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Prince of Space
Apr 17, 2016

Your weapons are useless against me!



Name: Vivien Lumière
Initiative: 15
Health: 7/10 HP
Background: Vivien is a high disciple of the Divine Order of the Pristine Depths, a healing-based faith devoted to Morgan Le Fey, the Lady in the Lake and High Enchantress of Arthurian Legend.
AI Actions: Heal allies, Defend weaker creatures, Cure the sick and maimed, Enchant party's weapons and defenses, Eliminate dangers
Skills: Enchantment:5d6, Curative Magic: 4d6 Powers: Holy Smite: 2d6 Defenses: Aegis of Camelot: 4d6 Talent: Prismatic Refraction: Vanilla Max Targets: 3

Vivien picked up the Cat and put it beneath the table where it belonged. Surely the Cat would come bounding back onto the table (as Cats are wont to do), but Vivien needed a second to think without the Cat's chaos ruining the the sanctity of the board game they were trying to play.

Vivien looked at the works of her fellow players. The Vampire, the Witch, AND the Knight had all elevated their own Peoples from seemingly nowhere, and they all needed help of some kind. They needed food, they needed shelter, they needed resources and skills besides. The Cat, on the other hand, had acted only as a cat would, merely playing with the smaller creatures like a lion would a mouse. The other woman in the room, however...

Vivien tutted to herself as she watched her new friend - the Fortune Teller Wilma - kick and smack at the table with her ring-laden hands and her gaudy shoes as though it had personally wronged her. Was the old woman trying to stuff a paper currency into a slot at the base of the table? This woman was certainly strange, but she still deserved to be relieved of the burden of her wounds...

Hold on, Vivien thought, hadn't she just attempted to cure the other woman of her injuries? A blinking diode emblem emblazoned across the panel in front of Vivien caught her attention. Interesting. She had what was called one (1) "Dominion," according to the game's infographics. Had her turn already come and gone? She touched a set of intuitive glyphs and found herself reviewing a comprehensive history of what exactly she'd done to affect the expansive world somehow teeming with life far below her. Apparently the table had redirected, absorbed, and transmitted the curative magic she'd directed at Wilma through the world's moon...

"Hey, that was my magic, not yours!" She quietly chided the table and wagged an accusatory finger. There was some kind of absorption-attuned Chaos magic at work here, surely.

Nonetheless, being praised as a goddess of the Moon had its own benefits. "Lumos, the Painter" they called her, tableside. Vivien blushed at the thought, adding a little rouge to her pallid cheek. They must think quite highly of her, in any case - it must be the right thing then, to act in kind. Vivien knew she had to act as kindly and reliably as the Moon itself - quite a tall order, considering all the Peoples down below!

She looked to her options:
The Glitchies, championed by Cepi Yu,
The Goblins, commanded by the Vampiress (Nezera), at war with
The Imps Scorchers, summoned by the Witch (Stefania), all of whom are besieged by
The Armies of Prey, ruled only by their hunger and cowardice.

All of them in some way worshiped the moon.

All of them were cold. No longer.

She layered her magics with the inner flames of heat, passion, protection and inspiration into her life-sustaining healing magic.

Enchanting: Buffing Inner Fire onto Curative Magic: 5d6-4d6 5 - Success!

She would help those that were least able to fend for themselves, one turn at a time.

She navigated the table's myriad menus, placed her three target markers on three of the Armies of Prey that she could spot on the board: two to the west (by the Glitchie forest) and one to the east (by the dormant volcano).

Legend has it these monstrous armies of the wretched were once peoples from peaceful and plentiful societies. Let's bring them back to their former states of glory with a little chronomantically-attuned healing magic.

Chrono-Curative Alteration: Healing with Inner Fire on Three Armies of Prey: 9d6 38 (38/3 = 12.667 / Target)

Vivien posted:

Action 1:
Enchanting: Buffing Inner Fire onto Curative Magic: 5d6-4d6 5 - Success!

Action 2:
Vivien targets the two westernmost Armies of Prey and the Army of Prey to the northeast.
Chrono-Curative Alteration: Healing with Inner Fire on Three Armies of Prey: 9d6 38 (38/3 = 12.667 / Target)

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Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006
Jinat Ulukaï, hâ oagé.

[Floor Λ]
[The Path]
Wave 1-2



[Emille]
CRIBBAGE! The word echoed throughout the cloudscape, indicating another exciting round of the card game that no one really knew how to play.

Emille was having a rough time of it, which meant she was losing, which meant she was winning? Like most things in the Dungeon, it was hard to really wrap your head around, which she asumed was the point.
Her mentor, Marius, seemed a much better fit for such head-games, having spent the past few hundred millenia (if his ramblings where to be believed) discovering the secrets of the cosmos.

She lay a slice of bologna on its edge, declaring it a hotel and asked for the Old Man to pay his dues. She could see his mouth twitching involountarially, almost a smile.

Adventuring Knowhow to play Pointless Cribbage: 1d6+1 - Pointless Shame [1d6] = 1 vs It Is Pointless...: 1d6 1 = Draw! Ties goes to Players! Reversed! Ties goes to NPCS! Failure! Reversed! Success!



"Ah. Hm. Nothing or Double?"

His burgenoing smile wavered, and that is when Shadow coallessed from the aether, enveloping Emille whole.



"Emille! Sit tight, this will take but a moment!"

[Talent.... Success?]

--

[Molriir]

The dwarf ranted at all who would hear him, a truly pointless exercise as no one was around. All the same, he clutched his story to his heart, knowing full well that his story and purpose was the only thing that had got him this far, and further.
He disapeared down a path leading nowhere, out of sight and out of mind.

--

[Sky-Irk]
[AI-Action]


"Sure, why not." She replied, sitting down besides Emille. "Though I should warn you, I'm the local Cribbage Grand Master!"

The Old Man nodded, placing a tuft of hair on the game-board, shouting CRIBBAGE! spittle flying through the air.

Master Spy to be a Master of Cardgames: 5d6 22 vs It Is Pointless...: 1d6 = 6 = Success! Overskill! Reversed! Reverse-Overskill!

She had no idea how to respond, but the cards were clearly in her favour and as such she won the game handidly, losing all she had in the process.

--

[Emille, Marius]

The Mark[1d6] to heal Emille: [1d6] - Shame of Decrepitude[2d6] = -9 = -9/6 Reversed! = NaN!

As Marius sat, lonesom in his darkened sanctum, projecting himself astrally, so to did Emille sit, most alone in all of Creation, in Void.



It was as if a tear had broken through the cloth that was her Experience, and somehow she had fallen through. There was no connection, no emotion, no sense besides her mind.
With nothing to measure against, she drifted, unable to even observe.

--

Marius stretched in his comfy recliner, his extended sensorium still reeling from the madness of the Path. His skin was flusher, his hide less guant. He even felt flab on his lower abdomen. Curious.



He reached out to Emille through his link, but found only static. Static and a memory, of an old man frowning, smiling, an old man counting. An old man nearly dying. An old man, so familiar. An old man from long ago.

[Success? Marius earns a Clue! This may be traded for Lore at your earliest convienience.]

--

[Wave 1-2]
The Stairwell




Molriir had walked for an inch of beard, having lost all other means to track his time. He did not truly know when the clouds had become cobble, the cobble brick and the brick a staircase, but it hardly mattered now.
He was out, and the only way forward was down. Looking back was a fools errand, he knew. The only way forward was down. The only way forward, was down.

Emille popped into existnce without any fanfare whatsoever, appearing right besides Molriir as if she had never been anywhere else. Her shadow was gone, and contacting Marius proved fruitless.
She shrugged and continued downwards, with the distinct feeling that someone ominious had happened to her.

Wherever Sky-Irk, the Duchess, was she did not join them on their descent. They walked downwards quietly, clutching head and heart, without word spoken for another day.

They reached the next landing soon after, the hinges of the door barring their progres old and rusted, handle dusty and unused.



They opened it, and went through, sparing not a glance for what lay behind them.

--

[Wave 1-2]
Floor 5 – Halls of Sorrow




The next floor was... empty. It was an empty... space, with the only notable features the walls that marked it as a place rather than as a no-place, and the endless sky above them. Here and there were hints of things having once been here. Scorch marks on the ground, the smell of blood still lingering in the air, but aside from that, it was empty. Truly empty.

No one was here to greet them, and even if they where they wouldn't have said this. Would they?


"Oh, its you. Like, well done on getting this far and junk, yeah. I must say I am super surprised. Not like, impressed, mind you. It was probably mostly luck anyway. Or, or was it Gumption? Yeah. Do you have that? How does that feel?
Are you really Proud of yourselves, or are you filled with Shame now? Would you like a pat on the back, or an explination? Would you like to go home with your accomplishments?
Would you like to continue? There are more trials ahead you know, much more to do before you may claim your Hearts Desire. All the same; would you like a treasure?
What if i told you you could only ever have one of the above. Would you believe me? If you didn't, what would you say? If you did, what would you do?
When you are done thinking it over, give me a call, I'm never around. Until then, have fun with all this nothing. It's pretty boring. I should know."

[Congratulations and welcome to the Fifth Floor! Any shames you earned on the last floor are kept. They will continue to interfere with pretty much anything you do. Rolls are no longer subject to reversals. Good luck!
Sky-Irk is Lost for now, but if Shadowglass returns she might pop in again, who knows!]


--

Elsewhere
[Marius]
At your wits end, the connection to Emille finally re-establishes itself. For a year you feared the worst, but then the noises started. Incessant, you first believed it tinnitus.
You could not believe your misfortune, that after all these years and after all you have suffered, to go deaf in the peak of your old age. But the sound was too inconsistant, and you were growing younger by the day.
Ten years have come and gone, most of them in the blink of an eye. You don't remember most of it, but clearly you must have done something. Gone are (some) of the aches and pains of yesteryear.
Gone are (some of the many, many) wrinkles that you had come to know. You feel as spry as a fivehundredthousandyearold, you feel as if you could party like it was 499.999.
To be fair, it is still pretty terrible, but atleast that annoying sound is gone. It was Emille saying 'What happned? Where did you go?" stretched out over ten years. Perhaps you should have told her to wait a bit before contacting you.
But then again, hindsight is 20/20.

Marius loses 1d6 of his 2d6 wound. Emille regains one HP and loses one sanity and is otherwise unaffected.

--

WereGoat
Apr 28, 2017




Cat
Initiative: 24
Dominion: 2>0

AI action: Claim things as your own. If it is unsafe, stalk from the shadows.
HP: 9/10 (1/1HP, 8/9 lives)
Skills: Feline instincts 5D6, Haughty disdain 3D6
Powers: Stalking 2D6
Defences: Cat reflexes 5D6
Vanilla Talent: I meant to do that.


Cat stood upon the game board. The playing pieces were moved to the sides, away from her claws. How dull. And where are those prey animals she sensed? Seeing a mouse shaped counter, she moved to...



Hmf. Did they think she was so foolish? She had tried this before, tempting Cat with fluffy things. Well Cat was just going to ignore *boop*. To ignore *boop*. Being booped on the nose by the stuffed elephant made it harder to ignore, it was clear, play with the elephant or be booped off the table.

Well cat wasnt being treated like this. Cat slunk away off the table, disinterested.

And then launched at the unexpecting elephant toy, catching it's holder unawares! It was a trick! She knocked away some tokens someone had lain beside her in the leap, unimportant trinkets, and pounced!

rolls posted:

Feline instincts to boost stalking: 5d6-2d6 12
Stalk the elephant toy, catch it unawares!: 5d6+2d6+2d6 30
Spending all domain on mammoth assault

---

Katte circled the mammoth, flinching from the beast's tusks, bowing to it's power. Cowed, it was driven off. Mammoth stood triumphant.

Was Katte driven off, though?

Katte's domain is below, and below is unseen. As Mammoth calls out it's triumph, below looks up from beneath it. The ground beneath Mammoth is rent asunder, as Katte's claws reach into it's soft belly. Pulling the beast down, tearing at it's flesh, this was not glorious godly combat, this was wholely ungodly. Katte abandoned below, dragging the mammoth beneath, abandoning the rent beast to it's doom.

But mammoth, a godly beast, fought back. As Katte's rending claws sliced from below, mammoths great weight crushed from above. As Katte dragged mammoth beneath, mammoth gouged with it's tusks. And as Katte abandoned below, Mammoth held fast to above.

Which beast would prevail?

WereGoat fucked around with this message at Dec 19, 2017 around 12:43

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

Please... Don't read this post where other people can see...

[quote="The Lord of Hats" post="478066564"]
Stefania, Queen of the Curse Imps

Initiative: 16
HP: 10
Skills: Imptourage [4d6], Penumbral Sorcery [2d6] Powers:Hellfire [4d6]; Defense: Demonic Destiny [5d6]
Talent:Available
Items:None
AI: Solve tasks with imps, if someone tries to hurt her or a friend, use Talent to flip that.


Stefania frowned as the pit failed to ignite properly, and then again as her imps and Nezera's goblins started fighting. They were supposed to be friends, not enemies! Although, strong friendships in the past had started by the two parties first beating the crap out of each other. Maybe they were just taking that approach? Although... it didn't look like the Scorchers were actually capable of talking to the goblins. Or even making proper expressions, really. Maybe that was the problem!

"Sorry, didn't mean for that to happen," she said in response to the vampire. "Let me see what I can do..."

The Scorchers didn't have much in the way of shadows, what with the faint glow they always carried around, but Stefania reached out and did what she could to put it under their control, letting them shape their shadows into faces and symbols. Hopefully that would make communication a lot easier.

Penumbral Sorcery: 2d6 8

And while she was at it, they were a little puny, weren't they? It looked like the goblins were already getting up to mushroom farming, but you needed meat for a really balanced diet. Good thing there were those mammoths nearby! Stefania stuck her tongue out as she focused on the knobs, channeling hellfire into the Scorchers to try and beef them up a bit. They were kind of made of fire, right? More fire would clearly make them grow big and strong. Yeah, that made sense!

"Alright you guys, I want you to use this to go get meat. Not goblin meat! Specifically not goblin meat, okay? You and the goblins should be friends, not foes! Now go out there and roast some mammoth to share with your new buddies!"

Fill Them With Hellfire (In a Good Way!): 4d6+1d6 11 ((used dominion on that. Blargh what a bad roll))

Huh. Maybe that could have gone better. She turned back to Nezera "I'm up for any partnership you want to run!"

Theantero
Nov 6, 2011

...they shall march out of my laboratory and sweep away every adversary, every creed, every nation, until the very planet is in the loving grip of the Pax Bisonica. And then peace will reign, and the world, and all humanity, shall bow to me in humble gratitude...

Cepi Yu, Proud Knightcerer of the Warped Table

Initiative: 17
HP: 10
Skills: Glitchweaving [5d6], Proud Knightcerer [2d6] Powers: Spear of Corruption [3d6]; Defense: Shield of Lag [5d6]
Talent: Spent
Items:
AI: Be suitably knightly, try not to die.



Cepi huffed and puffed as she yelled her imperious, chivalrous screeds for all the glitchies to hear. She told them all about the table, and how it was a world of lies. She told them all about how it was an evil world, created for the capricious amusements of cruel individuals. She told them all about how these new quakes, the tears appearing across the skies, were their only chance at salvation and escape.

She told them how the only righteous and knightcererly thing to do was to evacuate all the peoples within, and then destroy the table for all times.

But then she took a look at her people. The glitchies.

They had barely understood her. They were starving, without shelter, without hope, weak and desolate. How would she save all the peoples of the Table, if she could not even save her own?

Cepi scrunched up her brow in deep thought.

Something was wrong here.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

She tapped on her chin a bit.

Ah!

Of course.

There was an error in the fundamentals. Some fool had listed the Glitchies as a variable to be saved from this cruel world, that is why they were so weak and pathetic, and not at all like they were meant to be.

No, the glitchies were not meant to be saved from this world. They were meant to be its salvation.

Swedish Thaumocracy posted:

The Glitchies are a type zero civilisation

Rewriting the matrix to turn the entire narrative here on its head: 1d4= 4 SUCCESS!

Swedish Thaumocracy posted:

The Glitchies are a type hero civilisation

Cepi nodded to herself. All was it should be.

Now all that remained was to take this War to the table itself. Her people would be free. Everyone here would be free. She would see to it. On knightcerer's honor.

Glitchweaving with 1 point of Dominion to glitch and corrupt the MagiTech wards to help out the Glitchies save everyone from this fell realm: 6d6= 22

paper bag with a face
Jun 2, 2007
Fighting poverty...one bum at a time.

Emille

HP: 4/10
Initiative: 10
Defense: Parry[3d6]
Pyromancy [3d6], Acrobatics [2d6], Adventuring Knowhow [1d6]
Ignite/Quench [3d6], Radiance [2d6], Arquebus [1d6]
The Master's Mark (chocolate): [spent/unspent
Items: +1 Ring (+1 to a single action every turn), Miniature Planet (Plop a full sized planet somewhere)
Prides: Proud of Being Mentored
Shame: Pointlessness [1d6]

Emille's eyelid twitched. She was covered in frost, yet her thoughts burned. She was out of the blasted stairwell, so hopefully Marius was back. She looked down and saw his plate-clad form standing beneath her. Wait. Where was her's? She gave an experimental wave, with no apparent results. That's... probably not good. "Marius!", she hissed, "What the hell happened?"

"Ah! Emille! You're okay! I saw you get transposed somewhere and I assumed the worst! Before we get into that, I have a question of immediate concern: do you look or feel any older?"

Emille gave herself a quick once over. Everything was more or less the same as before Marius's...thing, perhaps even slightly better. Did she always have those bags under her eyes? Ugh, it felt like it had been so long since she had any sleep. Not that she felt tired in the slightest. All she could muster was a quiet "No."

"Thank the Gods. I'll get back to that. I can tell you are not well so I shall try to keep it brief. My leading hypothesis is that the Dungeon caught me trying to bring in something from Outside and, for lack of a better word, reacted. I tried to skirt the "No Outside objects" rule by trying to bring in something intangible. It was reckless and foolish and I am sorry. As a result of this, it seems both of us have gone through some strangeness. Would you like to talk about it?"

Emille nodded and replied, "Um, yes. I think." She described her experience as best she was able. At first she felt as if she was falling, but there were no points of reference so who can say for sure. She could feel the place sapping her energy as it assaulted her with still, crushing cold. Overall just another day for an adventurer. Things were tolerable until she began doing midair flips and tumbles to find something, anything. It was then she noticed where she was had far more than up, down, left, right, forward and backwards. And the shapes in those directions! THE SHAPES! Distant and impossibly large, she felt she had no choice but to stare into the *in* and the *out* and the *through* for at any moment one of them could be coming/going. And so it went on and on and on until something reached(?) *through* her but not. Next thing she knew, she was standing on the stairs.

Marius listened patiently, and waited for Emille to finish. "Take a deep breath. From the sound of it, you fell into the Void and your mind wasn't properly equipped to deal with its dimensional...quirks. Your mind and senses, which is used to parsing 3-dimensional space, got suddenly plunged into the variable-dimensional space of the Shadow Plane, in the Void no less."

"You should be fine, your mind just needs some time to recover and assemble the mess into something that makes sense. You're either incredibly lucky or far more resilient that I believed you to be; most people would've had their brains cook in their skulls or just plain go raving mad. There is a very good reason it takes years and years just to become a neophyte in Noctomancy. Fortunately, I know a few ways to smooth things out."

The Mark of Marius: 1d4 = 1

"I just have to find your shadow first. Where the hell is the damned thing?"

"M-master Marius, how worried should I be that it's gone?", Emille asked, obviously nervous.

"It is certainly not good. Somehow it got untethered and it's lost somewhere. While it's untethered from you, it's vulnerable and whatever happens to it will eventually echo back to you. Like affects like. Well, technically. I've found in practice the local flora and fauna give anything associated with me a wide berth, so you should be alright on that front. Either way, until I find it, I'll have to resort to more mundane methods to help you sort things out. Hmm, you wouldn't happen to be able *feel* it, would you?"

Emille gave a half hearted shrug, "I don't think so? Why would I?"

"I was hoping your trip into the Void might've Endarkened you and made you *aware* of it. It's theoretically possible in the same way you can teach a child to swim by throwing them into the deep end of a pool. If you were *aware*, I could teach you a ritual of recall to shunt it back to you. Are you sure you can't feel it? Most newly *aware* start off by rationalizing it as sort of weight under their feet."

Emille took a deep breath and focused her mind on the ground beneath her. Nothing. "I am sure."

"drat. Be back in a bit. I need to go get some relevant literature from my archives. DO NOT look at anything more complicated than a tesseract.

Emille watched as Marius's shadow flitted away to Gods-know-where. She sat down and tried to ignore the burning, pounding sensation in her skull. Perhaps she'd be more receptive to whatever he was going to do if she were in better spirits? Even before The Incident, she wasn't feeling great, and she was still a little chilly besides. She mentally fanned her inner flame and performed a series of ignitions Marius taught her for when things feel bleak.

Pyromancy to heal up: 3d6+1 + 1d6 = 15 + 1

She felt like laying down for a little bit. Before she did, she quietly replied to the Lady, "I wish to continue. I have lost something in here and I can't leave until I get it back."

LORE TOKEN: I would like to use my lore token to find out more about this floor

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!

Grimey Drawer

Molriir Hearthstone
HP: 8/10
Initiative: 7
Skills: Educated Dwarf [3d6], Hearthstone [4d6].
Power: *Superior Quality Repeating Crossbow* [3d6]
Defense: Unbelievably Stubborn [5d6]
Shame: Hopelessness, Socially Awkward.
Inventory: Backpack o' stuff (delicious rations, oil, rum, etc.), Hearthstone Shield (+1d6 to a Defense against physical dangers - any nearby stone receives increased durability and tensile strength), Einskis Cipher (solves nothing).



As cloud turned to brick turned to stair Molriir had begun to sway like a drunk unsteady on his feet. When Emille appeared out of nowhere, he'd given her a shocked smile and a nod, his beard longer and wilder than she could remember - but his expression was sane and determined despite his enacting the stagger of a falling-down drunk, clinging to his shield like a drowning sailor clung to a piece of driftwood in a storm. When finally the two of them had crossed the threshold of the simple stone door, the dwarf's relief was palpable.

"Huargh. I donnae ken how ye manage out there... Emille, was it nae? It's like I've drank o' Bevra's Bitter Brew fer a decade straight. Me head's jest nae made fer circlin' a maelstrom's drain while havin' th' hangover o' yer nightmares," complained the dwarf, though clearly he seemed undaunted by whatever harrowing force was having an impact upon him. "Good t' see ye made it, though. Me apologies for me rudeness and fer leavin' ye behind - atch, I'm truly sorry fer that. I jest did nae know wha' else t' do but carry on. Did th' Duchess...? Or anyone else...?" he looked around, and seemed disappointed to realize there were just the two of them here.

As they were greeted by not much, and nobody at all, the dwarf's eyes glittered as he listened to the torrential lack of questions. These words that did not exist, from this woman who could not be... the voice that hadn't beckoned him into her Dungeon.

"Ice and bloody hells, Lady! Am I proud? Aye! Nae! I am a mess, is what I am, in truth," responded the dwarf to the wave of questions that were not asked... and then he paused, taking a deep breath, calming down, and fixing his vision to a spot in the near distance. It felt strange to address something that was not. Time to fix that.

He would use the Einskis Cipher, honed by his long trek's deep reflection, to make sense of this nothing nonsense. The Lady that was not and spoke not and could not be - by the very absence of her presence did she leave a mark to which the Cipher was the perfect decryptor. Molriir could peel down those layers of naught, guessing at the shape of the something that perhaps could have been, at the someone that might have said what just now hadn't been asked. A logical extension of the echo of a might-have-been, constructed from nothing, thanks to nothing - and the Cipher. Molriir's best guess at the Lady's self might as well be truth for as close as it could get him, compared to the nothing that was, at least.

"'tis only the work o' me wit's razor, but I may have th' shape o' ye soon. That ought make it clearer on us, or them what comes after, what yer about. As fer me, all I want is fer this mess t' be resolved and th' holes in me poor auld world filled in - this ye ought know already, having put one on me home. Me shames are burnin', but I'll persevere, I'll continue down this path ye've laid in challenge - t' nae would be th' far greater shame. Ye'll nae wipe th' clan o' Marnavir off th' map so easily, ye ken."

paper bag with a face posted:

She felt like laying down for a little bit. Before she did, she quietly replied to the Lady, "I wish to continue. I have lost something in here and I can't leave until I get it back."

"Did ye now?" queried the dwarf, a frown on his face, a dangerous undertone in his voice. "Ye ought take more care o' yerself - ye humans tend towards th' fragile, despite yer strengths." He nudged Emille - she was indeed looking a bit wan, and she kept staring down at the ground and then around at the sad ruins surrounding them - like she knew something he did not. Clearly she'd had her own harrowing journey. Molriir's gaze softened. She was as doomed as he, having been drawn into this place, but that did not mean he'd have to make things harder on her.

"Erm... it looks like ye still have stuff of yer own, but, ah... yer welcome t' take o' me supplies and make use o' me tents once I've pitched camp. This seems as fine a place as any we've come across t' do so, anyway," he offered, awkwardly, unhitching his pack.

He rummaged through the backpack, retrieving a bundle of canvas from which he withdrew a bedroll and some logs of wood. The wood went into a pile and the dwarf arrayed a few broken stones into a circle around them. Not long after, a campfire began to blaze and crackle merrily - the wood taking well to the flames - and two tents were swiftly erected from the canvas. The dwarf was clearly an experienced traveller - and his pack seemed to have a depth to it that bordered on the unreasonable.

"Afore we move on, will ye share me camp? I invite ye both. Free o' charge or obligation, sit, eat, talk, if ye care, or nae, if ye don't. Whate'er chains or burdens ye - if ye long fer a moment's reprieve from weariness or doldrums, then sit as I make a meal o' me finest provisions - they'll nae last much longer, anyway. I've tales and songs and other things besides. Ye e'er tried rum o' th' Nellies? It'll warm ye, it will, e'en in such a desolate place."

[4d6] Hearthstone - [2d6] Shames to buff Pyromancy with offer of warmth: 9 vs 13
[4d6] Hearthstone - [2d6] Shames to buff Pyromancy with offer of liquour: -2 vs 8



Molriir uses the Einskis Cipher to whittle at the edges of the Lady's nothing to reveal... something?

His attempts to aid Emille's recovery comes across as half-hearted.

He does, however, use Backpack o' Stuff to pitch a Base Camp in the Halls of Sorrow. He intends to rest here for the next turn, and invites Emille (and the Lady) to do the same.

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.


[Wilma]

HP: 4/10

Look at them go! She wasn't great at this whole gaming thing - frigg, her nephews'd kept badgering her about that... and she guessed she'd never see them again so she tried to think of a something else - but it was pretty cool to watch all the little guys. It all seemed so life and death to them, even though they were just fake little things. Look, fake little ghosts too! Ha ha! She hammered more random buttons, hoping that her score would get higher. Pew pew, Goblins!
Pew pew, ghosts! Yeah, sure, she was the God of the Dead, like a mummy or some poo poo. Boris Karloff-style - or wait, was he a Frankenstein? Wait, he was in both, right? Tap tap tap.
She giggled girlishly, stress forgotten or at least mislaid for the moment thanks to the marvelous device before her!

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006
Jinat Ulukaï, hâ oagé.

Wave 3
Floor 2

The War Room / Trial of Distraction


Orbrise bathed Table in a warm orange glow, all the way from Interesting Mountain to The Great Glitchwood Tree, indeed from Leftside to Rightside, granting Day to all that lay below.
The High Gods in their Heavenly Realm rolled their metaphorical and also very real dice; and history stirred.

On wasteland steppes did the Mammoth roam; a great and terrible beast. Its territory had been challenged by some upstart Pretender, this Katte, and so it bellowed its challenge tootingly for all to hear.


"Begone, oh beast of darkness! Return thee to the void!"

Katte hissed and snarled and fell back into the shadows, afeared of mighty tusks and powerful paws.
But Lo, the High God Cat did Scheme, and when the Mammoth was most boastful in its triumph, thence did Cat pull the rug from under him most murderously.
The Titanic Pacoderm cried out in startled shame; its foothold lost as the very world crumbled into a lake of fire as Katte, the Predator erupted from the realm Below.
To the Peoples of Table, the ensuing battle was abrupt, vicious and calamitous, with collateral damage unheard of in this Cycle. An Epic for the ages, no doubt.

For the High Gods? It was adorable.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FeHVrPK7VPU

Buff Stalking = Success!
Stalking the Elephant 30 vs The Mammoth: = 20 = Success! For mechanics: see the end of the post.


--

Profania, the Queen of Embers reached out to her scorchers, teaching them to mould their shadows this way and that, that they in so doing could emote their intents to the world around them.
They chittered and crackled and the light they emitted bent in unnatural ways, and Profania could see that it was good.



Now that they could communicate, she bade them make peace with the goblins, that they together could go out and fight Mammoths spawn.


Penumbral Sorcery: 8 vs Type 0 Civilsation: 5 = Success! Your Civ advances one tech level! - More on that later, see end of post.
Fill them with Fire: 11 vs Type 0 Civilsation: 1d6 4 = Succes! One primitive army created! - More on that later, see end of post.


--

Lumos, the Painter, whose essence suffused the moon, she who cured the ravaged world of its ailments, took pity on the lulled Armies of Prey. In plentiful infographics was measured the pace of their hearts, the flow of adrenaline.
In their deepest dreams did she uncover the truth of their bestial fury. They lived in constant fear of the Cataclysm. Of the Fury of the Low Heavens, of the antagonists at Interesting Mountain.
They would do anything to get away from it, but could not, and so were reduced to pillage and murder, anything to stave of the terror, to live another day.



By her Mercy were their fears assailed; she would care for an protect them. The all too traumatized she would hold in her embrace forevermore, whilst the rest might seek solace in her Light.
The Armies of Prey dropped on their knees, singing her praise - all hail The One of Dreams, The Light of Hope, she who cares for us most troubled!

Enchanting: Buffing Inner Fire onto Curative Magic: 5d6-4d6 5 - Success!
Chrono-Curative Alteration: Healing with Inner Fire on Three Armies of Prey: 9d6 38 (38/3 = 12.667 / Target) / 6 = 2 health restored per target = Success! - More on that later, see end of post.


--

Nezzesary, The Ravenous One, hungered not only for the blood of the innocent (and, lets face it, the guilty as well) but was also the hunger of her people.
She felt their pain as readily as her own (or so it was said) and she craved that she and they be sated with... mushrooms.

The goblins took to her command with fervor, for the delectable fungi of the mountains were rich in all that a starved goblin might enjoy should it also enjoy to live.
Primitive pickaxes struck hard stone, and soon the largest surface caves were breached, their contents ripe for harvesting.



But what to do with all the stone they had gathered? It wouldn't do to simply let it go to waste.
No, the Ravenous One taught her goblin-children about huts and abodes; but her words triggered their ancestral memories, and they sought out the halls of olde, securing for themselves the ruins of their precursors, restoring them to Her glory.




Action one: Charming Gaze vs Goblins: 11 vs Type 0 Civilzation: 1d6 5 = Success! - More on that later, see end of post.
Action two: Charming Gaze vs Goblins: 9 vs Type 0 Civilzation: 1d6 2 = Success! Overskill! - More on that later, see end of post.


--

Whylma, the dearly departed was an engima to the peoples of Table. Wherever her influence was felt, it came with no discernible malice nor mercy - it simply was, and what it was, was Chaos.



The Chaoslands, as they came to be known, where the epicenter of her madness. A place where normal rules did not always apply, a place were monsters came from.
The peoples of Table avoided it as best they could, life was fraught enough with danger as it was.


Gambling 10, 10 vs Warded MagiTek Wartable: 2#4d6 17 13 = Failure? - More on this, later, see end of post.


--



The splendor of the Glitchwood for a moment outshone even Orb, the wild sourcecodery of that place spreading far and wide and lifting the veil of secrecy that had for cycles surrounded the woods.
In its centre, the massive Glitchwood Tree stood, an axis mundi with roots reaching far below and canopy clipping heedlessly into the sky, such that even the High Gods felt tickled by its many branches.
Far underneath those lofty branched, the Heroic Glitchie Society thrived. With groves of self-tending Hackples and recursive goldfarms, they wanted for nothing save the the promise of their God.
From their Capital City of OP- nestled in the embrace of the great Glitchwood Tree, their gleaming golden armies strode forth to save and conquer.

None could withstand their might, not at the height of their Golden Age!



[spoiler] Talent Success! Glitchweaving 6d6: 22 vs Talent Success! = Success! More on that later, see end of post!]

--

[Everyone]



When Orb once more dims; nothing is the same. The Glitchwood has greatly expanded, there is a hole to Beneath where Mammoth used to roam and the Chaoslands have rent the middle into, well, chaos.

[Cepi-Yu and The Glitchies of Glitchwood]
Are a type Hero civilization.
Have a shelter rating of ten, allowing ten units of population to be settled there without worry of attack from roaming monsters or natural environmental effects.
Are completely self-sustaining, requiring neither food, nor wealth or resources for anything other than special projects.
Have a total population of two.
Have a total growth rate of one.
As food stores are effectively infinite, population growth may continue unabated. The Glitchies will never risk starvation, unless their food production sites are razed to the ground.

The Great Glitchwood Tree is a Wonder of the World, and can be used to uplift however many units of population you desire, that you have access too, effectively taking them out of the game.
Should you at this point decide to uplift your whole civilization, no further actions may be taken on that cycle.
In addition to all of this, the Great Glitchwood Tree grants you a permanent one dominion per cycle, as your population is naturally uplifted by its presence.

For advancing to a type Hero civilization, your Dominion increases by ten points.

You have two standing, Hero Tier Armies, ready to obey your every command. They are flight capable and have access to the latest in Glitchie technology, which for some strange reason is rather limited.

The Glitchies worship you exclusively, and ask that you bless their nation with a flag. Fill it in at your leisure, or don't.



--

[The Goblins and Scorchers of the Unified Territory]
Have a total population of one and one.
Are a type 1 civilization - essentially neolithic farmers.
Have one primitive mushroom farm, producing one unit of food per cycle.
Have no wealth or resources to speak off.
Have a shelter rating of four, allowing four units of population to be sheltered there without worry of attack from roaming monsters or natural environmental effects.
Have one standing, tier 1 army. What they make up for in gumption they lack in gear. They are currently set to harvest wild animals for food, producing one unit of food per cycle in exchange for not being available for guard duty.
Have access to the Pit of Doom, a special site that generates one Scorcher population per cycle.

As they have two units of food spread out across two units of population, the Scorchers neither starve nor grow.
However, as the Pit of Doom increases population Growth to One regardless of circumstance, they are forced into starvation anyway, eliminating one unit of population for no real net-change.
They do not face extinction, merely stagnation, but that would be easily solved with some proper agriculture.
You may not raise your civilization to tier two until you secure at least one resource and one wealth site.

As your combined peoples have advanced to a type one Civilization, your peoples require your aesthetic guidance. Help them or not at your own leisure, by filling out this flag and giving their new nation a name.
In either case, your dominion scores both increase by one.



--

[Cat]
Word spreads of your mighty deed! You gain one dominion. In addition, your territory has expanded, though it is currently empty save for Katte, your avatar.
It contains the special site 'Mounds of Mammoth Flesh' a permanent +2 units of food per cycle food source! This bonus will expand should anyone choose to properly cultivate it.

--

[Wilma]
Word spreads of your... deeds? But no one really cares, except to know that they should avoid you. Your territory expands, but no one wants to live there except monsters.
However, those monsters are thriving, and some of them even turn to you in worship! You gain no dominion, but you may attempt to command their forces, should you so desire!

--

[Monsters & Night-time Attacks]
With the Armies of Prey disbanded, there are too few monsters to really pose a threat to the Peoples of table, for this cycle. Trouble however, brews in the Chaoslands.
What fell beasts might erupt from there, lest anything be done about its nuisance? And what of Interesting Mountain? What roll does that ravaged peak play in all of this? Find out, next time on: Lady of the Dungeon!

--

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.


[Wilma]

HP: 4/10

Oh wow, look at that! Did she do that? Look at that crazy jumble in the middle there! Her sister woulda loved that - like abstract art or something. She felt some insistent something coming from the table, almost like tiny ghosts scrabbling for her attention. Monsters were... praying to her? That didn't seem right? Weren't monsters, like, just evil things? The thought that they thought of her as some kind of deity made her feel... uncomfortable. She wasn't a bad guy, but monsters were bad. It's right in the name: Monster! That's not good! She held a control knob and focused on the chaos beasts, willing a great storm to wipe them out. Die, monsters! Stop grossing up her beautiful land!She watched with satisfaction as a great wind picked up, and hoped that it would be enough to wipe them out. Disgusting things. Like roaches in her townhouse. Her old townhouse, she guessed, because she was never getting out of this place. She started to sniffle, then a great teardrop fell onto her control board. A light rain picked up in the world below.
She sucked it up, because if there was a way out of here she knew she'd have to be tough. No one else was crying, right? A ghostly hand wicked away the tears on her face, and she swatted at it, the back of her fingers brushing through a thin membrane of ectoplasm. Damned ghosts. It was their fault she was in this mess. They kept telling her to move on, not to linger, but screw them, she was happy right where she was. She watched the Glitchies flourish in front of her with interest and not a little jealousy. Clearly they'd played this game(?) before, because they were, like, way better at it! And the player kinda looked like the little guys, too. Weird!

WereGoat
Apr 28, 2017




Cat
Initiative: 24
Dominion: 1≥0

AI action: Claim things as your own. If it is unsafe, stalk from the shadows.
HP: 9/10 (1/1HP, 8/9 lives)
Skills: Feline instincts 5D6, Haughty disdain 3D6
Powers: Stalking 2D6
Defences: Cat reflexes 5D6
Vanilla Talent: I meant to do that.

Well, the elephant toy was stuffed full of treats. Cat might look down on those who would try and so foolishly trick her, but she was also hungry.

Feast on treats!: 5d6 15

The things that smelled of prey were nearby though. Cat wandered up lazily, and sat across the border into the multi coloured mess near the centre of the table, knocking over another token. It was a little warmer here.

Snatching a furry counter that was being moved away from her, she batted it aside, then let it go. A paw darted out again, snaring another. She played with it, clawing it lightly, before letting it slide away. She was full, content, these "prey" were less than nothing to her now. She blinked at them in disinterest.

Show disdain for prey: 4d6 14

WereGoat fucked around with this message at Jan 5, 2018 around 17:31

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006
Jinat Ulukaï, hâ oagé.

[Wave 1-2]
Floor 5 – Halls of Sorrow




The hall was as quiet as a village market after seven p.m.; when everybody who was supposed to be there had left and those who shouldn't hadn't quiet gotten around to it yet.
The only real noise was came from the dwarf tinkering with his camp, but it was an efficient sort of noise. It's pattern made it almost relaxing.

Emille joined the dwarf, for there was nothing else to do besides to wait. She sat in quiet contemplation over the words of her mentor and the lingering hopelessness of the Path - she doubted she would ever truly get away from it, even if pointless cribbage had been ample distraction at the time.

Pyromancy to heal up: 3d6+1 + 1d6 = 15 + 1 + (Pointless Mentorship: 1d6-1d6 0 ) = 16 / 6 = 2!
(You regain two points of health, although your total health maximum decreases by 2. These can overlap.)


She let her focus go for a moment and the flame within burned brighter than ever before, she felt her wounds closing, and at remarkable speed at that, far quicker than any attempt at healing she had ever performed. At the same time, she could feel her fuel spent. Not mana, per say, the every day stuff of the adventuring sorcerer, but something more personal. She had never considered it before, but her inner flame was constant, and the aetherial flow of this place was unreliable at best. She had been burning herself.

Marius found that he had a hard time getting out. With Emilies shadow gone, his own had grown rather attached to her, and though it could stretch and bend and flow to its real masters content, it could not actually detach entirely. Always some strand of it remained. For now he dared not sever the connection, either out of concern for Emille's failing health or for him own and so he mumbled some arcanobabble and resolved to truly observe their prison, if that was to be the way of things.

It was empty. At least at first glance. But it was also familiar. The flooring felt familiar under his shadowy foot. Marius had no doubt that he, the old him, Vahl, had traced these steps before, that this dungeon must against all logic be the remains of the Tower lost to time. He considered his ancient memory, cursing his chains for not allowing him back to his body to reach for his archives, his tomes of knowledge and the treasure he had inherited from his old... self and friend back when he was HYDRA.

Then it hit him. This was where it all began. The hall took shape around him in his mind, dust rising into ancient pillars, the signs of battle playing out before him in reverse. There, he had stood, there he had risen. There, he had perished.
Gollor, his old apprentice, sacrificing it all for his masters return, for his rivals disgrace. It hadn't worked, of course. Wright had -somehow- avoided the worst of the trap they had set for him, like he always did.
The old Vahl had been defeated in the end, and Carl and Dammerung with him. But then they hadn't been.

By whatever Mercy or Malice had driven them, the remaining Topseekers had ascended and in so doing rewrought what was undone - ending the old Lord and his reign, erasing even his memory. He shook himself out of his reverie, mouthing the truth of this place.


"The Hall of...



Mjolriir flew to the floor, beard on fire and his heavy armour scorched as the chiper he had been puzzling over resolved itself and broke reality asunder - he existed only in shards of mirrored glass, in parts or whole depending on the angle, in multitudes and in singulars though all mimicking his movements, his thoughts, all sharing his flaws. He looked to Emille and saw her likewise, an infinity of shadowless women staring at the fire, with tears in their eyes. Wait, not all of them. One still had its shadow. Or a shadow, at least. One unique in all of creation. He nodded to himself and swam towards her, as much as such a thing made any sense at all.



He retched. He had heard himself scream, saw one of his shards tumble and fall - as much as direction made any sense - saw a man with many arms impale him on some gruesome, hand-held drill.

Unknown Presence uses The Drill That Pierces the Heavens: 2#4d6 20, 16 vs Mjolriir: Unbelievably Stubborn: 5d6 22, Unbelievably Stubborn: 5d6 12 = Failure! Success! Mjolriir takes 1 damage!

Saw that same shape appear in other shards. In the woman's shards as well. Saw himself fighting. Looked behind himself and saw the man pursuing. Shared through his own million eyes, watched nigh-helplessly at the hunter come to take its prey. He all screamed. What Mjolriir thought of as his prime, he, it, swam faster. He could not fight without stable ground beneath him and he found no purchase in the Void. His other selves would have to make do for now. One thing at a time.




--





And then; just when he felt it couldn't get any worse, he saw her. Behind the glass that was everything. A being present nowhere, only just now revealed through his use of the chiper. The Lady.


"Ugh, you broke the floor! That's like, totally inconvenient for me."

...

"If you wanted to talk to me; you could just have asked!"

...

"Sigh."

...

"Like, try not to do anything more rash, if that is even possible, until I sort this out?"

...

"And you'll have to deal with that thing on your own. That's all on you."

---

[Mjolriir, Emille, Marius]
Your many-and-one-selves find yourselves outnumbered by a thing that is also many and one. It fights you across all known shards; in victory shattering them and in defeat... well, you have yet to defeat it.
It comes for you, calmly stating its challenge.


"Neither rain or snow, nor emptiness of void, no worldly apocalypse or the slow and silent death of stars, no prophecy, no interloper, no war of gods, no ancient slumber, nor bureaucracy, not angel, demon, nor creatures great and small regardless of morality, no living being, undead or in-betwixt, no adverse condition, no corruption nor concept or lack thereof, shall keep this Tower Repair Services, Repair Services Drone from completing it's designated task of repairing the Tower and restoring what was lost. You have been judged detrimental to this purpose. An anomaly that shall be corrected."

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!

Grimey Drawer

Molriir Hearthstone
HP: 7/10
Initiative: 7
Skills: Educated Dwarf [3d6], Hearthstone [4d6].
Power: *Superior Quality Repeating Crossbow* [3d6]
Defense: Unbelievably Stubborn [5d6]
Shame: Hopelessness, Socially Awkward.
Inventory: Backpack o' stuff (delicious rations, oil, rum, etc.), Hearthstone Shield (+1d6 to a Defense against physical dangers - any nearby stone receives increased durability and tensile strength), Einskis Cipher (solves nothing).



"Aha! I think I might 'ave i-"



Swedish Thaumocracy posted:

Mjolriir flew to the floor, beard on fire and his heavy armour scorched as the chiper he had been puzzling over resolved itself and broke reality asunder - he existed only in shards of mirrored glass, in parts or whole depending on the angle, in multitudes and in singulars though all mimicking his movements, his thoughts, all sharing his flaws. He looked to Emille and saw her likewise, an infinity of shadowless women staring at the fire, with tears in their eyes. Wait, not all of them. One still had its shadow. Or a shadow, at least. One unique in all of creation. He nodded to himself and swam towards her, as much as such a thing made any sense at all.



He retched. He had heard himself scream, saw one of his shards tumble and fall - as much as direction made any sense - saw a man with many arms impale him on some gruesome, hand-held drill.

First roll w/shames and Hearthstone Shield: 22+1d6-2d6 21 vs 20
Second roll w/shames and Hearthstone Shield: 12+3-5 10 vs 16 -1 HP


Molriirs brought their shields to bear. It held for some, but for others the force of the drill knocked it free from their grip - and painfully, helplessly, Molriir watched as parts of himself were pierced through and cracked to nothingness. They patted at their smoldering beards, and 'swam' like the hells were tailing them.

Swedish Thaumocracy posted:


And then; just when he felt it couldn't get any worse, he saw her. Behind the glass that was everything. A being present nowhere, only just now revealed through his use of the chiper. The Lady.


"Ugh, you broke the floor! That's like, totally inconvenient for me."

...

"If you wanted to talk to me; you could just have asked!"

...

"Sigh."

...

"Like, try not to do anything more rash, if that is even possible, until I sort this out?"

...

"And you'll have to deal with that thing on your own. That's all on you."

Even as he was being chased by the manic repairman and chided by the Lady, he made sure to give the former non-entity a good look-over. He'd SEEN her now, with his own two eyes, and knew she had put herself outside - in this empty Void-space. Why such obfuscation, when she clearly had form and shape? Was this Her, in truth? The Lady's appearance and behaviour did not match up to that which he'd once encountered, but Molriir knew better than to put his trust on appearances. The Fallen Legend had not earned her storied existence by being easy to pin down and recognize. The legendary infiltrator had dominated entire societies while entirely unknown and unrecognized to their populace. (That the Orthn could still name and recognize several of her old cover identities had been something of a sore point, he'd learned.)

"Rash? Inconvenient? Look Lady, vanishin' me home by puttin' yer hole there was a bit more than inconvenient happenstance, was it nae?! I'm jest tryin' t' get a fix on things, and if ye were willing t' chat ye could've chimed in when I spoke t' ye earlier!" responded the dwarf, eyeing the multi-armed repairman that was closing in fast from a hundred million directions, hunting a hundred million selves. It was a good thing these facets were also him, or he'd have a hell of a time keeping track of things.

Swedish Thaumocracy posted:

"Neither rain or snow, nor emptiness of void, no worldly apocalypse or the slow and silent death of stars, no prophecy, no interloper, no war of gods, no ancient slumber, nor bureaucracy, not angel, demon, nor creatures great and small regardless of morality, no living being, undead or in-betwixt, no adverse condition, no corruption nor concept or lack thereof, shall keep this Tower Repair Services, Repair Services Drone from completing it's designated task of repairing the Tower and restoring what was lost. You have been judged detrimental to this purpose. An anomaly that shall be corrected."

Molriir face scrunched up and a hundred million dwarves facepalmed.

"Argh! Tower Magi. I ought've suspected - always meddlin' with tha' which they cannae control. 'old on jest a sec, ye blind maniac!"

The hapless Orthn dove into his backpack, withdrawing a a faded piece of parchment from an immaculate jade scrollcase.




He unfurled it, knowing it held a tiny bit of identifying magic, and pointed to a particular line that contained his signature - and a perfunctory job description. A small peal of pride rang through his voice - undeserved though it was - at the existence of this simple slip of parchment. The particular joy of having résumé was, perhaps, unique to his kind.

"I'm Molriir Hearthstone, Tower janitor. I'm nae standin' in yer way fixin' what went wrong. I'm nae continuin' th' thing that lead t' th' Tower's structure bein' imperiled. Yer twiggin' on me due to a unique condition o' racial heritage and th' proper authority will nae doubt be along t' downgrade, bugger and blight me fer me accidental conduct appropriately, so stop wastin' time killin' me so ye can get yer real fix on - unless yer priority is nae fixin' th' Tower, in which case ye might as well be honest about why yer here t' kill me?"

Hail mary Dwarf Educated/w Shames to buff Hearthstone: 3d6-4d6-2d6 -9 failure
Hearthstone/w Shames to encourage fixing REALITY BREAKING ahead of Molriir-murder: 4d6-2d6 11 vs ???


Molriir shrugged, phrasing the last sentence like a question, and readied his shield in case presenting the scroll didn't work out as well as he'd hoped.

Obviously he'd never 'worked' in this Tower (if it was a Tower - it seemed more like the inverse, to Molriir, but he wasn't about to say so to an insane killing machine), and there was no telling if invoking his old 'contract' would actually work, but Authority had been vested in him and the bound demon surely had to be inside the Tower Magis' sphere of influence, given its invocation of their Towers. Even if it wasn't, or it was driven too insane by its bindings (it sounded like it'd had a rough time of it already from all of the Seekers entering the place), he might confuse it by simply agreeing with it and allowing it to do its job as long as that job didn't keep being killing him.

Molriir smiled ruefully and shook his head at the sudden deja vu. The Arch-Magi had been quite apologetic when the magical defenses had gone at him due to 'anomalous miscasts' and had promptly issued the work pass he now held as a quick-and-dirty way to make his stay less lethal. He'd only taken out the trash once - insisting on it more as a formality than anything else - since the Magi had been less interested in his work ethic than in his very being. They'd not seen an Orthn in half an age, and several had delighted in making a study of him while he was there.

Using Backpack o' Stuff to pull out an old Tower Work Pass. There's a faction on Orth called the Tower Magi, and Molriir visited them once. They build Towers to gather and shape the energies required for spellcasting, since it's real hard for normal people to do magic on Orth. At best this'd be some kind of proto-proto-Tower, not anything like the real Tower of old, but Molriir doesn't know that - and neither might the Repair Drone! Anyway, it's just fluff for his argument that a) he belongs and b) he isn't breaking stuff anymore and isn't standing in the way of stuff being fixed, so hop to repairin', Repair Drone - or at least come clean about why you're all bloodthirsty and broken as hell.

Prince of Space
Apr 17, 2016

Your weapons are useless against me!



Name: Vivien Lumière
Initiative: 15
Health: 7/10 HP
Background: Vivien is a high disciple of the Divine Order of the Pristine Depths, a healing-based faith devoted to Morgan Le Fey, the Lady in the Lake and High Enchantress of Arthurian Legend.
AI Actions: Heal allies, Defend weaker creatures, Cure the sick and maimed, Enchant party's weapons and defenses, Eliminate dangers
Skills: Enchantment:5d6, Curative Magic: 4d6 Powers: Holy Smite: 2d6 Defenses: Aegis of Camelot: 4d6 Talent: Prismatic Refraction: Vanilla Max Targets: 3

Vivien looked upon the effects of her works with astonishment and glee apparent on her face. The Armies of Prey, disbanded? How wonderful! That meant that the more civilized races on the board would be safe for now. The scorchers and the little goblin-folk were getting along marvelously, and the glitchie people had suddenly flourished... seemingly overnight (it seems as if some grievous error had been made in their favor)! Even the monsters of the land had a region they could call their own, to roam freely (for now). It was fantastic! If only there was a way to make the world of the board a little warmer, for everyone...

She focused her controls' three reticules on the same location (the dormant volcano in the northeast) and attempted to conjure up her favorite spell for times like these: Mana Wellspring. It tapped into the aqueous nature of her curative magic and turned it into a kind of liquid magical sustenance, good for uplifting the magical potential of humans and beasts alike. She planned to plant this wellspring deep within the heart of the dormant volcano, to feed its fires via magical means into making it magically active. With luck and skill, she could get the whole world heated to a reasonable temperature...

Enchanting: Buffing Mana Wellspring onto Curative Magic: 5d6-4d6 -8 - Failure!

The sigils and glyphs upon the board's controls weren't being conducive to her combining her magics in such a way, it would seem. Undeterred, Vivien proceeded with her next-best plan: creating a sacred site for Glitchie, for Goblin and Scorcher and Monster and Ex-Prey alike. It was a lesser way of heating up the world, certainly, but it could make all the difference to the right people in need.

She cast her watery curative magics upon the volcano tile of the board, hoping to create a magical region of healing hotsprings.

Curative Magic: Healing Hotsprings on the Dormant Volcano: 4d6 18

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010





Countess Nezera Amaris
Initiative 8
HP: 6/10
Skills: Supernatural Movement [3d6], Charming Gaze [3d6]
Powers: Unnatural Strength [5d6]
Defense: Traumatic Regeneration [4d6]
Talent: Impromptu Hors d'oeuvres [Avaliable]
Items: None!
Dominion: 1->2->3(sacrifice)->0
AI: Non-hostile- Charm non-PC targets to do tasks for me. Hostile- Punch the hell out of enemies.


Nezera's nails continue to machine gun tap against the edge of the table and across the arm rest of her chair. Stefania gets a little nod and some encouragement "Well done with that-" she glances to the bizarre little knight's Heroic forces and the pacified monster hordes and her eyebrow raises the smallest fraction higher "-it seems unlikely we'll need a massive army moving forward, but it's always nice to have a militia to keep the rabble in check." Raising a finger to her lips Nezera delves into the knowledge she has garnered over the centuries of ruling experience she's had, but for the vast majority of it to apply the civilization needed to be much more established.

With a little sigh of discontent, she'd come to this mysterious dungeon to get away from the normal drudgery of ruling, Nezera turns her attention onto her subjects and picks out the most sturdy looking one "It's a little degrading to do the work yourself, but subjects that are as backwards as these do require a good deal of effort put in before they'll pay off." Whispering in a long forgotten tongue Nezera reaches out for the goblin's mind and feels something snap unpleasantly under the pressure of her charms, with a murmured curse she pushes on anyway. She'd have liked to have been a bit more subtle in her approach but occasionally brute force was what you needed.

Gesturing toward a pack of Scorchers, Nezera tilts her head toward Stefania "Be a dear and lend me those would you?" Things were going well for the collected forces of the Goblins and Scorchers and in an instant they find themselves stumbling as a whole toward the sacrificial pit, Scorchers being thrown back into the fire from whence they came, their life force being siphoned off into Nezera's insatiable appetite. As the Goblins sit around wondering what was to come next, one of them falls to the ground convulsing as Nezera assumes control of the critter, its frame lengthening unnaturally and musculature warping to the vampire's requirements. As soon as the newly made hobgoblin's form settles, Nezera begins to issue commands that the creature immediately follows with a spark of her own supernatural speed. Nezera's commands are brutal and show no sign of stopping, the hobgoblin directed in a multitude of directions on how to expand the agricultural base of the Unified Territory, farming techniques that wouldn't naturally be discovered for hundreds of years being put into practice so that the Unified forces can flourish sooner rather than later.

quote:

Converting a Scorcher Pop into 1 dominion after getting the okay from The Lord of Hats on discord.

Action 1
Buffing Supernatural Movement with Charming Gaze -2 Failed.

Action 2
Supernatural Movement +3 Dominion- Assuming Direct Control of a gobbo and doing the hard labor of farm expansion myself, they're much too slow and inefficient. 17

For the flag Nezera just splashes red across all the squares of the flag leaving Stefania to doodle whatever she wants on top of it. No particular thoughts on society name, but I kind of just like The Unified as a name though haha.

Down with a really lovely cold that's clouding up my head so .

Theantero
Nov 6, 2011

...they shall march out of my laboratory and sweep away every adversary, every creed, every nation, until the very planet is in the loving grip of the Pax Bisonica. And then peace will reign, and the world, and all humanity, shall bow to me in humble gratitude...

Cepi Yu, Proud Knightcerer of the Warped Table

Initiative: 17
HP: 10
Skills: Glitchweaving [5d6], Proud Knightcerer [2d6] Powers: Spear of Corruption [3d6]; Defense: Shield of Lag [5d6]
Talent: Spent
Items:
AI: Be suitably knightly, try not to die.


She had done it! She had saved the glitchies! Cepi Yu beamed with a radiant smile, addressing her people and her armies.

"It is a time of great rejoicing!", she stated, tone excited, "Our exodus to the real from this evil place is close at hand! But", her brows furrowed, "We cannot leave yet. First, we must make an effort to reach the ignorant and the innocent of this world, to offer them a chance at redemption."

"Yes!" she lifted her lance high up, "We shall be an ARMY OF LIGHT, bringing with us the offer of salvation to the poor peoples of this vile place. It shall be our first, and last, crusade upon this world!"

Cheering. Cepi nodded, mood resolute.

"We march."

My Hero tier armies march to other settlement to offer them Rapture from this gloomy hellworld ruled by capricious gods!
Proud Knightcerer (with 4 points of Dominion) to spearhead the crusade and make my case to the natives so that they will follow the glitchies out of this place: 6d6= 17
Glitchweaving (with 3 points of Dominion) to unlock fast travel for those that choose Salvation from the console so that they can get to the tree all quick like: 8d6= 25

paper bag with a face
Jun 2, 2007
Fighting poverty...one bum at a time.

Emille

HP: 6/8
Initiative: 10
Defense: Parry[3d6]
Pyromancy [3d6], Acrobatics [2d6], Adventuring Knowhow [1d6]
Ignite/Quench [3d6], Radiance [2d6], Arquebus [1d6]
The Master's Mark (chocolate): [spent/unspent]
Items: +1 Ring (+1 to a single action every turn), Miniature Planet (Plop a full sized planet somewhere)
Prides: Proud of Being Mentored
Shame: Pointlessness [1d6]

Marius tried in vain to move. Well, this was awkward, not to mention several different kinds of impossible. Tethering to another person? Impossible. An Unaware at that? Doubly so. Losing awareness of his corporeal form was a little worrisome. A byproduct of the impossible arrangement he found himself in, perhaps. Oh well. At least his body wasn't doing anything too dangerous. Feeding the manticore, yes, but this one was fairly tame as manticores go.

An ancient anger surged in him when he saw the Dungeon Lady's true face. It seemed familiar, but clearly not one of the Seven and One. Even with his hypothesis of amalgamation, he found it unlikely they would choose such a form. Who was it then? Marius resolved to make this mystery woman give an accounting, one way or another.

- - -

Emille instinctively slammed her eyes shut. She wasn't 100% sure what a tesseract was, but this was definitely more complex than one!

"Emille, this is bad. There was a place like this in the Tower, kind of. The Hall of Mirrors, where we all became painfully aware of the stakes. That creature is going to try and extinguish the very concept of You. Protect yourself and the rest should fall in line. And DO NOT let it take any of your possessions. It will only use them against You."

"How? I only caught a glimpse of it and my thoughts burned. Anything you can do? poo poo, I wish I learned blindfighting."

"I am in a...metaphysically strange condition right now, but I think I have some ideas on how to take advantage of it. Keep your eyes closed.

Emille did as directed. It started with a peculiar tingling on the back of her neck followed by a bizarre wrenching sensation. Vision returned to her, despite the fact that at no point did she open her eyes. She was in the Void again, but it made sense now. What had been swirling chaos was now a beautiful fractal made of more shades of grey and black than she even knew existed. Emille decided to look down at her hands and was greeted by a man's hands, clad in heavy, ornate gauntlets.

Ahead of her, the Drone and an infinite array of dwarves stretched out before her.

"Do not be alarmed, and do not open your eyes either. You're seeing what I see, how I see it. Now fight."

It seemed the dwarf was trying something so instead of jumping right in, Emille took the time to prepare. She started off by focusing on the air around her and igniting it, forming a fire shield to repel any melee attacks.

Action 1: Making a fire shield (Pyromancy[3d6]): 3d6+1 11

She also performed the necessary ignitions to form herself a fire elemental helper for the battle ahead.

Action 2: Summon Fire Elemental (Pyromancy[3d6]): 3d6 10

Whatever the dwarf was trying seemed ill-advised, but Emille felt confident she would be ready to strike when it fell through. In a moment of curiosity, she decided to look behind her Marius. What was in his shards?

Nothing.

Wait, no.



A vast mountain of skulls, broken bodies, and discarded armor. Perched at the top of it, a battered, horned helmet, a snarling demon etched onto the faceplate.

"Don't shed any tears for them. Not a single one of them is worthy of it, I'm told."

paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at Jan 17, 2018 around 00:59

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The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

Please... Don't read this post where other people can see...

Stefania, Queen of the Curse Imps

Initiative: 16
HP: 10
Skills: Imptourage [4d6], Penumbral Sorcery [2d6] Powers:Hellfire [4d6]; Defense: Demonic Destiny [5d6]
Talent:Available
Items:None
AI: Solve tasks with imps, if someone tries to hurt her or a friend, use Talent to flip that.
Dominion: 2->0


"Ooh, that does sound like a good plan. I'm all for it!" Stefania responded to Nezera, nodding eagerly. "But I think we need a little more setup..."

In particular, while they were at least vaguely stable now, the fact was that the Unified weren't exactly an impressive civilization. Sure, Nezera was getting them set up with agriculture, and it didn't look like they would starve, they didn't really have much in the way of materials to really make anything impressive. The readout seemed to indicate plenty of minerals in the nearby mountains, but you needed mining equipment to get at that, and you couldn't make mining equipment without materials. It was a real puzzler.

Which was, of course, solved by the handy application of lots and lots of fire. Stefania twisted a knob on the display, turning up the maximum heat of the Scorchers. Ideally, when they really put the effort in, they'd be able to put out a terrifyingly hot stream of superheated hell-plasma, hot enough to reduce rock to slag and get at the really good stuff deep with the mountains. Surely nothing could go wrong with this!

Boost Hellfire with Demonic Destiny: 5d6-4d6 -3 FAILURE

Give Them MINING HEAT BEAMS: 4d6+2d6 26

For the flag, a kind of orange and green yin-yang. It's probably hideous, but hey!

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