johnny, go nuts. Make a giant you-piloted corpse-suit and wear it, skin to skin. Pile corpses together and hump them. Finally, yeah? Do everything you've been wanting to do, you bizarre human being." "Enno, this one is a real stretch, characterization-wise, but only because of how much confidence I have in you - this is the opposite day, so try to be a nice, basically decent person for a change, yeah?" "Roth, just, uh... actually post something, anything, I dunno. We all believe in you." "Oh and everyone gets goatees." He winks at Joey. "Everyone." "Okay." He clasps his hands together and rubs them. "Any questions?" "Good. Lights, camera, action!" ------------------------------------------ <DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE,> finishes his thought the thug from earlier, you remember him, it was just two scene-wipes ago. The thugs scream in incoherent rage, as they scramble to pick up the weapons they've just dropped and the Dildo Guy, ullulating, begins to bang out a battle rhythm on his head-pot. What do you do? Actually, let's rewind to you being at the gates of the compound, and refund effort to that point if necessary. Megazver fucked around with this message at 18:11 on May 29, 2017 |
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May 29, 2017 17:06
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Second attempt at lovely post Okay. You all miss Dildo Guy with your regular attacks. Therefore, I am promoting Dildo Guy to Lord Dildo Man, Mortal Hero Extraordinaire and he is no-longer Fray-able. You are now obligated to refer to him in his posts by his full title. His lazy eye un-lazies itself with a wet plop, his muscle mass grows to almost rival the Boulder's and he even grows a chin, better to keep that pot on. He celebrates this turn of events with a triumphant, blood-curling screech and starts banging on his pot twice as hard. This gets his troops all pumped up and poo poo, to the effect of putting them under the effect of Invincible Iron General. Not enough to actually help them land either of their attacks, alas, but still. Their Overwhelm attempts go better, since they don't roll to hit those. They go for what they consider easy targets, which would be Enno and Johnny. Enno, somehow you do a 180 reversal of personality and still remain an annoying wanker, so even as you blather on about non-violence, a thug jumps on you from the top of a nearby barn, screaming "JUST SHUT UP WILL YOU" and tackles you to the ground, whereupon you're instantly set up by a dozen more thugs. Johnny, they rush you just as you, back turned to the battle, put the finishing touches upon your undead horde, tackle you to the ground and begin wailing upon you, even if their sheer numbers are working against them here. On the upside, you are now a proud papa of a dozen undead pigs. Congratulations, I suppose? Save Hardiness or take one damage each. Roth is a one-man murder machine. Nice to have someone competent around for a change. I look forward to your next post, goon sir. Joey, you're mostly standing there, right in the center of the raging battle, going "Hey guys, anyone want to throw a punch at the chick wreathed in pure murder-fire? Anyone? Come on, guys. Come on," but somehow, there aren't any takers. Lord Dildo Man, though, decides to indulge her. Still ululating, he rushes Joey and smacks her right in the face for, I poo poo you not, four damage with a hefty bronze nutsack, even as her flames burn him in return... except the flames bypass him, not causing him any harm, as he activates Fear No Steel from Endurance as his second Gift. He attempts to repeat this performance with a quick swing at The Boulder, but it goes wide. So, recap. You deal a lot of damage to the mob. Dildo Guy is Lord Dildo Man now. Enno, Johnny, save Hardiness or take 1 damage. Joey, take 4 damage, unless you're doing anything about it. I think that's it. If it isn't, do tell me. Also, if you noticed, Ryuujin put a link to his sheet in his name in the post. That's quite useful. Please do the same.
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May 30, 2017 16:21
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Your cackling, dildo-twirling GM As the Boulder bunches the fists together and gives his spiel, Lord Dildo Man clanks the dildoes together in a mock salute of his own. Then the Boulder hits him. He hits him so hard, there is a shock wave, which blows everyone off their feet. He hits him so hard, the clap blows out paper windows in Gongfang. The blow would turn a lesser man into a fine blood mist... but it merely brings Lord Dildo Man down to one knee and hammers him up to his ankles into the ground. Yet, as he slowly turns his face back to the Boulder, his bulging eyes triumphantly gleam and there is no sign of damage... for he has activated his third and final Gift, Nine Iron Walls and is now immune to all physical damage until his next turn! Joey's fire blast would still hurt him... except she misses him by a hair (19 lol). He smiles at the Boulder, a line of slobber trailing down his chin and returns the favor, connecting the dildo on an upswing with the Boulder's magnificent goateed jaw and sending him reeling. He rises, steps over his foe and raises his dick-club again, about to brain him, but Johhny's timely probability-futzing intervention makes the swing goes wide, as Lord Dildo Man slips on some blood-mud at the last second. In other news, the enemy gang has almost been dismantled by your combined efforts, but they're still going. They thin Johhny's undead herd somewhat as it rips into them, then counter-strike at Roth and Johhny, piling onto them, kicking and punching and screaming. To recap, LDM activated Nine Iron Walls, doesn't take any damage and is immune to physical (but no other) damage until his next turn. Boulder takes four damage. Pigs take one damage. Mob's other regular attack fails. Roth and Johhny get Overwhelmed and need to save Hardiness or take one damage each. EDIT: Also, unless your rolls are super-poo poo, you're probably taking down the mob through Fray alone. Megazver fucked around with this message at 13:48 on May 31, 2017 |
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May 31, 2017 12:05
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Your definitely busy and not at all procrastinating GM The Bear-Headed Gentleman reclines in a chaise-longue hovering a few feet above you, mixing a Bloody Mary with actual blood. He sprinkles some player salt on top, stirs the drink with his pinky, then carefully laps a sip with his long, pink tongue and lets out a satisfied sigh. "Ah, that's the good stuff. Okay, real talk time." "You're definitely going to overpower my man Dildinator here, even though he's hella beefy, but it's probably going to be somewhat of a slog, with a whole lot of Effort burning and/or turtling and sulking and, perhaps, one of you dying. Let's say... Enno?" He and Lord Dildo Man both look up. "Yeah. Swatted from skies by a well-placed dick-toss, then dildoed into a pulp." Lord Dildo Man makes an enthusiastic noise at this. "No, no, don't get excited now. Anyway, making this dude this hard to murder made sense to me, thematically, but it probably wasn't the most exciting option to pick. I am reminded, now that this is of no relevance of use whatsoever, of the difference between the original 4E monsters and the later, refined Monster Manual designs, where they've realized that it's more fun to reduce the monster HP and AC and give them more fun abilities to murder players with, than have the players beat up giant bricks for ten rounds." He leans forward and adds, in a stage whisper: "Then again, I wonder how much butthurt him landing a good hard offensive Gift would generate. Ah, some other time, perhaps." "Anyway, here's another one of my pre-accepted proposals. Enough rolling. You just describe how you murder Dildor in your words. We'll," air-quotes, "roleplay it." Lord Dildo Man looks up in alarm, pleadingly whimpering. "Hush now. I'm getting to the good part. And in return, so that Dildaroo here doesn't feel too bad, you also decide among yourselves who he gets to murder before he and his entire timeline wink out of existence. Give me a nice, juicy death scene. Hey, why not scenes, plural - the Goatee Team is about to dissolve like a sugar cube in a tea cup anyway, right? Deal?" Megazver fucked around with this message at 23:49 on Jun 2, 2017 |
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Jun 2, 2017 23:38
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The GM Post "Truly, you have outdone yourself. Does anyone else want to attempt to top this magnificent effort post?"
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Jun 3, 2017 15:21
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gwentgwentgwentgwe Rubbing the bridge of the nose is hard when it's a bear nose. "Good enough." ---------------------------- ... Weapons clatter upon the ground from slack hands. The thugs first loudly exhale, their eyes snapping to their new boss, Enno, then groan, their mouth agape with agape, as they are filled with Boulder-induced philia. (I am not sorry.) Do they want to rub their faces in his pecs? Oh, many of them did even before he miracled them, but now, now even more so. Some curl up on the ground, overwhelmed by the sensation of being under two separate brainwashing Miracles at the same time, but that's hardly your problem, is it now? The thug closest to you shakes his shaved, tattooed head and speaks to the Boulder: <Wow. Wow. I just want to say... you are amazing. Sir, I think I speak for all of us when I say that I want, nay, need, respectfully, to motorboat your chest, sir, no homo.> A wave of embarrassed, hopeful nodding washes over the mob. Dildo Guy elbows his way through the crowd, admiringly staring at you, one eye a time and shyly stammers out: <Thir, may... may I thqueeze your bithep? With my fathe? It would be an honor.> The bodyguards carrying Zu away weren't fast enough to avoid the combined mental takeover and stop dead in their tracks, dropping their charge onto the red wood floors, where he lies, softly groaning. --------------------------- Those of you who care about these things, for some reason, walk around the grand hall and into the back of the compound, where the slave pens are situated. For my convenience entirely, there are no guards here, all of them having rushed to the defense when you broke through the gate. The pens are small brick structure, windowless, the prison bar door locked, but not for long. Inside there's a dozen collared slaves, all Ren, none older than thirty, in varying states of abuse, now varily watching your every move. Megazver fucked around with this message at 19:13 on Jun 5, 2017 |
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Jun 5, 2017 14:38
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Sleepy GM The slaves slowly shuffle out of the pens, blinking at the sun, looking around themselves in wonder. As you talk to them, you learn that a) slavery is legal in Dulimbai b) enslavement is a frequent punishment for failing to pay one's debts, running away from one's duty and rebellion c) they are, indeed, not town locals d) they are not super enthusiastic about heading to town, where they might get reenslaved again and e) but, and surely this is a shock to you, they are not super-keen on staying slaves either. Xiulan turns out to be a rather stout young lady with a no-nonsense look on her face. She intently listens to what you have to say about Po, then snorts. <Oh. That arsehole. Hrmm. I suppose I'll hear him out. At the crossroads, you say? I suppose I'll be off, then. Thank you, strangers. Your ancestors smile upon you.> She bows to you and walks out of the compound. The slaves know nothing about the monastery or being sent there and are rather alarmed to find out what would befall them there. At this point, though, Zu rejoins you, his bodyguards all but carrying him by his armpits. He clearly doesn't approve of your emancipatory zeal, but wisely says nothing about it, in dialogue that would be amazing, hilarious and character-revealing, if I bothered to write it. It is, however, rather late and I am trying to re-dedicate myself to my pledge to write only shitposts with zero effort, so you just get a summary. He does say that they've been expecting Perfected Woman Wen to come and pick up the newest slave shipment in about a week's time. So I suppose you have until then to spend all that Dominion you have. Speaking of which, I guess you get like 2 Dominion each, good for you. Johhny heads inside the great hall. There is, indeed, a kitchen - a large one and well stocked, by local standards. More importantly, as you walk through the house you note that there is plenty of poo poo here to take, should one be so inclined. With a couple of hours and a cart, you could get about five Wealth's worth of loot in art, furniture and whatever valuables Zu has stashed out of here.
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Jun 7, 2017 00:21
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As a quick reminder, the last post in the recruitment thread is a set of guidelines on what you can do with Influence/Dominion
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Jun 9, 2017 13:05
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GM Okay. Let's negative-effort this. Johnny summons a skeleton cook. Sorry, let me try this again. Johnny summons a random skeleton, expects him to cook. Does he? I've considered this and decided, you know what, gently caress you. The skeleton just stands there, chopping a towel with a spatula, every second of its existence an abomination. This costs one Influence, I guess, and you still have two Dominion to make me want to murder you with. You find two Wealth's worth of threaded coins, silver bars and some jewelry, most of it obviously stolen and put one Wealth's worth of party's common loot on your skeleton. There is about three more Wealth in art, furniture, etc laying around. The actual cook, a stout, greying man still clutching a cleaver, who just came back from the courtyard, watches this all happening with mounting, incredulous horror. --------------------------------- Roth looks for records which would detail all of Zu's villainous plans in . He doesn't find any, because a) how much paperwork do you think random people that weren't part of the state bureaucracy did in pre-modern China and b) they're a loving criminal organization, you don't write that poo poo down, come on. That said, Zu is still there and, in his mind-controlled state, is perfectly willing to answer any questions you wish to pose him. When you ask the skelecook to make tea, he drops the spatula, grabs a flower pot from a windowsill and sets it on the stove. It'll be ready any moment now. -------------------------------- The thugs nod to the Boulder's words. A new life sounds good. One of them mentions that there is a large area a bit to the north that is entirely disuses because of how unsuitable to farming it is... but perhaps that's not a problem to someone like the Boulder? (I've looked at the Earth Word and it strikes me that it's mis-named. Given how everything it can do is either about being hard to destroy, building poo poo or loving poo poo up with rocks, I think it should have been named Stone or something. I don't think the Word, as its presently written, allows for significant Fertility-level miracle action. At best, I think I can let you improve soil quality in any area you want, so that it's be way easier to farm there, but they'd still have to do all the work of actually farming.)
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Jun 11, 2017 12:25
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GM Okay. Enno's plan works. Does being able to talk to the long-departed make any sense in this setting's cosmology? I dunno. Do I give any fucks? Not really. People get to talk to Gran Gran again. Sometimes Gran Gran is in the spirit world the Dulimbaian ancestors go, getting put on the magical speakerphone right when she's getting her spirit dick on. Sometimes Gran Gran is in Hell, getting rape-tortured for an eternity. Either way, fun times. The Boulder spends a week erecting a picture card megatown for, like, fifty ex-gangsters and a dozen slaves. (Let's say it goes entirely unnoticed by the guy sitting on top of the mountain right outside it.) The new urbanites gawk in awe at the town's many wonders, but are somewhat crestfallen to find out that they'll still have to, like, work and poo poo. At one point, the subject is cautiously broached with a "Bro, can't you, like, give us some wine fountains and bacon trees or something? And maybe some pussy wall sockets?" The others murmur in assent, nodding; this is obviously both possible and reasonable. Still, under the Boulder's watchful eye and filled with Joey's endurance, they take to the lands outside the town and begin the hard work of turning them into fields. A few of the less fortunate members of the Gongfang civil society also trickle in the new, yet unnamed town, but the bulk of them stay, the Magistrate making it known that he will not tolerate any shrinking of his tax base. Should you want more residents of Gongfang to move to the town, some action would need to be taken. Likewise, there are the followers of the Golden Lord still camped all over the surrounding forests, but we're pretty much not even doing that, so whatev. Zu doesn't tell Roth much he doesn't already know. There's the Golden Lord in the forests, whatever he or it is, and up to the point of you taking over Zu was very concerned about his rebel cult coming for him. It also turns out Zu and the Magistrate had a lot closer working relationship than you've been told; Zu was paying half of what he squeezed out of the local populace to the Magistrate in exchange for his constables turning a blind eye. He is rather miffed to find out that the Magistrate has sent you to kill him, but not for long, because you do. The first blow suffices, but you thwack him again just in case. I guess Skellie is still a thing. That's about it? Let's say you've all spent your Dominion. You can all level to 2. What exactly is your plan for what Wen comes for the slaves? I want the finalized specifics. I would be delighted, surprised if you actually discussed this in character in this thread, but I suppose I'll settle for one person saying something in Discord and the rest just going "hurr I guess".
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Jun 17, 2017 20:29
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| # ¿ Apr 27, 2024 07:59 |
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THIS TOOK SO MUCH EFFORT TO WRITE OKAY You spend a week doing your thing. Then, the morning Xiao's apprentice is supposed to arrive, you assemble in the conference room to go over the last details of your plan and find yourselves looking at a young, small woman dressed as a Taoist nun, sitting in one of the chair, her feet dangling a few inches above the floor. She's nursing a cup of tea and admiring the fresco of the Creation of the Boulder by the Boulder, As Witnessed by the Boulders. As you walk in, she turns her head and beams at you. <I am not acquainted with this tradition, but I rather admire the technique. What does the finger touching signify?> Then she notices the Boulder walk in. <Oh... my.> She looks back and forth between him and the fresco, her eyes growing wider. <The depiction does not do you justice. You are so... big.> She blushes and giggles into her hands.
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Jun 24, 2017 18:28
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