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

Emille

HP: 5/8
Initiative: 14
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), The Drill That Would Pierce the Heavens (1/4 charges)
Prides: Proud of Being Mentored

Emille cracked a smile at the dwarf, "Glad to hear you're in agreement. Alright, let's do this. Me and Marius will make sure we aren't seen, and you'll do the looting."

Marius nodded and began sinking into their craft's floor, "Sounds prudent. Excuse me a moment, I need to examine a couple of things." Once he was fully transposed into the shadow plane, he ascended upwards through the roof of the droneship to examine the giant beasts that flew above. After a few moments of studying how their shadows rippled, he was able to conclude that the 'saw' not only on the visible spectrum, but the infrared and radio spectrums as well. He floated back down to Chipper and forced his arm through its shadow's viewport. After a few seconds of rooting around, the noctomancer removed his arm, satisfied that the drone's optics were adequately *attuned*.

Now that the prep work was done, it was time for the hard part. Well, as hard as anything involving magic was for Marius. His senses extended outwards, grasping at every last bit of noctum surrounding the downed Spelljammer. As he bent it to his will, imbuing it with radar and infrared dampening properties, his shadowy hands worked on making an arcane trigger. It took the shape of a small pearl, and when burned it would transpose all the noctum from the Shadow Plane to the Real, effectively blacking out the entire area.

Marius reappeared in the Clipper's interior and passed Emille the trigger, "My part is done, burn this when you're ready to begin."

Action: Noctomancy buff for Emille's Pyromancy [5d6-3d6]: 5d6-3d6 5 Success!

Emille gingerly took the black pearl and placed it at the center of a chalk ritual circle. While Marius handled the visual part of not being seen, Emille was preparing a scaled up version of the quench she tried earlier. If all went right, the droneship wouldn't make a sound or smell as it searched for the cargo bay. After confirming that everyone was ready, Emille ignited the pearl. Everything turned blacker than night.

Action 2: Let's stealth! [3d6+5d6+1]: 3d6+5d6+1 32 DC30 Stealth Check Passed!
Giant Loot Roll: 1d6 4

paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at May 7, 2018 around 17:19

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The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010



Stefania, Queen of the Curse Imps

Initiative: 16
HP: 8/10
Skills: Imptourage [4d6], Penumbral Sorcery [2d6] Powers:Hellfire [4d6]; Defense: Demonic Destiny [5d6]
Proud: Cooperation [1d6]
Talent:Available
Items:None
AI: Solve tasks with imps, if someone tries to hurt her or a friend, use Talent to flip that.


Stefania blinked. They'd gone through different doors, hadn't they? But now they were all in the same place anyways. Looks like the bonds of friendship really were unbreakable! She considered intervening as Nezera shot the foreman into tiny little pieces, and then shot those pieces into even smaller pieces, but thought better of it. Mentor or not, Nezera was looking awfully scary right now. Better to let her work out that stress.

"Alright, guys, form up! We're going to do a little blast mining!" she ordered her imps. The imps, unfortunately, had other ideas. Their hands were stilling feeling awfully tingly after burning that swampy forest into ashes, and there were so many interesting things to look at! Explosions could clearly wait.

Stefania sighed, and gave Vivenne an appreciative nod as her imps were reinforced. "Fine, fine, I get it. Blast mining later. But you're not getting off the hook that easily! Go figure out what's wrong with that machine over there. It's probably ammed or something. You were able to work that giant golem thing, that machine has to be simpler, right?"

Impnitiative: 4d6 9
Imps to Buff Hellfire: 4d6-4d6 -1
Imps Buffed By Vivienne?: 4d6 10 Yes!
Impvestigate that Machinery!: 9d6 33

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: 6/10
Initiative: 15
Skills: Educated Dwarf [3d6], Hearthstone [4d6].
Power: *Superior Quality Repeating Crossbow* [3d6]
Defense: Unbelievably Stubborn [5d6]
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).



Floor 6 - The Wedge

As Emille and her patron handled the getaway from the giant creatures by blanketing everything but certain well-honed senses in absolute darkness, Molriir continued to familiarize himself with Chipper's interface. The runic system read easy to him - the commands intuitive, with the intellect behind it responding well to the dwarf's gentle tapping of command runes. The bug-mechim seemed to take Molriir's instructions as if it had been constructed for it - and perhaps it had been, for the sake of the challenge - but there was an undeniably biological component to its makeup, and Chipper had something of a personality of its own.

Communicating with it through his use of the runic command system, he entreated it to do its best and to continue making suggestions for recommended actions. The drone certainly seemed to be on board with the task at hand - finding and retrieving food and valuables for the SIM was on its main objective tracker. Molriir, too, had figured it was far better suited to scavenging than either of the Deepdelvers, its senses being keen and specialized, its strange eyes capable of tracking and identifying things at the vast distances through which they travelled. Its memory was unparallelled as well - having charted a course it was confident it could travel safely, even through the darkness Emille and her patron had materialized - and it had even spotted a means of ingress.

Molriir smiled and patted a happy-face rune of approval again as the drone, safely ensconced under the veil of darkness, zipped with ease through a rent in the side of the downed ship. The dwarf cycled through the internal viewports as Emille let the darkness drop and sorted the various sights in his head and on-screen. The Holds, vast as they were, would have been carrying goods of normal use and size to its occupants - probably rare and precious things worthy of being shipped across worlds - so figuring out what, if anything, would be convenient and possible to bring back would certainly be a challenge, but Molriir was hardly daunted. He had Chipper's senses to rely on, and besides, the real prize would be the ship's provisions, which Molriir, as a veteran of many expeditions and journeys knew the crew would likely have stored in the ship's Hold. The dwarf eyed the pictures and messages being passed along, and noted the uptick in messages as an area of the Hold got tagged as a location of interest by the drone. He let out a happy chuckle as it then re-emphasized having found the area and even put up a glowing dot on-screen for ease of identification along with a return happy-face rune.

Turning his meat chair around, Molriir gave his other companion a big grin.

"We're in luck, Emille. Chipper's gettin' real excited here - there's somethin' o'er in the back o' th' hold it's identified as a Freezer. Musta been some sort o' food storage place - looks like it's still bein' powered by th' magics o' the ship, too. Hope ye packed yer winter gear, as things are gonna get chilly fer a while-" Molriir paused, then slapped his brow. "Otch wait, yer a Fire Magi, haha ne'ermind, we'll prob'ly be good, aye? Jest keep us warm while I go out an' dig us up some frozen goods. Ye handled the hard part, 's only fair I do the busywork. Besides, I got th' tools and th' trainin' fer minin' meat."

The dwarf patted a stout pick-axe hanging off the side of his backpack encouragingly - the old mining lessons he'd learned at his alma mater would certainly come in handy here - before he turned his attention back to the interior screens and stroked his beard thoughtfully. What else of interest among the lost treasures of the shipwreck could they conceivably pick up and bring along?

Hearthstone to get Chipper's support for Molriir's Educated Dwarf: 4d6-3d6 5 Success!

Educated Dwarf w/Buff to to assess treasures and supplies: 3d6+4d6 28/6 = 4 Units of Rations

Giant Treasure Roll: 1d6 2

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

Grimey Drawer

[Stefania, Vivienne, Cepi-Yu, Nezera]
Floor 4 - The Pit




[Vivienne]



The got stared at her, unblinking, as the enchantress wove her life-affirming magics into its fur and that of the myriad imps that followed Stefania wherever she went. Though Vivienne thrummed with power, its animal instincts could tell she could do naught to harm it, and thus registered her as a pretty looking rock instead of a life threatening predator. This gave Viviennes attempts to command it all the authority of a cloud, yelling at an old man.

Eventually, the goat turned away from her and began nibbling at the soil.

--

[Cepi Yu]

The Heroic Glitchie Knightsceror froze mid-frame as she attempted to work her Talent through both time and space, to save the former Kittenish Delver from certain petting.

The Lady posted:

You arrive outside the dungeon, having been exil- to, wait.

With a puff of smoke, Cepi Yu disappears. Had she ever been there at all?

--

[Nezera]

A Vampire is a being removed from the cycle of life and death via the gift of the Embrace. This dark covenant offers them a multitude of boons, granting them strength, endurance and dexterity far beyond those who still cling to mortality, in exchange for an ever present hunger, The Beast Within. Most Vampyr cope with their transformation by clinging to ancient ideals of what it means to be a creature of darkness. Hanging around crypts, wearing mostly black and associating themselves with ravens, wolves and other critters of the night. With age and experience however, an Elder Vampyr gains a measure of confidence only centuries of not having died again can instill in you.

Nezera was such a vampire, having long ago learned not to fear the Sun (at least with a healthy dollop of sun-screen and a few protective wards), but even for all of her wisdom and control she could still not tame the Beast once it had been addled.

The sight of yet another Kobold, this one daring to question its place in the food chain by ordering her around, made something in Nezera snap. With a snarl, fanged barred, she lunged for his throat, taking the Kobold Overseer completely by surprise. They tussled into the dirt, claw against claw as the fancy-clad lizard pleaded with them and scrambled to escape. "Please! Please! We can talk about this! There is no need to be rash!"

Vampires are many things, all of them violent. When Nezera could gain no purchase on the spindly neck in front of her, when her rippling muscles could no longer grapple the Kobold to the floor and his escape seemed inevitable, out of anger, out of wrath, she let him go.

And slid the Heavy Bolter from its harness, speaking only one word: Die.

--



An Imperial Heavy Bolter has four settings for the discerning murderologist. For the patient, single-fire guided-lock-on rounds. For the casual, the three-round burst. For the serious, a semi-automatic mode in which one could fire a devastating salvo of mini-missiles with which to devastate enemy fortifications and to suppress even the most heavily armored targets.

For the deranged, it has a fourth mode, labeled simple 'metal storm.'



129 vs [it doesn't matter] = Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill! Overkill!

--

With a sound that can only be described at 'bzzt' everything around the deep delvers exploded forever, as the entire belt of miniature rockets zipped into the launching chamber and out the muzzle in the fraction of a second. The first rocket hit the overseer in the leg, exploding it gorily from the rest f his body. The second rocket hit him in the face, gibbing it entirely. Where the rest of the rockets hit didn't really matter at this point, but Nezera made sure to note it down with smug satisfaction anyway. She held the gun steady despite the recoil, her muscles bulging with blood and hatred, but even after the Kobold had been reduced to a smear (a feat which took considerably less time than she had anticipated) the rockets continued to fly, and she had no choice but to hold on tight lest the firearm gain a mind of its own and start firing them back at her for some reason.

With no more Kobold Overseer detected within operating range, the smart-rockets defaulted to the nearest available designated hostiles, in this case Kobolds regardless of title. The missiles quickly descended deep into the quarry and out of sight, striking hither and dither to steal vitality from any humanoid lizard or lizard look alike as they toiled in the pit. Landslides and avalanches quelled what few Kobolds managed to hide away from the intricate kill-sensors and when one of the last missiles hit the great machines fuel reservoir, well, what little resistance remained of the dungeon floors denizens fizzled away in an explosion that could be felt for miles around.



--

When it was all over, Stefania imp-lored her imps to go search the wreckage. They returned about an hour later, claiming naught remained of whatever the Kobolds had been digging through/to/for, except a single key found at the very bottom of the pit. As simple as it was perfect, she had no idea what it was for, but she pocketed it anyway.


[Success! You gain the item A Perfect Key. Keep it safe! Or don't, whatever. I'm not your mom!]

--

[The Infinite Cubicle]


[Cepi-Yu]



"I'm sorry." said Jael, the only sentient that Cepi Yu had been able to hail down from their busy-work from her place on a moderately comfortable seat in a waiting room situated somewhere on a possibly infinite, cubicle-filled plane of Order and Law. "But every single one of our operators are already working over-time on dungeon related complaints. I'm afraid you will just have to take your place in the meta-queue whilst we work things out."

The Glitchie tried activating her abilities, but to no avail. Divine glyphs flared on her wrists as soon as she even thought about source-codery, and her weaponry had been confiscated by a a creature with thirty six wings and four tails the moment she had entered, though it had been kind enough to give her a receipt for their return if she could ever find her way to the lost and found department.

[You have been transferred to the Infinite Cubicle. You are not technically dead, nor exiled, but there is very little you can do at the moment regardless. Perhaps one of your former companions can figure out a way to rescue you? Either way, you seem to be stuck here for the time being.]

--

[Stefania, Vivienne, Nezera]
The Stairwell




Key in hand and with absolutely nothing left alive, the 'challenge' of the pit, such as it was, was completed. The three remaining deep delvers soon found themselves in the all too familiar stairwell, and walked for a time that felt like a mix between waiting for your favorite holiday as a small child and exactly three and a half minutes. There was a door, but there was only one, so with nothing else to do they entered it and proceeded to the fifth floor without further fanfare.

--

[Floor 5]
[The Halls of Sorrow]




Nothing much awaited them in the halls, nothing aside from the barren walls and cracked fissures in betwixt what was and what wasn't. The whole place had a mournful feel to it, but also one of being hastily assembled. Nezera could hear the clitter-clatter of Kobold claws on the stony surface, followed by the 'pop' of dimension-hopping familiar to those as well versed in magic such as she - the scalykin had most certainly been here before them, but wisely fled before she could do anything about it.

No voice resound throughout the void, urging them to sooth their flares of wroth to hearken to a tale as old as time, but if it did it would have sounded something like this:


"Huh? What? Are you lot, like, here already? I thought the last challenge would take you at least three more rounds to finish. Ugh, nevermind. I can't believe I almost forgot how annoyingly competent deep delvers can be.

Uh, anyway. Welcome to the Hall of Sorrows and stuff. I mean, not stuff in that sense, just in the general vernacular you know? It isn't a hall that is sad about stuff, it's just a hall. A room. That you are in. Actually I guess you could say it is a room about sad stuff now that I think about it, but 'room of sad stuff' just doesn't have the same ring to it, you know?

Sigh, can we have a do-over? No? Okay. Fine. You all have a choice to make. You can leave immediately, forgoing your Hearts Desire but taking a treasure with you. Whatever you've picked up so far, but only one item, get it? Don't try to be coy about it either, them's the rules. Just say the word. You'll be forever barred from the Dungeon and I'll do my best to put your plane back how it was, but honestly? That isn't really my priority right now. I've got a lot on my plate.

Or if you'd rather continue, please leave a sorrow behind and exit through that portal over there. What do you mean there isn't any portal? Did they not, ah forget it. Just go lean by a pillar or something and I'll work something out. In the meantime, why don't you sample one of the sorrows the previous group left behind? There are only two so you'll have to work it out amongst yourselves. Last one there is a rotten egg or something. No, tell you what, you can ask me a question instead. As long as it isn't about your hearts desire, because, you know, rules.

Anyway, the first sorrow is a bunch of human tears, I'm sure those are fascinating? The other is a flag that has been torn. A lot of history in that one! Now get to it, delvers!"

--

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010





Countess Nezera Amaris
Initiative: 11 if needed.
HP: 5/9
Skills: Supernatural Movement [3d6], Charming Gaze [3d6]
Powers: Unnatural Strength [5d6]
Defense: Traumatic Regeneration [4d6]
Talent: Impromptu Hors d'oeuvres
Items: Heavy Bolter [1d6 bonus on a melee attacks]
Universal Solvent
Prouds: Bootstraps(+2d6 when taking charge)
AI: Non-hostile- Charm non-PC targets to do tasks for me. Hostile- Punch the hell out of enemies.


Nezera was surprised for a moment, the sheer effectiveness of the Kommander's weapon was stunning, but her surprise gives way to annoyance first at the Kommander's unwillingness to effectively use such a weapon, and in turn amusement as it Just Keeps Going. The bolter clicks empty and Nezera lets out a delighted laugh just as the fuel reservoir below explodes.

Holstering her gun turned make-shift club back at her waist, Nezera turns and brushes an errant strand of hair from her face as she addresses Stefania "That was a touch unprofessional of me, but I suppose it's a good demonstration of what bottling your frustrations with the world can achieve." Her head tilts to the side wistfully as she turns back to view the destruction below. She gives a little satisfied nod as the Imp Queen's little subjects bringing a key up from the decimated depths.

As the group meanders their way down the staircase, Nezera keeps sniffling. Eventually a full blown sneeze is drawn out and she turns to pointedly look at Viviene "Would you do something about that sticky presence hanging about you? It's decidedly unpleasant." She holds he hand out, the small bottle of Universal Solvent balanced across her palm "I do believe this should do the trick."

Kobolds... Of course the first thing she hears are those drat little reptiles. Nezera lets out a brief sigh, the drive to chase the little bastards down and splatter them had been abated for the time being, splattering an entire workforce of the creatures was certainly cathartic.

Nezera begins to clap with excited restraint when the Lady's voice makes an appearance "This place has been getting slightly excited, so compliments on the work. Less fond of the staff, but we make do with what we have I suppose." Considering the choices in front of her, Nezera gives a little shrug "I honestly would rather not spoil myself for what's to come, so if no one has any objections I'll take a peek at the quaint collection of tears."

quote:

Supernatural Movement for the floor's initiative = 11 if needed for something.
Giving Vivene the Universal Solvent so she can de-gum her sticky chakras.
Action 1: Touch some crybaby's tears.
Action 2: HMMM...

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

Grimey Drawer

[Emillie, Molriir]
[Floor 6 - The Face of Oblivion]


With rations sampled and Geotagged (whatever that meant) alongside two promising crates, the two Deepdelvers took off in Chipper to make their way back to the Sky As Maw, only to find out what that name meant first-hand as they approached their original landing site. As no one was there to tell them that "Infinite" was a meaningless numbered when compared to a finite number that was still very, very large, they would just have to deduce this fact for themselves when confronted with this truth expressed to its core.



Internally, Chippers biometrics beeped and glooped at them, revealing the familiar helmet of Pilot on the jelly-like viewscreen via uncomfortable undulations (as if there were any other kind).



"Good work out there Hunters, we'll take it from here. The bounty you located should be more than enough to wake the other half from stasis - and then we can really get cracking! Show those robodegenrates whatfor and all that.
It'l be a proper scuffle, your welcome to tag along if you like. But we all have our code to follow, should you wish to leave you'll find the exit over where you saw Big Guy last - we won't mind, now that you've done your part. As for your reward..."

Pick one, each.

A Bonding Tentacle

"Just insert the pointy end into your Levator Scapulae and the sticky end onto whatever you fancy and you'll effectively merge with it, though if it has any personality to speak of that will probably be overwritten."
One (gross) use.

A "Spy-Fluga"

"Big Guy thinks we can part with one of these, so I'll just take his word for it. Just give it a destination and it'll fly there, do some recon and report back to you. Useless in a fight, but invaluable before one has started."

A Salvaged Spelljammer Core

"Whatever it is you need powering, this will do it."

A Salvaged Spelljammer Aethershield

"If that other thing is what keeps Spelljammers flying, this is what keeps everybody on board from dying.
Just hook it up with a mana source and punch in some appropriate parameters and one end of spacetime will be effectively cut off from the other, rendering incoming attacks moot."

This thing we found that will kill you if you drop it.

"Seriously, I wouldn't even touch it."

"A strange key?"

"At least, that's what Big Guy thinks it is."

"Promotion from mercenary to fully flesh-edged member of the Sky-As-Maw."

"You'll have to leave delving behind, but we'll be glad to have you aboard. You'll be assigned to Chipper for now, as you have already bonded."

--

[Molriir, Emilie]
[The Stairwell]



Satisfied that they had made the right choice, the Deepdelvers did or did not proceed to the exit - a swirling rainbow portal that whisked them away from the Face of Oblivion into that all too familiar stairwell.
As Marius had been there in person to instruct Emilie to avoid any attempts at communication during her decent, the next few years of his life passed in blessed silence compared to the previous jaunt, though in the end he wondered if he perhaps not preferred the incessant hum over the void in his mind that indicated the uncertainty of his companions status.

For her part, the descent took all of five minutes as the stairwell progressed in a somewhat natural manner. Indeed, if they looked through the empty alcoves towards the top they could see that they had indeed only progressed six floors so far - despite the combined hours (years?) of walking.

What surprised them the most was not that their journey ended so soon, but that it ended at all. Reaching the bottom was supposed to be the end of it, as far as the tales of outbound travelers had conferred, though obviously none of those they had met before entering themselves had made it all the way down to actually verify this.

The bottom was not at all as they had imagined when they looked at it from above, with the final step ending on soft, grassladen ground instead of the cold stone floor they had previously seen. They found themselves in an open clearing with a large, circular metallic platform in the middle, with pillars morphing seamlessly from metal to stone as they ascended into the super-structure above them as readily as the sky gave way to stairs and stars.

But the most surprising thing was the sign perched upon the metal scaffolding, where writ in neon was the one word Emilie knew her mentor abhorred above all others.



The platform held a table with plenty of seats beside it, as well as a door leading nowhere. Beside the platform, such that you could reach it without crossing the obvious centerpiece lay another door, also seemingly leading nowhere, but somehow, inherently, a less important nowhere - out.

Emilie and Molriir hesitated - they had come this far, could they afford not to go that one step further? Only time would tell.

Prince of Space
Apr 17, 2016



Hell Gem


Name: Vivien Lumière
Initiative: 22
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: 1
Status: Sugar-Coated Chakras: Cannot inflict harm.
Items: Universal Solvent
Cohort: A Goat: Skills: Headbutt: 2d6, Eat It: 3d6 Defenses: 2d6 Made of Wool

Vivien watched from a position of utter helplessness as Nezera the Vampire Countess fired the ranged bolter relentlessly at the lone enemy kobold until the fearsome weapon was entirely drained of its belt-fed ammunition. What a warrior's weapon that vampire held! Such brutality behind that one act of violence, too! Vivien had no time to be shocked by her companion's rampant cruelty before she and the other deepdelvers were whisked away to the Dungeon's main stairwell, to descend once again...

The next floor was named the Hall of Sorrows, but what sorrows were truly there had yet to be seen. The Lady of the Dungeon's disembodied presence spoke to them all in a voice that sounded so young, and yet she was still sight unseen. Vivien poked around the scene along with her Goat friend, looking for any signs of tricks, traps, or danger.

As habit would dictate, she cast a spell that she felt she'd attempted numerous times over the course of this journey within this Dungeon's depths, to no avail.

Action 1: Talent: Prismatic Refraction: 2#1d4 1 4 Failure! Max targets this floor: 1

Her color-splitting magic was no good here, it seemed. If only her chakras weren't so clogged up with karmael! Hold on...

Vivien retrieved the Universal Solvent she'd been given by Nezera on the staircase, in what seemed like ages ago - what had she wanted her to do with it? Something about the cloyingly sticky presence emanating from her magical sources, of course!

Vivien unstoppered the precious bottle of solvents and took a tentative whiff of the anointing oil extract before applying it on her wrists, neck and forehead.

Item Use: Vivien uses the Universal Solvent on her Sugar-Coated Chakras!

Ah, so clean and refreshed, like a bubble of purity blossoming in the mind! Vivien was already starting to feel better, just as the voice of the Lady of the Dungeon continued on.

According to the Lady, they needed to leave behind a sorrow to continue onward, and there were only two sorrows available to take: a bunch of human tears and a torn flag.

True to her kind, the Vampire Countess Nezera had gone after the human tears, which left the flag to Vivien and Goat to inspect.

"Don't eat it, Goat! Your'e going to make the tears worse!" Vivien scolded her pet goat as she pulled the important relic from the animal's mouth.

"You scoundrel," Vivien cried, stamping her foot. "Now I'm going to have to mend it!"

She took a deep breath and recomposed herself. "Thankfully, there's a spell for that."

Action 2: Curative Magic: Time-Repair on the Torn Flag: 4d6 15

"Oh and Lady of the Dungeon," Vivien called out to the stark emptiness. "My question to you: how do we bring back Deepdelvers who have left us?"

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010



Stefania, Queen of the Curse Imps

Initiative: 16
HP: 8/10
Skills: Imptourage [4d6], Penumbral Sorcery [2d6] Powers:Hellfire [4d6]; Defense: Demonic Destiny [5d6]
Proud: Cooperation [1d6]
Talent:Available
Items:None
AI: Solve tasks with imps, if someone tries to hurt her or a friend, use Talent to flip that.


Stefania idly scratched the head of the imp that had found the key (Curse-Of-Frequent-High-School-Flashbacks) as the other imp poked at the few scraps of kobold that remained. "No, no, I get it. It was really... what's the word, cathartic to watch. He had it coming. Or someone like him, at least. If he didn't, well... sorry? I mean, I feel kind of bad for saying that, but he did kind of take the job."

The descent to the next level was quiet, and she considered this new... challenge? Was it a challenge? Obviously they had to complete it to move onwards, but... it sure didn't feel like the kind of trials they'd come across before. Leaving a sorrow behind... What was that even supposed to mean? What she needed right now was an example. And hey, there they were! Nezera was already touching the tears. Might as well see what the flag is about.

"You all keep an eye out, okay? I don't know if this is going to be some kind of crazy vision quest or something. But I'll be back in just a moment!"

Impnitiative: 4d6 9
Action 1: Touch the Flag
Action 2: Imps Keep Watch: 4d6 15

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

Emille

HP: 5/8
Initiative: 6
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), The Drill That Would Pierce the Heavens (1/4 charges), Salvaged Spelljamer Core (power something)

Prides: Proud of Being Mentored

"These items.", Marius's shade rasped, "One of them s͔͇i̗̼n̯͈̙g͍̫̘̳̠͈s͉ ͍̯̲̺͚t̵̫͉̫̺̺o ̼̹͕͍͙̣͈m̶̞̥̫͚̫e̳̟̥̬͚͡ͅ ͍̱̪͠u̻̬̟ś͕̭̞̼." His shadow hovered over to the box containing the Bonding Tentacle and seemed to stare intently at it.

Emille blinked. Okay, this was weird and inexplicable, even for her mentor. She instinctively tapped her ear with her finger to make sure her hearing wasn't going out. "You okay, master?", she asked, an obvious note of worry in her voice. Marius's stare did not waver.

"I̜̕ ͖̖͡a̪̘̯͉̪̹͓m͍͕ ̛̟͈̮͇͔ͅW̠̦ͅe̦̭ ̦̠̘͉̝͔̜a͓̗̲̱ŕ̜͇̘̰̲̳̺e̫̣̻̦ͅ fine. The item in the box was once a part of m̻̳ȩ̱̺ ̯̺̪̤̞̦u͕̲͎͎̫͘s̘̘ and I̵̖ ̼̹w̼͓̕e̶ a part of it. Proximity to it...is affecting m̵͎̜y͢ ̫̰̹ó͖̝͖͓u͈̙r̤͙̳̜ thoughts. Aggressive psionic marketing."

Emille looked in the box and nervously clicked her tongue at the sight of the fleshy appendage, "So, uh, what exactly am I looking at? Looks like any other severed monster bit to me."

Marius lurched into a sales pitch, "Well, E̢̪m̰̻i̘̼͕͎̹͍̙͢l̤̞̱̮̗̙͠l͓̦̬͇͙̖͚e͙ ̪͈̭̖̰̀ v̡͕̣̙̬a̞l͔̭͉̭̰͙̳u̞̮̙͚̝ȩd̜͕ ̡͉͚̣͎̣̣c̥͕̦͠l̡̮̤͕̭̩ͅi̹͉̝̭͈̹e̙̭̠͝n͇͇t̛̯̥̫̖, I am glad you asked! This is a C̙̮͝o̲̫͠nc̦̬͈͇̫̼ͅe̴̝̬͕pṯ̷ ̛͉Un̵̲̗̙͕͕i̭͡f͕̠̪̙̣i̷̥̤̗̩c̙͕͈͓a̛̻̤ṭ̛̭̤̲̲̝̥i̯̘̫̫̘̳̖͢o͓n̥̠̤̗͔ ̳͚̪͙͜P̳̘͝r̛̳̭̞̩o̷b͇͙͇ò̱̜̳̯̼̬ͅs̡̖c̪i̟̖̯̘͍̗s̶̼͙̫͔ (let's just call it a CUP). It is used in h̡̯͉̖ͅo͓̜͎͞s̡͖t̗̀i͖̥l͠è̳͍̦̥ ̡̦̻̖͔̞m̸̰͚̞̭e̠͈͚̯͟ṛ̤̺̘g͕̗͝e̗̤̫ͅͅṟ̟͕̩͎̰ͅs҉̥̠ to su̸͇̞͔̺͇b̝͟s̬͈͙̩um̖͙̘̘͙̩ȩ̯͙͕͎̳ ͍̬͚̤ͅt̵̫̫͍͍̺̮h̶̝e͏̫͎̜͈̭͙͙ ̟̹̲͉f̵͇l̴̼̯e̞̻͓̬̮̪s̰̜̝͔̘̩h͕͓̯͚̲ ̼̪̣̯͞ͅa̬̼n̩͇̝̗͖d҉ ͎ṃ̠̝͚̭́ͅi҉̳̺̻̜͇͉nd̸̝̥͇̤̞ ̗͚̹̬̤ai͖̳̰͚̳d̠̝͡ ͈͎̮i͉̭̹̯n̝̫͔̜͜ ̷̞̺͕̬̝ͅi̵̬̦̗̳ͅṉ̀t̻̥̥̹e̳͕͖̖̝̦ͅg҉̲̬̦̰̦̳r̯̝͔̲ͅa҉ṯ̛͕͇i̳͍͘n̡̘̳g͓̣̯͇̗̼̤ ̀d͚͘i̮͖͕̳ͅs̗͖̦͓p̹̠a̸r͍͙͍͇̦̳̝a̺ṭ͙e̘̻ ͎̦͍̝̘̜̕p͔̫͕̟ͅa̶̝͚̮̻̳͉r̥͘a͕̻d̘̝͘i̲̻ͅģ͇̠mş͉̝ ҉̤̝̲̯̱̳̼i̘̬̫͍̦͠n̩̙̜̭̮͇̺t̹̣̖͖̪̩o ̨̤̲͈͙͙a̼͕̲ ̥̘̭͍̠͞ç̰͙o̵͇̣͇͓her̻͎͓̯e̺͘n̟̮͔̟͈̫ͅt̰͖ ͔̞͉͍͔w̰̞̻h̨̙͓̳ò̤̰̠͈̟l̥͓̼͖e͇͢."

It took Emille a few seconds to parse the arcane corporate jargon. She asked a followup question, "So this, uh, CUP thing sounds very powerful. Is it from when you were an eldritch horror?"

"Correct, from when I̵̼̞͙̭ ҉̖͈͕͎̹͎̮w̰ȩ were the ̳̪̫͉͈͘b̝̙o̪̲̳̜̦̫͝ͅa̶̘̩̦͍͉͎̲r̪̫͙͘d̢ ̹̜̳͍͢o҉̼̫f̭͎͞ ̳̳͙͈̝̹ͅd̨̖̖͈̫̮̼̗ir̖̤̮̖̙e͙̼̹̙̯̱c͚̥̲͖t̜̱o̺͉͎r̮͓̘̳̺s̜̱̬̝ͅ."

Emille motioned at the box containing the CUP, "Riiiight. Hey, Pilot, could you take this thing away for a little bit?" Marius did not hover after the box as it was removed, though his gaze followed it, even after it could no longer be seen. Emille noticed that the normally expressionless shadow's hands were trembling. "Thank you, Emille.", he sighed, "I was naive to think I'd never encounter something like that ever again."

"It seems like it could be useful.", Emille said quietly, "Should I? Is it safe?"

Marius's double's hand moved up to rub its temple, "It is perfectly safe. Whatever you use it on will be completely assimilated; I doubt it will even affect your thought process much. We used to say those consciousnesses went to go work in the mail room. There is one catch. You must never, ever use it on me. The CUPs were designed to work in reverse if used on a [Dominant Aspect] such as myself. Not to mention any unforeseen side effects. I could have a bloody relapse," The shadow mimicked clearing its throat, "As for whether or not you should, that is for you to decide. I only have two questions for you. First, do you like yourself as you are? I certainly hope you do, high self esteem is something I try to instill in all my pupils."

"Of course I do!", Emille replied with a theatrical flex, "I worked very hard for this body!"

"I am happy to hear it.", the shadow nodded, "As you are not a [Dominant Aspect], I do not know if you will have any control over what form you take after the Unification takes place. While I can guarantee it will be a [Viable Configuration], I cannot guarantee it will be to your liking. Second question, and this is the big one." Marius took a pregnant pause.

"Can you live with completely and utterly snuffing out another being, mind, body and soul, for personal gain, every fiber of your being becoming an eternal reminder of what you did?"

Emille didn't answer the question. She didn't want the CUP anymore.

Emille takes the Salvaged Spelljammer Core

- - -

"Good news, Emille!", a gleeful Marius exclaimed, "While you were on the stairs, I was able to locate a manual for that starsh-spelljammer fusion core of yours. Imagine, the power of a star in the hands of a pyroma-" After he got a good look around the new floor, Marius abruptly cut himself off, "Oh. Oh no." For an instant, Emille could feel a crushing mixture of dread and despair coming through her link with her master before he cut it off.

He spoke telepathically, "This is one of the floors the Tower pulls out when it decides it wants more suffering, more bloodshed. You can still leave, you know. You'll be rich, powerful, alive. Ask yourself if this is what you want. Please."

"Yes, Marius. This is the adventure of a lifetime. I'd never be able to forgive myself if I backed out now. I want to see what is at the bottom. I want to see what you've seen!"

Marius was quiet for a long time. An infinite distance away, an old man let out a choked sob. "No, you do not. But I will respect your decision. You and every other Delver will be pitted against each other here. Only half of you will live. There is no good or evil here, no right or wrong, only living and dying. And if the worst happens, know that I- I'll do everything I can to make things right."

Emille straightened out her clothes, checked her sword, and began to climb the stairs. She ignited the air around herself, watching it warp and distort from the heat. A little preparation.

Action 1: Making a fire shield (Pyromancy[3d6]): 3d6+1 13

She addressed her dwarven companion, "Moriir, you've been a big help these past few floors. I wish you the best of luck in whatever happens next." The air around Moriir (assuming he wished to stay) crackled and wavered as a heat shield coalesced around him.

Action 2: A fire shield for Moriir too [3d6]: 3d6 14

As Emille took a set around the table, her teacher chimed in one last time.

"I'm very proud of you, Emille. I just want you to know that."

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: 6/10
Initiative: 9
Skills: Educated Dwarf [3d6], Hearthstone [4d6].
Power: *Superior Quality Repeating Crossbow* [3d6]
Defense: Unbelievably Stubborn [5d6]
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).



Floor 6 - The Face of Oblivion

"Reckon I'd better take this, then," said Molriir after Emille made her pick. The dwarf quickly seized on the Spelljammer Aethershield and gave it right over to the young adventuress. He gave a wry grin at her expression.

"I insist, Emille. Th' two pieces were practically made fer each o'er, nae? And this high magic stuff has a better synergy with ye than me. Yer th' Magi here. Besides, ye humans 'ave always gotten a right raw deal - well, maybe not ye, but them poor folk from me home realm certainly 'ave - so I'm glad t' be able t' offer one o' ye more o' a chance t' stand up fer yerself."

The dwarf turned next to Big Guy and Pilot and gave them a friendly wave - in the end they'd upheld their part of whatever this challenge was all about - and even if they were off to launch an attack on some other faction in this wasted land, there was little a stranger to their ways could do about it. "Thanks fer th' offer, but nae thanks. Best o' luck t' ye, though, and if I may, try lookin' a bit into sustainable livin', nae? 's nae good fer morale if one 'alf o' the team keeps considerin' eatin' the o'er, ye ken."

Farewells said and done with, the dwarf took one long look at the doorway leading down, swallowed hard, grit his teeth and stepped through.

Floor 7 - The Culling

As they exited onto (existed into?) the next floor Molriir pinched the bridge of his nose and slapped himself stubbornly across the cheeks until his eyes stopped crossing. This stairwell had been the worst yet - his sense of balance had been absolutely crushed and he'd lost all sense of direction stumbling down stairs of indeterminate size and scope, but at least he was starting to... well, not exactly get used to it - nothing would prepare him for the endless sense of vertiginous nausea that every step increasingly forced on him - but to recover his senses faster, which at least was something.

He frowned as he peered up the signs and gazed around at the empty arena-like space. Seeing the door, he immediately gave a slight shake of his head, more for the Lady than anyone else. That wasn't the option he'd come down here to take, even if he was increasingly sure that his clan was fine - that beneath the veneer of Dungeon the Lady had placed over his home halls, they had suffered no actual damage at all. He stayed, however, because whether he was intended to be here or not, the Lady had sought Delvers. What her reason was, what the Lady of the Dungeon truly desired, he could only guess at based on her ominous answer to his question - and probably badly at that - but he would still stay the course.

He was nothing if not stubborn.

"Cheery bit o' welcome there. Think this is some manner o' elimination level o' th' delve?" he asked of Emille while she wove her shield around him. Her somber expression seemed to agree - and her words did a charitable impression of a heartfelt farewell - so the dwarf lifted an eyebrow at her and slowly nodded.

"Well, same t' ye," he said as the heat wave settled around him. He looked at it for a few seconds, thinking, then his face lit up in a smile and as she made for the center stage, the dwarf reached out and held on to her hand.

"Look... donnae worry, we'll take on this challenge as it comes. It can't be as bad as all that, and e'en if it is, let's at least ferst sit down and have a proper square meal. We ne'er did get t' break fast in the Halls o' Sorrow, ye ken."

He unhitched his pack and let it slip the ground, careful not to let it pass into the boundary of his fire shield.

"I'll throw down some Rum o' th' Nellies, a bit o' seared rabbit, maybe make stew... otch, it sort o' looks like we'll 'ave company, donnae it, from all them chairs? Maybe I'd better prepare more than one meal... well, ferst come, ferst serve. Whaddye fancy? I got a little bit o' everythin' fer me homecomin'. Ye'd be surprised what kind o' missteps can be fergiven o'er a good cookpot. Bit o' a tip, that. Ken a good cook, or pick up a bit o' cookery on yer own, and ye'll nae live unhappily. Doesn't take much t' make somethin' better than what ye began with, ye ken. Time and effort. Bit o' love. Exotic spices. Mind ye, that last one might get expensive... but ye won't need a lot."

The dwarf smiled and popped open his backpack. He proceeded to withdrew bundles of wrapped and salted meat, various cut and stacked vegetative materials and fibers, a number of pickle jars and small bags of spices and watersealed dry ingredients. Following them were a rattle of carefully stacked small pans and cookpots, saucepots and meal tins. The dwarf looked over the assembled goods, nodded to himself and with hardly a care for the defensive utility of the heatwave surrounding him, he began to expertly use it to create an impromptu kitchen area, settling down into a well-rehearsed routine. To Emille the dwarf indicated a wide array of possible meals, talking about the flavours and savoryness of each, about where he'd gotten the ingredients ("-and borefish from th' Nellies, most vegs from th' Trimmanic Empire, spices from all o'er, but th' Tradizan blend is th' best fer meats-") and how he intended to prepare them.

Emille could only stare as the dwarf slowly and surely drained the heat from her shield to prepare an unexpectedly lavish meal of her choosing.



Interrupt! Use Emille's defensive spell as a situational buff to Educated Dwarf: 14-3d6 2 Success!

Educated Dwarf w/Pyromancy buff to cook a ☼Masterful☼ meal to fuel Emille's spirit and buff Ignite/Quench: 6d6-3d6 9 Success!

Hearthstone to cook a heartfelt meal to fire up Emille's passions and buff Pyromancy: 4d6-3d6 2 Success!

Scribbleykins fucked around with this message at Jun 13, 2018 around 17:52

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

Grimey Drawer

[Floor 5]
[The Halls of Sorrow]




[Nezera]

Nezera approached the tears with a solidity of purpose obtained from centuries of intimate study on the subject. Oh how she had inflicted terror in her youth, oh how extravagantly she had sowed them upon the populace; and oh how she had matured. True, whilst her legend still struck fear, there was now something far more sinister in her administration. The tears of her people had long since dried up, to be replaced by quiet compliance. An anguish far more enduring, a nectar almost as sweet as Life. Almost.

Indeed, in her time, she had met with tears aplenty. From the noble distraught at the crumbling of xir empire at Nezeras scheming hands to the mewling of the cattle left standing in the wake of her warpath, few varieties were unknown to her.
Amongst the rarest, relief, for what Vampyr, elder or not, could ever know the true meaning of Respite? To be sure, there was the Grave Calm, or Torpor, that had she had been involuntarily introduced to in her early days, back when unlife was new to her and its pitfalls many. But not even then had she truly rested, for the beast within was not so easily quelled and her Will besides it, a fierce competitor.

So, even post-post-death, she had Awoken. Broken the cycle of death upon death, conquered the ancient Anathema and rose to the pinnacle of her kind, ever seeking to conquer all weakness inside and out, until... until forever.

Until today.



She downed the tears fully expecting to swallow some sensmoric sulking, a sensuous silken lozenge of nostalgia tipped dread, perhaps, or a terrible, tantalizing tidbit of trauma. She received neither.
Indeed, what came as a shock to her mentality as much as her system was the full body calm that immersed her in an almost apathetic acceptance of existence.



The Beast Within.... quieted. Snored, even. The Eternal Hunger abated, the Red Pain vanished from her eyes in an instant. It was not euphoria that graced her, nor regret or sorrow. Simply this, a moment of true calm.

--

[Vivienne]

Vivienne drank the tonic given her by the Vampire, who seemed to be undergoing some sort of meditative trance at the moment, without a moments hesitation.
She felt inherently >soggy< and wanted nothing more than to return to her previous, pristine state, and had no reason not to trust the ancient, human-blood drinking, kobold-genociding demon by her side.
After all, her only other friend still present was apparently some sort of Demon Heiress. Perhaps the rest of the world was all demons; and then, who was she to judge?

The Solvent ran down her throat unlike any potion she had ever countered; not so much down as around. All encompassing, she felt the liquid pour from her mouth and out into her veins, filling her completely with a warmth like a sauna from within.
Then all at once it crystallized and she turned stale, unable to move even an ångström. A truer petrification could not be wrought by spell or curse, save that she still had mind to contemplate its fullness.

And then, after a moment, it turned to steam. A cloud of vapour released from her every metaphysical pore, turning her into a light-house in the sixth and astral sense but leaving her looking as usual to those not accustomed to such sight.



When she came to, that sticky feeling was gone, and she felt smoother than ever. She felt she could outslip an eel, going downhill on ninety degree a soaped-up hydrophobic slip-n-slide.

[Success. You may now hurt people at your leisure! Hooraj!]

After all of that, her mana-reserves were too exhausted for spellwork, so instead she simply asked the Lady a question. "How do we bring back Deepdelvers who have left us?"

She didn't get an answer, of course, because there was no one there to give it, but if she had, it might have been this. Except it wasn't.



The First and Only Rule is that there are No Rules, Save One; The First.
The Second Rule is that none that have Failed might return; lest the First Rule be broken.
The Third Rule is that when gone, there is nothing left.

To answer your question then, you simply do. It is at once as easy as snapping your fingers, and as hard as surviving the attempt. You need but the Talent to try.

[Vivienne, Roll a 1d4. On a 4, you may bring Cepi-Yu back from exile to join you on the next floor. On a 1, her place is lost for good. On a two or a three, nothing happens.]

--

[Stefania]

The Demoness anticipated trouble and had her Imps keep close watch of her surroundings. She was to show them all that she was not to be trifled with, that she was not to be one-upped by some Demon King or trapped by a game-shows worth of of Kobolds or even struck by an errant rake like a side-show clown! No, she was in Charge! She was going to make a grab for the Flag, come Home or High Waters!

Her vision blurred, and gave way to anothers, as she clutched the broken cloth to her heart.



"Home. It means the World to me, My Lord of Hearts. Oh how I plead with You for its Salvation. I am but a humble servant, with my Life in Service as Sacred Sacrifice to Thee. Pray let my tears be proof of valour, of conduct and intent.
Let not the Urruks or the Pantheon of Nine, let not the Vanguard of Extremeties or the Company of Elks or the Gluttonous Cavalry of the Singed Mountain raze our home. Let not a single Soldier of the Enemy brush muddied boots upon our shores;
let not foreign catapults sling stones upon our houses, for With You we Stand, exulting your True Glories, praising your Word and Deed. Until the hour of Judgement. Let our Home Stand."



--

[Elsewhere, Elsewhen]



"Lord of Hearts - You stand Accused Before the Gods of Garn for Gravest Heresy.
We watched in Silence as you have purposefully shepherded a nascent sapience from spore to growth, to stumbling babe to stalwart champions.
We advised you that the Path you took was off-kilter, that the World We Ward would turn to chaos should it be willfully ignored.
Yet despite our words, you have favored the needs of your own beyond the needs of the many.
Despite Your Pledge, the Dominion you embody has Diminished, withered and atrophied as you gave your all to mortals, and a select few at that.
Know that We Accuse, not for vengeance, but for Balance.
Know that We Advice; Your People Share Their Fate with You.
Such is the Word of Accusation. Such is the Message with which we are Imbued.


"All I did was for my people. They are all I am and nothing more; spare them if you must have me. For their plight I must abhoar."


"Silence, Lord, Let Thy Council Speak For Thee, for Thy Voice is Tarnished, Thy Breath A Sin, a Burden. Move not from shame, quiver not from the chains of guilt thus placed upon you, Until Judgement is laid by your Betters.
Come then, Council, and Have your Word before the Court, and Let Us Be Off In Time For Morning Sacrifice."


"The Court recognizes Stefania, Demon-Heir and Queen of Curse Imps, as Council for the Lord of Hearts."

[Stefania]
You, uh, what? Where is everyone else? Where are you and.. who is, what? It looks like a bunch of Gods are quibbling over something. They look at you expectantly. What do you say to them?

---

[Stefania, Vivienne, Nezera]
[The Stairwell]


When the moments had passed, so too had the Halls of Sorrow, leaving them all slightly dazed and not a little confused.
They trudged downstairs, (as if there were any other direction to go), thinking mostly of the tears they left behind and the ones they had encountered, until suddenly the stairs stopped stairing and they all fell flat on their faces into a new world, below.

---

[Everyone]
[The Culling]



They found themselves in an open clearing with a large, circular metallic platform in the middle, with pillars morphing seamlessly from metal to stone as they ascended into the super-structure above them as readily as the sky gave way to stairs and stars. Three exits presented themselves, two barred.

One, the stairs behind them. A curious wound in the fabric of the reality they saw before them.
Two, a doorway on the platform. Deliberately closed, leading... elsewhere?
Three, a doorway to the side. A way out, resignation.

They felt an anxiety in the air and at once did not hear a voice that wasn't not familiar.


"Wow - is that, like, really all of you? I mean, I'd say I was shocked and all but I'm mostly omniscient, so this just barley registers honestly.
Anyway, thanks for coming I guess - It was such a hassle getting you all together, you have no idea. Oh and you are free to leave if you want, I guess. Just take that door. That would be super disappointing though, I'd much rather you'd stay.
Not that I really care or anything, but you've come this far, why not take it one step further? That's like, my whole philosophy right now, so heres the deal.

Impress me.

What? What are you staring at. Oh, the platform? Yeah that is where you go if you decide to stay. I'll let you work it out amongst yourselves first, but those that leave can take a consolation prize, I guess, if you've found any.
Lots of junk in this place, even though I told the Kobolds to clean it up. Sigh. Delvers keep bringing stuff in and losing it along the way you see. It's a thing. Anyway I guess its recycling in a way, and that is supposed to be good for the environment and stuff, so whatever, right?

Right.

--

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: 6/10
Initiative: 9
Skills: Educated Dwarf [3d6], Hearthstone [4d6].
Power: *Superior Quality Repeating Crossbow* [3d6]
Defense: Unbelievably Stubborn [5d6]
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).



Floor 7 - The Culling

Molriir was in high spirits after the success of his meal when the Lady's announcement didn't tip him off to the arrival of yet more Delvers. He chuckled and shook his head at the familiar sardonic style of non-address.

"I get tha' yer probably holdin' much o' wha' exists on yer shoulders by preventin' th' return o' some Tower Magi-made disaster and yer dead tired o' it, but tha' much sass cannae be good fer yer complexion," he gently joked at thin air, before looking back towards the stairwell and the newcomers and waving at them.

"What ho there ladies - an' a goat? Well... I s'pose anythin' can delve. Greetings t' ye all, I'm Molriir Hearthstone and this is me friend o' late, Emille. We were jest holdin' up fer a meal - a meal fer e meal, tha' is. I'm glad t' see more'n jest th' two of us made it! Guess th' Duchess didnae..." Molriir said, trailing off and shooting a glance at Emille. The two had appeared to come from the same world, but as Emille did not look broken up over it he just mentally shrugged and kept addressing the newcomers.

"Ne'er ye mind me concern. Might be she got out. The Lady's offer t' jest up and leave 'ave always been honest as best I can tell, though gettin' back home wasnae guaranteed at th' start, an' I think it might be now. If yer worried about yer hometowns, I almost think th' Dungeon'll go away when ye exit. Us Delvers look t' be what th' Lady really wants, I figure. Now... I ain't packed up here yet, so anyone else want a bite o' somethin' afore we see what this 'Cullin'' is all about? Ferst come, ferst serve, get it while me pans are still hot."

Molriir gestured at his cooking-camp setup and his diminishing stack of supplies.

"... and while yer at it feel free t' introduce yerself. I'd be more'n happy t' swap a few words afore we start, it's nae e'ery day ye get th' chance t' meet folks from o'er worlds. Bit o' a shame to waste it, nae?"



Molriir's offer is genuine - he will try to buff a skill, power or defense of your choice before we move on into the Culling arena. Obviously he can only do this twice this round, due to limited time and/or supplies.

Prince of Space
Apr 17, 2016



Hell Gem


Name: Vivien Lumière
Initiative: 16
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: 1
Cohort: A Goat: Skills: Headbutt: 2d6, Eat It: 3d6 Defenses: 2d6 Made of Wool

Vivien stared at her hands as though she had some kind of otherworldly teleportation power trapped within her hands. The strange non-voice had said that it was as easy as snapping one's fingers - you just "did it."

Vivien focused her energies and tried to will the Knightcerer Cepi Yu back into being! She snapped her fingers with a single question on her mind:

Will Cepi Yu be joining us this floor?: 1d4 4 - Yes, she will!

With a new floor came new challenges. Vivien attempted to split her energetic focuses into multiple domains...

Talent: Prismatic Refraction: 1d4 1 1d4 1 - Failure! Max targets this floor: 1

Undeterred by her inability to multitask, Vivien poured her curative magic's energies into the dwarf who had so generously offered to break bread with them all.

Curative Magic: Healing Molriir: 4d6 12

"Molriir, was it? Thank you kind sir for your gracious hospitality!"

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Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010





Countess Nezera Amaris
Initiative: 12
HP: 5/9
Skills: Supernatural Movement [3d6], Charming Gaze [3d6]
Powers: Unnatural Strength [5d6]
Defense: Traumatic Regeneration [4d6]
Talent: Impromptu Hors d'oeuvres
Items: Empty Heavy Bolter [1d6 bonus on melee attacks]
Prouds: Bootstraps(+2d6 when taking charge)
AI: Non-hostile- Charm non-PC targets to do tasks for me. Hostile- Punch the hell out of enemies.


The journey between floors is somewhat a blur for Nezera. The pure sense of calm that had burrowed all the way to the core of her being would have been unsettling if her thoughts hadn't been likewise caught up in the quelling of her hunger. As it was she'd simply followed along silently in the rest of the party's wake.

Things begin to rumble back to wakefulness eventually, and Nezera comes to her senses once again as their mysterious host is explaining that the kobolds were meant to have cleaned up, distaste smacks her in the face and any warm fuzzy feelings left over from the calming effects of the tears are wiped away.

Shaking off the residuals, Nezera gives a curt nod to the group's apparent predecessors in descent "Countess Nezera Amaris. A pleasure to make your acquaintance I'm sure." She glances at the fare that the dwarf has on offer and declines "Not my usual fare I'm afraid, though I appreciate the offer I suppose."

Glancing this way and that around the culling arena and not particularly bothered to indulge in mortal delights, Nezera give the exit door a glance for the merest of moments and then makes to slink off toward the platform to examine the door "It would likely be smart for me to head on out to dole out some damage control after the dungeon dropped a hydra on my city, but I have to admit I'm having a little too much fun to leave just yet, so whatever it takes to head onward and downward it is!"

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