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+1 to Don Keynoté Wispings: 3 Remaining: - Abstain
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Apr 14, 2019 00:09
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I'll dunk a -1 onto Salsa as well, why not. Wysp'd: 3 Remains: + -
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Apr 14, 2019 02:12
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Cloud Potato posted:-1 Farrow. Getting rid of my last negawisp where it'll do the least harm. Also, no one Ohmian should have that much power. Technically the place where it does least harm is Salsa being eviscerated by dread good Arengee.
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Apr 14, 2019 11:01
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-1 to Salsa Roja Wispings: 3 Remaining: - Abstain
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Apr 14, 2019 17:14
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Hey guys, have a look at what Noppy did for coffee. (and what I did for free)
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Apr 21, 2019 03:35
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   Morning arose over the quiet Hinterlands of southern This Way, this small valley used as the testbed to many of Clan Anorak’s Technik experiments for good or for ill had been cordoned off today for all but the trusted assistant Technik’s of Mikado Type, the Prototype, and it’s recruited Mailcoach pilot. A tense silence surrounded the valley that gave the proceedings the air of importance it deserved, because what they would be doing today was something no other Technik had dared try in the course of their explosive history, combining the technology of the Choolainn with one of it’s oldest and most sacred magical secrets. Over on the distant hillside, a light was being flashed in sequence a Junior Technik turned to the Chosen of Maintenence as she was checking over the Locomorrigan one last time. “Coalkin’s sent us the word ma’am, they’re cleared on their end for the Carriage’s arrival.” “Aye, alright crew clear the line, get behind the blast shield.” The cockpit opened up as Fare poked his head out of the Carriage. “Blast shield what do ye mean blast shi-.” “Yer not gonna blow up ye eejit that’s just what we call the big hunk a’ metal we stand behind fer safety reasons. Now strap in, the line has been cleared for ye and we’ve gone through as much prep as we can.”  The engine hummed to life, whirling gears and puffing steam as the internal boiler started to bring motion to the motionless construct. The Techniks were practically radiating nervousness but Mikado stood resolute. She had run the numbers for days on end going over every single check and preparing for every contingency to ensure this experiment would work. She put her pride on this one, and she would see her hypothesis proven right as she brought a speaking cone to her mouth. “Initiate start sequence, engage the Railley Line interface.”  Only a handful of people had ever actually seen the Railley Line be used in person, but slowly the tendrils of wispy energy began to rise from the feet of the Carriage, the faintest outline of the line visible on the ground. Wards placed along the length of hull began to glow red hot in response to the mounting magics surrounding the construct. Was the deep thrumming that was slowly increasing in volume coming from the Locomorrigan, or from the magic being used? As the volume seemed to become near deafening, Fare gunned the engine and started to lope forward. Behind the blast shield, the research team donned their protective goggles in sequence. “Initializing jump in three, two, ONE!”  Even with all the preparation Mikado put in place, the shockwave of a few tons of mech suddenly accelerating beyond the speed of sound blew them off their feet, the crack of the jump echoing around the valley and the trail of fire burning in its passage with the smell of heated metal in its wake. And then a deep, anticipating silence as the echos died slowly and the fires burned themselves out. Mikado intensely starred at the distant hillside, did it work? Did Fare make it? She was gambling a lot on this but even her extensive knowledge didn’t account for how tricksey magic can be, and then the signal came in. S-U-C-C-E-S-S  (The experiment was a success, the Locomorrigan in the hands of an experienced Railley practitioner has the ability to travel along the Railley Lines like they can, although the size of the engine restricts what Leylines they can used to travel along. But just as important if not more so, by tying the immense power of the engine to the Mailcoach fraternity the engine can become taboo to use against other Choolainn in war. It is going to be a lot of time before another engine like the Locomorrigan can be built, and there are still some kinks in terms of power sources and materials to work out, but so far Mikado’s Great Work is surpassing all tests and expectations within the Hinterlands, and even beyond.)  This would have been the point in the story, where the turn around happened. Where everything clicked and the silly underdog team that were just getting started learning the ropes came together in big montage to finally beat the stuck up prep school team in the battle of the bands.  This was not turning out to be one of those stories. She had acquired her volunteers to set out but, it wasn’t coming together, no matter what she tried or what they tried or how much she was putting into this it wasn’t coming together. And eventually, she heard the words she was almost expecting to hear and yet was dreading the whole time.  “Ms. Roja, this isn’t going to work.” Salsa who had collapsed into a chair after a long, and fruitless day of training seemed to just stare absently at the person who just spoke. “We appreciate the time we have spent with you, and all the things we did together it was, it was fun but you haven’t slept over the past few days have you?” “No it’s fine, just one more attempt an-” “We’ve been called back to the Pole, the others have already left, but I wanted you to hear from us ‘Thank you for at least trying’.” And then, it was just her.  Maybe she should have been a lot angrier than she currently felt, all that time, all that effort, and it amounted to nothing, the dance troupe was a solo act now just her up on the stage to show her skills off to the world. But the fire that she felt when she set out for the Ohmian enclave was guttering, and despite what she was trying to deny she had been skipping meals and missing sleep to put her everything into this. And now she was tired, the length of the journey to Cincospice seemed too much effort, better to wait on the cart roads and catch a ride home and then maybe she can try next year…  And yet...  There was, a third option. (The Ohmian Dance Troupe doesn’t make it to Cincospice, out of their obligations to their Collective and concern for Salsa’s health they turned back and went home. They have in the course of the journey however learned Rudimentary Calientango, they know the steps and movements but not enough to be competent in practice. Salsa takes 2 Health damage from her critical failure, and vanished without a trace.)   An almost serene silence permeated the tent of Farrow the Gausserer, as he prepared for what he considered to be his biggest hunt yet. To his left his Grimoiarm had been cleaned for the first time in what felt like ages to ensure absolute minimal resistance. A carefully arranged selection of spikes, ball and other stranger looking implements for use with his spells, and of course his hat of office. It didn’t actually do anything particularly magical but what kind of Gausser Supreme wouldn’t have a fetchingly showy hat? It would be like a Chef without an apron, or Mason without a chisel! Putting all of these things together he gathered his supplies; reattached his arm, strode out of the tent and, met a crowd?  “We’ve heard that you are intending to slay another creature Master Gausserer?” Queried the main speaker, who got a narrow eyed stare from Farrow. “I have made my intentions clear, I have no time to entertain notions of-” “We wish to fight.” ...Huh?  Almost on cue, every single Ohmian present donned the headbands of their order and made their bows to the Master Gausserer “Before we took this mission of learning to the North lands each and every one of us trained in the arts of the Couloumbatant. We have been informed that the creature you are intending to hunt is a potential threat not just to these islands and to us, but of all of This Way.” “You have done so much for us in such a short span of time. So if we may give you our most humble of assistance in this matter, we will put this creature to rest.” “Anything, anything at all, just say the word.” (Such a task that you are wishing to perform will require a lot of set up to make happen, one does not just walk into into the wilderness and find a sleeping leviathan. However in light of your efforts and your strength, New Faraday is throwing its support behind you thoroughly, for these are not merely bookish scholars but martially trained bookish scholars and they are loyal to you personally)   “Okay, you want us to do what exactly?” Don Keynote was doing very well for himself! In the process of gathering stalwart companions to hunt down the mighty Lexiviathan he had come across a large contingent of his fellow Paladindexs! Now he just had to sway them to fight the good fight. “Why my friend deep beneath the Ocean there lies a great beast, and we intend to with the help of the Master Gausserer of New Faraday to slay it. And more importantly we believe how and where to find it!” A few of the Paladindexs in the back where Keynote couldn’t see were already giving each other the kind of look that silently suggests that the speaker in front of them was few paragraphs short of a full dissertation. The more senior members at the front however nodded along stoically, with one raising a hand. “And, to what end will this grand adventure play for our society?” “The recovery of the lost archives of course!” Keynote still had a fairly vague idea of what this would involve but he had a spheal and by his bindings he would stick to it! “A great many tomes before the destruction of the Old World could be regained! And is the acquisition of hidden knowledge not the cornerstone, bedrock and foundation of our noble and chivalrous society?” “Should we not leap at an opportunity to make the greatest discovery of our era gentlemen, what say you!” He had done it, the looks on the faces of the people in front of him had told him that he had their attention. Now all they had to do was; charter a boat, sail out into the Blood Sea, find and bring a giant sea creature to the surface, kill it, and then bring its body back to the shore and get someone to do whatever things they needed to do before it started going rotten and attracting scavengers and vermin, easy!  Out of earshot and eyeshot of Don Keynote the group came together in a huddle, heads pushed together in conspiratory discussion. “Is this man for real? We are honestly committing resources to hunt something that was just a story to scare little pamphlets before bed?” “Of course we aren’t” Said the more senior. “But you heard the report from the Blood Swamps, that daft idiot wandered into the most dangerous place on the mainland, and not only found the missing crew of the Literally Unsinkable but fought a Goreliath to a standstill by himself, for the entire night” “Wasn’t it literally just pounding him repeatedly into the swamp?” The speaker gave the dismissive hand wave of ignoring unimportant details and continued on. “The Grand Master gave us our orders, that moron might have a deathwish, but he’s also got the uncanny ability to stumble onto important discoveries. All we have to do is just humour his madness and follow him around, and we might just find something worthwhile in the process. Agreed?” There was the briefest of pauses. “Yeah okay.” (Keynote in preparation for the Lexiviathan hunt gains a loyal(?) and dedicated(?) contingent of Paladindexs who take him very seriously and are not just following him out of a morbid curiosity to see what happens to him next. No, really. Such a hunt of a great creature will need a lot of set up but as long as nothing possibly goes wrong this turn.) (Like a much larger problem occuring)  Before the question of what makes a Chosen can be answered, first we have to ask a simple question. What is a Person?  Scholars on both sides of the philosophical divide that makes up the Encyclopi have expended reams and reams of paper in theorizing one way or another on the nature of being, and the concept of sentience but what has been begrudgingly accepted by most parties is this. People all at one point or another came from animals, although the scant records available from the Old World implicate that it was the Gods themselves who accelerated the process along, without any evidence to the contrary we can only assume this process has also occurred to the people of Elsewhere. But what hasn’t happened, is the emergence of Heroes.  Heroes as of current Encyclopi thought are People who have been touched or infused or other influenced in some way by a God, they had greatly increased lifespans and a greater degree of power than other People. But the issue at hands are they very explicitly seemed to require the presence of a God to create and there haven’t been any Gods for over a century, so than what explains the near-supernatural feats that have been reported so far? It would help if she had some sort of sample of their blood to run a few tests that she was shown some one time.  If only by, some sort of circumstance where he was otherwise out of commission due to injuries sustained as part of his duties could she have acquired a few samples for later analysis. If only a fastidious scholar who was caring for this injured Paladindex took some time to bottle some of the excess fluids that came out of him whilst she was changing bandages. And if only she was running this test the entire time whilst they were travelling because this was a question that was picking at her ever since all those reports started coming in about, People surviving things that should have killed them or killing great monsters by themselves. The process of separating Blood into its components was not easily understood but it was possible it just took time. If only someone was that forethoughtful because they might have stumbled upon a very surprising discovery.  There was no mistaking what she was looking at no matter how she wanted to consider the evidence. This was Ocean, this was pure, undiluted primordial chaos she was looking at, it shouldn’t have even been possible for the Jar to contain it and yet here it was staring her in the face. Far more senior scholars than her have been trying everything to get what she had her hands on right now and she managed it on a fluke. But was this the cause of their power, or was it a side effect? It had been theorized that the Wisps and Gods alike were in some way made of the Ocean itself, but if that was the case then what did that make Keynote? Perhaps she should- She stopped, there was a very slight noise that caught her attention. It was a clock, a very faint tick but the only clock she had on her person was.  (Salsa has made a discovery about Keynote and by extension the other Chosen, they aren’t entirely People anymore and seem to be partially made of Ocean the element of creation and chaos. Now what they could be called at this point is up to Sara but more importantly what will you do with this information? Your careful research has increased your Basic Pagentry to Advanced Pagentry, you’ve discovered something that is potentially very important, but why it might be is up to you.) (Also that clock that you suspected might be counting down to something very bad happening just struck. But what could the possible cause be?) ---  It was supposed to be the best competition yet. The turn of the century spurred the creative sphere of the Scovilla to grander and greater heights than before, new talent and old talent were sparking off each other to create a musical menagerie the likes that had never been seen since the foundation of the Picante Musica Bardic Colleges. And then there was the very last act of the day that had signed on literally at the last minute. It was a solo act, the woman in the cloak couldn’t be seen very well under it but she promised it would be a show to remember. No one gave it any other thought. So at the closing end of the day this strange tall figure, strode up onto the stage to a quiet and expecting audience but seemingly had no visible instrument on her person, or perhaps it was under that cloak and then they saw what was under that cloak  Horror, revulsion, disgust, was the thing on stage even a Person anymore? Was this some kind of sick joke, some cheap ploy for shock value? And the way it smiled sent shivers down the audiences spine. There were already some Pimentora guards out of eyeshot surreptitiously moving around backstage in case something happened and then it spoke. “Oh if you thought this is terrible.” The creature rasped. “You’re not going to believe what happens next. Right about… Now.” The Clock struck This was not the clock in the town square this was something else it was almost deafening as the dolorous almost dirge-esque tones of an unseen bell, they were not aware of it right now but even as far north as the Encyclopi islands to the deep south of the Choolainn hinterlands they heard it to. Everyone remembered where they were when the Clock stuck, because of what happened next. The festival goers looked around in mounting bewilderment as the ground began to shake. “Viewers may be advised the following few moments are going to contain graphic violence, immense terror and the end of This Way.” “A prison of centuries! A fragment of frightening ferocity thrashing this world!”  “A harsh and bitter truth for you all! We are not the new peoples reclaiming a broken world, we’re inmates trapped in a prison of the world!”  “Claw for survival! Plead for salvation! Laugh! Laugh at the nonsense of it all, laugh as the world tumbles around you! Laugh until you choke.” “And all this time we were planting on its corpse! And now in this new century they’ve come to collect! Know him by his name.”  --- The horns blew out from the Hold of Clan Anorak, the Roughnecks who had been waiting for this signal jumped into action, grabbing their hammers and rushing to the walls. “Scovilla at the gates!” Yelled the watchman. “They’re running from… What in the unholy delay!?”  It had been barely a few hours since that unholy racket of a bell was heard across the Hinterlands, several Mailcoaches had already been dispatched as the lords scrambled in confusion but all across the land they could see that, thing in the distance. Already a lot of the Scovilla settlements closer to the border had evacuated into their lands, a few barons had tried turning them away at first but not after what they saw they were running from.  The Techniks who had been taking their breaks when this entire mess transpired quickly found and located their boss. After all in times of confusion they had always trusted Mikado’s judgement. ”This ain’t looking great boss, the Baron is in a complete dither about what to do about the refugees and the monsters, and we haven’t got long to decide a solution. What are your orders?” --- Attracted to the concentration of life, the siege beast made for the walls of Libraria in great thundering steps. The reports that were coming in from the settlements were dire, Cincospice was gone and after that abominable plant had sprouted it started spreading its root to the surrounding settlements and it was growing fast, the settlements that weren’t quick enough to start evacuating were already overrun, and now the growths had made their way towards the city. Claws dug into the walls, the beast reared its grotesque visage of the walls and-  Ripped from the wall by the force of the impact, the beast squashed a great number of the fiends it had brought with it, but as it came to a stop some smaller monsters had already clambered over the walls. “Honestly… I joined you all to hunt sea life and now this has happened.”  “Well I will not lie Master Gausserer, this does look like quite the unfortunate situation to have arrived in but.” And with his spear held high he began to stride towards the conflict. “I, Don Keynote, The Manuscript of La Manual, having arrived in the nick of time will combat this foe directly! Come compatriots the city needs some heroics this day!” As the Paladindex charged off, the members of his cadre quickly following behind one of the Coulombantants turned to Farrow. “We are but a few hands in this situation, we could aid in the evacuation of the civilians or we could possibly assist Mr Keynote and the defense effort, what are your intentions Master Farrow?” (The clock has struck, a dormant Atrocity has awakened!) (This being of terrible power wishes to sow terror on the land for a purpose as yet unknown, it will take a protracted effort to bring down this monster before it causes the end of This Way. The quick action of Farrow and Keynote has at least bloodied its attempted invasion of Libraria on awakening, but it will take more than that to rid this overgrown houseplant from the world. The creature is rooted in the ruins of Cincospice and is currently focusing it’s attention on Libraria as the closest city it’s new home.) (Salsa has also transformed into an Abomination as a result of her reaching zero HP from a critical failure. She is no longer a player character, and this will not be the last you see of her any time soon, especially as the atrocity’s mortal herald.) Rules Update posted:Critical Failures that result in the death of a Chosen, will transform them into an Abomination. These twisted agents of the Atrocities will seek to cause chaos and destruction until they are slain, all for the goal of accelerating the awakening of their fell masters. 
TheNabster fucked around with this message at 03:24 on Apr 25, 2019 |
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Apr 24, 2019 14:35
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  Good luck, CHOSEN! I'll root for one of you!
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Apr 24, 2019 15:21
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What, you want us to make this worse? Wispings: 4 Unused: - EDIT: See below. Jossar fucked around with this message at 12:57 on May 6, 2019 |
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Apr 24, 2019 15:24
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"Ia, Ia, Cth- *cough* i mean Iä! Iä! Ham'Ush'Tork fhtagn! Burned Sovereign of pepper, abyssal lord of spice!" I do believe this is going to be very interesting. Eldritch gods paired with an abundance of banes? This is gonna be good.
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Apr 24, 2019 15:31
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Abstain Wisp Points: 3 -> 4 Wisps Remaining: -
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Apr 24, 2019 20:35
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Wisp Age 1: Action 4 [ Actions: 3 -> 4 ][ Bless: 1 -> 0 ][ Bane: 1 ][ Abstain: 0 ] Spicy seeds of carnage, sown throughout the blasted, blood-spattered beaches. A Blessing upon the lowest roller fighting the Atrocity.
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Apr 24, 2019 20:51
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 Sara Vellum, Chosen of Curiosity. Advanced Archiveology, Basic Pagentry, Basic Wordsmithing 4/4 "Aiee!" "Giant monster!" "It will doom us all!" "Woe be upon the Peoples, for Calamity is at hand!" "Hide your children!" "I wonder what would happen if i re-wrote myself with Don's blood?" For most Encylopi, indeed, for most Peoples of This Way, the Atrocity and its accompanying Abomination heralded the end of the world. For Keynoté, it was his destiny. For Sara Vellum, it was an inconvenient obstacle that threatened to shake her various chemicals from their shelf-spaces in her lab. Well, maybe not her lab. A Lab, certainly. But it wasn't like High Thesí and the other Scrollars were using it at the moment. Most of them had either fled to hardened book bunkers or met unfortunate The Ends at the hands of chili beasts. A few however, had stayed behind. And a small percentage of those were even desperate enough to help her. They flitted around the room, pulling levers and taking notes as she siphoned her own ink into vials and seperated Keynote's samples into others of different dilutions. Now, if her theorizing was correct (and she was pretty sure it was), this "raw ocean ink" that she had gathered could, properly applied, re-write history. But that was dangerous and mad, and history had already showed itself to be terrible anyway, so instead she settled for just re-writing herself. Basic Wordsmithing to become more powerful than I can possibly imagine: 1d20 = 18 With an exquisite Quillipepper pen, filled with ocean, she began the arduous process of wordsmithing her very self, her capabilities, knowledge and powers... increasing their potential exponentially. If there was any ink left after she was done, she'd consider empowering her motley crew as well.
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Apr 26, 2019 17:01
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 Don Keynoté, The Manuscript of La Manual, Chosen of Lost Causes, 2/4 The battle was arduous, even with the might of the Paladindex en masse. The battle was hard-fought, even with their Ohmian allies pitching in as best as Farrow decreed. The battle was not one that could truly be won, spelling the doom of This Way and its sentient peoples in the face of an unending tide of monsters. It was hopeless: All but a madman would surely give in to defeat and despair. But Don Keynoté, when every Chiliconcabra in reach had been speared, blasted or stopped cold with riffle volleyumes, had his eyes set upon the horizon. Upon the Doom of Cincospice and its flailing tendrils, the source of the invasion. Upon the Atrocity that would end them all. He raised his spear, and then his voice. "My friends! My friends, my countrymen, fellow citizens and good neighbours all, we cannot win here! The source of these monstrosities is growing ever stronger, ever larger. Fighting a defensive war, fighting an endless rearguard action will mean the end for our entire civilisation, and the ruination of This Way and all its people. But, there is still hope! We can still win this, though the path to victory is long, arduous, and leads right there." He gestured with his spear at the distant wrongness, a forceful indignation in his gesture. "We are fortunate to have here some of the bravest and boldest monster hunters in all the civilised world. If there is any hope, it rests with us, and it rests with hunting a monster that we can see from the next country over. We must strike! We must drive towards our enemy, cutting a swathe through the forces it sends at our city, following their path as we carve it anew out of them. We shall grant the defenders here relief by so doing, and we shall strive to reach the gargantuan thing and bring it down, any way we can! This is our last, desperate, and best shot. Who is with me?" Together with Farrow and our Cohorts, carve a swathe through the monsters, get to the Atrocity and force a showdown: 1d20 5 AJ_Impy fucked around with this message at 21:16 on Apr 26, 2019 |
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Apr 26, 2019 20:31
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 Mikado Type, Chosen of Maintenance (HP: 2/4) Expert Engineering, Basic Doomsaying, Basic Big and Tough She'd expected this from the Choolainn. Her own people, fiendishly clever at finding the most existentially threatening weapons around and turning them into cudgels. She'd expected it from the Encyclopi -- This Way's premiere source of forbidden knowledge -- and from the Ohmians -- that hive-mind crap would end in tears or massacres, she just knew it. In her way, Mikado had even expected it from the Hemogoblins, whose "power for sacrifice" shtick and Person-eating history suggested a wicked and horrible potential. But really, thought Mikado, watching horrible off-orange forms gyrating towards the Baron's gates, the Scovilla were going to cause the end of all things? The artists were going to destroy civilization by meddling in that which People Were Not Meant To Know? Really? She'd gone to Technikal school for years on end when she could've gotten to the heart of People's destructive potential with a liberal arts degree? Technik Team posted:”This ain’t looking great boss, the Baron is in a complete dither about what to do about the refugees and the monsters, and we haven’t got long to decide a solution. What are your orders?” Mikado shook off the fog of shock and stepped into her standard fog of aggravation. The Baron of Clan Anorak could invest all that in constructing superweapons to slaughter Choolainn, but he couldn't be arsed to act in the face of a Pepper-horror incursion, i.e. the most eminently ethical-violence-enabling situation imaginable? How the hell was that man a Baron of anything? Seeing the panic and distraction on the Techniks' faces, she rang the nearest pillar like a bell with her hammer, ensuring every beady eyelight was on her. "Alright, morons, this en't a fight against People. People would be smart enough to back off instead'a bashing themselves to pieces against our walls. This is us fightin' entropy, with Pepper-thing stand-ins for enough chaos to leave the Timetable itself off-by-one!" "But that's big picture. Move yer feet and let the thinking come later. Put down ladders, get the refugees up over the walls, and you tell the Baron's Roughmechs they don't take risks, they don't overextend, they don't wade out into tha thick of it to die with a battle hymn on their lips, 'cause that's a great way to die with a mouth full of hot sauce, and they're not singing poo poo through that. Their job and ours is savin' lives, no more, no less. Anyone who needs further explanation can get it beaten into their skulls any drat time, understand?!" At their ragged "aye," Mikado nodded, then moved as quickly as she could, body sizzling with green flames. A brief confab with a refugee confirmed the identity of the beast across the border: some idiot's experimental body gyrations had summoned a massive Pepper-Atrocity to wreak havoc. Easily ten times the size of its summoner, who was herself three times the size of an average Scovillan specimen, and visible from here. So that was... not something she could handle on foot. Mikado's muffler still hurt on cold days; she didn't think she had another refinery explosion in her. Instead, she sought out Fare, who had a look on his face like he wasn't paid enough for this. "Take Locomorrigan on the Eckspressi line," she told him, not waiting for him to tell her no. "And a tankard of railcoal, and an empty lymph vat. Head up to Scovilla lands. Grab as many refugees as you can, stuff 'em in the vat, come back, drop 'em off and refuel when she starts windin' down. There's plenty cockpit room for a few more People if there's horrors bearing down on 'em and ye can't fit any more in yer vat." "You cannot possibly pay me enough for --" "Switch yer track or I'll switch it for ye. What do you think yer appointed rounds mean, if it's not keepin' People safe? Did ye think the Locomorrigan was born to moulder in a garage, instead of savin' lives as can't be saved with the mere power of one Choolainn?" Mikado took him by the shoulders and stared directly into his eyes, enunciating her point as clearly as she possibly could. "Fare. Listen to me. You mustn't run away." "'I mustn't run away?' Why, pray tell, is that?" "Because there en't much of anywhere safer than here, if this thing eats all the world by tomorrow morning." Fare held her gaze for a second, then sighed and let his head drop. "...alright, drat it, I mustn't run away. But I better get paid double for this." Fare stuffed himself into Locomorrigan, booted it up and fastened it to the Eckspressi line, while Mikado directed a team of Techniks to bring out one of the Baron's experimental weapons -- a length of ralium he'd shaped in hopes of replicating Gausserers' cannons. It was too huge and impractical for any one Person to use, so he'd scrapped it; hopefully, the Locomorrigan would be different. Ideally, Fare would only use it in self-defense, though she wouldn't complain if he tried to put some holes in the Pepper-thing from a great distance. ("What is this thing?" "Well, it's a drat great length of rail that fires like a gun. Me and the Baron's R&D team called it the Ley Linecher.") She saw him off, vanishing into the distance, and quietly wondered whether she'd just condemned a young Choolainn hero -- because that was what he was, in the end -- to an early grave. And then Mikado Type joined the siege. She'd stocked extra ralium for Locomorrigan's repairs, plus general projects and the Baron's plans for an eventual fleet of Carriages (before she'd made them Mailcoach gear); as far as she was concerned, all of that was going into the defense. Teams of Techniks passed girders arm-over-arm, bucket-brigade style, and she forced them into place on the walls, producing makeshift supplements to the Baron's ill-maintained battlements. They wouldn't hold against anyone competent enough to aim for their weaknesses; luckily enough, monsters weren't competent, pretty much by definition. They roared and stabbed poo poo with their monster claws, it wasn't Carriage science. After that, heating a girder left it soft and pliable enough that a few Old-World-enhanced hammer beats deformed it into something like a hook; then she took up a station on the walls of the Baron's hold and went fishing for People. Scovilla approaching at speed found themselves yanked off their feet like they'd bombed their talent show acts and hurled headlong into barrels of excess lymph (also for Locomorrigan). Anyone extracted in a state of anything less than total panic got metal shoved into their hands, and instructions to barricade whatever looked like it needed barricading. A few brave Scovilla, versed in Choolainn culture, managed to get their fellows into harmony with the rising Choolainn war song, a perfect coordination around the principles of Innovation in the face of death: the Hymn to Breaking-Strain. And Mikado sang, too, in her rough, off-kilter voice, even as her body burned bright with effort: "Oh, veiled and secret Table Whose paths we seek in vain, Be with us in our hour Of overthrow and pain; That we - by which sure token We know Thy ways are true— In spite of being broken, Because of being broken May rise and build anew Stand up and build anew." Mikado vs. Entropy: 1d20 12 Poltergrift fucked around with this message at 22:11 on Apr 26, 2019 |
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Apr 26, 2019 21:50
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-1 to Don Keynoté Wispings: 4 Remaining: Abstain Let's try to get some more abominations if we can. 
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Apr 27, 2019 10:49
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Theantero fucked around with this message at 19:30 on Apr 30, 2019 |
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Apr 27, 2019 12:58
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Abstain
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Apr 27, 2019 13:10
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-1 Don Keynoté Wispings: 4 Remaining: Abstain
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Apr 27, 2019 13:22
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Chatrapati posted:Let's try to get some more abominations if we can.  Abominations only occur on a natural one: downvoting here makes them less likely.
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Apr 27, 2019 13:24
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-1 to Don Keynoté He's really good at taking a beating, but has mixed results at doing anything else. Wispings: 4 Remaining: -
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Apr 27, 2019 15:22
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+1 to Don Keynoté Wisp Points: 3 -> 4 Wisps Remaining: -
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Apr 27, 2019 20:49
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-1 Don Keynote WP: 4 WR: +
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Apr 28, 2019 06:17
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+1 Mikado Wispings: 4 Remaining: -
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Apr 28, 2019 06:30
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 4/4 Expert Gaussery, Advanced Polarization, Basic Murder Well, this was an unexpected and somewhat unwelcome turn of events. On one hand, Farrow was quickly learning that with great power came great obligation. Though he didn't care a whit for this city or its inhabitants, he could hardly slip away in the chaos. Not with the two strange Encyclopi watching. Especially not with the other Ohmians watching, imperceptibly judging. And what would the beast do after it was done here? Head for The Pole? Unacceptable, utterly unacceptable. Farrow had *plans* for The Pole. On the other hand, Farrow mused as he lifted one of the Pepper beasts into the air and spiked it back down with a wave of repulsive force, killing these things was delightfully fun. How they shrieked when smashed into walls, like music! What a lovely mess they made as they splattered! Farrow's hands were "tied" on the matter, and the Keynote fellow was correct. The longer the abomination was allowed to fester, the harder it would be to deal with. It had to die and it had to die *now*. Farrow made an approximation of a throat being cleared, "I am with you, Paladindex Keynote. Show me to an suitable vantage point. I will rain down the wrath of the heavens upon it!" The Columbatants posted:“We are but a few hands in this situation, we could aid in the evacuation of the civilians or we could possibly assist Mr Keynote and the defense effort, what are your intentions Master Farrow?” Farrow stroked his beard as he considered the optimal course of action. Wasteful to put them at the front. Some of the beasts, Farrow noticed in the course of his brutality, were filled with juices that popped and sizzled in open air and left etch marks in whatever surface they landed on. The senior Gausserer did have an idea, though. "If you've all been trained as Columbatants...", Farrow stated authoritatively, "Then you've all had your Potential tested, yes? Which of you had the highest and how much?" The scholars-turned-militia looked among themselves and silently deliberated. There was an awkward moment as they remembered Farrow couldn't hear them. The highest, Greig, had a surprising amount of Potential. The rest were decent to middling. It only took Farrow a few seconds to run some arcane calculations, they weren't Gausserers, but they'd have to do. "Greig, Berber, Fabin, and Pirrho, you're coming with me. Fetch the sealed jug from my tent and my brush. The rest of you, assist in the evacuation. Let no one say the Ohmians had hearts of stone this day." - - - The bluff was tall enough to make scaling difficult and had excellent lines of sight; they could clearly see the abomination pulsating in the distance. The four Columbatants dutifully stood watch as Farrow dipped his brush into the jug of ritually conductive paste and gracefully drew the sacred Gausserer's symbols. First came the repulsive wards, both to keep out any who would dare interrupt and to modulate the forces generated within. Then the circle he would stand in, followed by the runes of Capacitance. He connected all the constituent parts with thick, flowing lines, adding a few flourishes both for safety and to demonstrate the pride he had in his work. Ah, he hadn't drawn one this beautiful since the day of the Experiment.  "It is prepared.", a pleased Farrow crooned, "Tell me, have any of you participated in a Rite of Capacitance before?" The confused looks he received told him all he needed to know. Of course they hadn't. Time for a basic safety lecture then, despite Farrow's baser instincts. When Capacitor rites went wrong, they tended to govery wrong. "Right, so all of you will be standing on the Runes of Capacitance, across from each other, in parallel. Greig will be standing on the one marked with a one, Pirrho on the one with a two. Berber and Fabin, you may take the other two. When I begin to charge, you will feel a force drawing your Potential into the Circuit. You *will* relax and allow it to take what it requires, no more, no less, and no resisting it. If at any point you begin to feel pain or lightheadedness, you *will* notify me so I can disengage you and refactor the Circuit. Do not try to be a Hero and give more than you have. We stand more to lose than just your life. Am I perfectly clear?" The Columbatants solemnly nodded and took their places. Farrow stepped into the central circle and engaged it with a tap of his foot. Farrow removed a jagged magspike, designed to create great, bleeding wounds that did not heal easily, from his cape and loaded it into his Grimoiarm. He leveled the deadly sorcerous implement at the Atrocity in the distance and began passing his and his allies combined Potential into it, making sure to do it slowly enough for the others to ease into it. Not that he cared, but there was little margin for errors with Capacitors. "READY?" "READY!" "AIMED!" "[96-COIL-HEAVEN-SPLITTING-DISCHARGE]" A sound like thunder. "AGAIN!" The sound of the Grimoiarm repeatedly firing masked the maniac laughter coming from the center of the circle, but if anyone asked, Farrow would say it was his way of coping with the obviously enormous stress. At one point Farrow caught a glimpse of Keynote in the scrum. It would be so easy to snuff him out. But what was the point. The fool would kill himself easily enough. Commence Bombardment: 1d20+1 9 paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at 05:33 on Apr 30, 2019 |
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Apr 30, 2019 05:28
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Wisp Age 1: Action 4 [ Actions: 3 -> 4 ][ Bless: 1 -> 0 ][ Bane: 1 ][ Abstain: 0 ] +1 to Farrow
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Apr 30, 2019 13:40
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-1 to Farrow As much as the idea of saving as many chosen as possible appeals to me, the idea of more eldritch entities roaming the world appeals more. So, time for a nudge towards that outcome. Whisp Points: 4 0 Boons/1 Abstain/0 Bane Remaining
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Apr 30, 2019 14:35
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+1 to Farrow why not (changing earlier vote)
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Apr 30, 2019 19:29
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And a +1 to Farrow. Wisp'yd: 4
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Apr 30, 2019 20:38
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Abstain 4 Wisps
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May 1, 2019 18:22
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 Ham'Ush'Tork, Sovereign of Pepper HP: ???/??? Hours after it's ascension, the Sovereign had claimed it's kingdom in the loamy soil of the Pepper Plains, it's roots digging deep into the earth as it's courtiers and emissaries brought the surely grateful and willing populace into it's regal embrace. Only, there seemed to be pushback from some of the outer lying settlements of it's de jure realm, it waved it's soldiers in that direction it would not be an issue. He could just reach over and squash this mild resistance like the gnats they were as soon as his roots were firmly entrenched in that region, it was merely a matter of. White hot pain, a formerly distant sensation to it's regal personage stabbed into it's side from a distant source. The Sovereign felt, affronted that caused mild distress to it's being and the worst part was the source seemed out of his immediate swatting distance. This would not stand. If these insects would seek to do him harm then he will have to come back later. HURT... Reaching it's influence deep into the soil, the fertile plains that had once been the abundant bread basket of This Way now powered it's control of Pepper. With a great wrenching, and a spreading of seeds the earth began to quake as the seedlings started to sprout. Ham'Ush'Tork is upset that you shot him from a distance that he cannot hit you at, and is knowledgeable that his initial invasion is being annoyingly held off right before the end of the age. So he chooses to raise from the earth around his current influence a great dome of thorny entwined vines to shield his lands from the outside, and trap the left behind inhabitants of the Scovilla within. 1d20 = 14 TheNabster fucked around with this message at 13:26 on May 6, 2019 |
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May 6, 2019 11:14
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Not welcome! Vote changed to -1 Ham'Ush'Tork.
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May 6, 2019 12:56
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+1 to Ham'Ush'Tork
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May 6, 2019 13:25
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Jossar posted:Vote changed to -1 Ham'Ush'Tork. Me too
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May 7, 2019 23:37
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 Even as the world seems to end, and the forces from outer dark enclose on our home, the Encylopi do what they would do best. Experiment.  The Ocean out of everything else that the Encyclopi had experimented with was the one substance that had received the most attention from all sides and yet nearly nothing was known about it. It was where Wisps came from (probably), it’s possibly the stuff that everything came from (potentially) but the hows, whys and wherefores could only be speculated upon as no one had been successful in bringing a pure sample back to the isles without it turning into something else or disappearing. Maybe it was something in the ink that prevented it from mixing, it would be something to consider later. The thing to consider now is how exactly does one rewrite themselves? Sometimes the best solution to an unanswerable question is a silly one. She tried to write in her head.  A lot of things happened in a few seconds as the assistants watched in nervous puzzlement. To the outside it looked as if Sara poked herself with the quill of Ocean she had, froze rock still for several seconds and then keeled over onto the floor.  To Sara it couldn’t be described with words, or maybe it could be described with words, words that underlay creation in a language she couldn’t understand. No, no she could understand it but she couldn’t read it and she wasn’t sure why. What she was looking at now was herself rolled out into words. Lines of lines of everything that was Sara was laid out in front of her, and in her hand the quill and the ink that she made from Keynote. With the utmost care she began to try and write into herself.  She remembers the first time she learned how to bind a book, the first time she uncovered an old relic with her own hands, but she remembers the first time she took up the spear, the first time she made that pledge to protect the Isles from the threats without. Someone’s entire lifetime was being wrote alongside her own in this space between spaces and it wasn’t her lifetime she knew but now, it was becoming hers. She kept writing, there was something here that she was doing that was starting to make sense, if she could just, put her finger on it-   (Sara successfully managed to write select aspects of Don Keynote’s power into her own being, gaining Advanced Papercutting, Basic Bookbinding, and something else entirely unexpected. Basic Lore Magic) (If Spellbinding the Magic of Law could be considered to be the power to control, then Lore Magic will become the power to create, you’ve seen the underlying patchwork of creation if but for a moment and you can replicate it with care. You could in somes ways consider a Law Mage to be an Editor and a Lore Mage an Author.) (You’ve achieved something that no other Encyclopi has managed in since Ambisinistrous, what will you call your new magic?)  The Choolainn had waited a long drat time for this moment to come, but it wasn’t from where they’d thought it would be coming from. A lot of time spent behind walls and waiting for the clarion call of war to sound had put many of them on edge and then when the hordes of misshapen demons and creatures loped after the fleeing population of Scovilla, it was almost a relief that they finally got to cut loose.  And cut loose they did, they might not have shiny cohorts like the Paladindexes or the deadly martial arts of the Coulombatants but what they did have, was a lot of Hammers and society that had built itself for feuding and fighting.  The Baron and others would probably object Mikado letting outsiders into their walls and lands but that was a problem for later that she would deal with when the time came, but there was one thing she didn’t notice but many of the warriors did. She was on the walls shouting orders, getting her hands dirty and hammering the occasional dexterous demon that made it up the walls. The Baron was nowhere to be seen. Mikado was on the front and the Baron wasn’t there.  They saw the Locomorrigan on the field, built and designed by her as it cut a swathe through the disorganized mass of teeth and claws only to melt away when they tried to surround it. Every time the walls felt pressure from a push it was there to push back, something that they had scoffed at being used in combat was proving them wrong. Every time the creatures managed to clamber over the walls they were met with the hammers of the Choolainn and even a few errant swords of the Pimentora that were picked up The flood turned into a tide, and then the tide turned into a trickle as slowly the hordes stopped attacking and pulled back as the final nail was hammered into the battlements. It was a hard fought victory, but it was still a victory but then…  (Mikado’s quick thinking and the support of her Techniks has managed to save a lot of lives that otherwise might have been claimed by the incoming hordes, it was hard work that exhausted a lot of her materials but, she has the gratitude of the Southern Plains Scovilla and the respect of Clan Anorak’s Roughneck and Techniks as a result.) (But things are moving fast, what happens before the coming of the next age is anyone’s guess and Mikado may have placed herself in a position of importance in Choolainn society. The clans are watching, and they will be wondering what you will do.)  The man might have been an idiot in the eyes of many, but he was right at this point in time right now if they didn’t take on this overgrown houseplant and push them back from Libaria, then not just the islands but the world would be at risk! They had fought like tigers against the incoming horde to help the defenders drive back the hordes, pressing them to the walls, driving them from the street. They could do this, they could win! They could actually win here! The Monarch of all he surveyed saw this defiance and it showed them how it felt about such a statement.  It felt contempt. And it showed it as it locked it's baleful eyes with the squirming masses below with a hail of pepper fire.  Razor sharp seeds pierced through buildings and Paladindex alike. Even Keynote couldn't escape the barrage unscathed, he had already figured out that his body was far tougher than the norm but it wasn't invincible. And his spear was broken. And his shield was bent out of shape from taking a seed that would have taken his head off. And also he was surrounded by a very large number of angry pepper monsters as a result. This wasn't the best of times. (Keynote’s actions manage to help drive the creatures back from the inner walls of Libaria, however it was a hard fought victory that came at a steep price of many of the Paladindexes that came along with Keynote when the Atrocity decided it didn't like the cut of your jib. Keynote loses 1 HP for rolling below an 11.) But the open defiance of the foolish knight as he drew out the last remaining creatures, distracted the beast for just long enough. Morning finally came to the besieged defenders of Libaria. And it came on bolts of greased lightning and fried pepper.  As if a storm had swept the city the skies themselves seemed to strike down the besiegers the crack of thunder of Gaussery on display like never before echoed throughout the valley. Slowly but surely the hordes were being pushed back.  “Master Gausser! We can’t sustain this output for much longer!” “Not yet! We have one more attack we have to make against the beast itself!” One final shot and he had been saving the best for last. The jagged mag spikes had served their purpose but this, this was a round that was built for distance. The Grand Master herself had once as a demonstration to the clans of Choo-Choolainn at the end of the war, had used something similar to this to pierce the warbanner of Clan Irons from the tip of the Northern Pole to make a point, she was always one for actions speaking louder than words. And whilst Farrow might have been doubtful that even such as him could pull off a feat like that he was very sure of one thing. The Angry Houseplant that was causing him problems was a far larger target to hit than a flag. His grimorarm opened up to accept the spike as he leveled it on his distant foe. Now, how did it go again? Oh yes, it had one and one name only. “  ”The sky was parted, the boom was deafening, the Gausser and his apprentices were knocked from their feet from the blast. He was going to be sore after this for sure.  Not as sore as the creature was. The combined efforts of Keynote and Farrow have successfully repelled the initial assault from Ham’Ush’Tork. Barely. The cost to the defenders of Libaria was high and the damage sustained in the fighting would not be something that could be entirely repaired before another attack could commence. However… --- It was too late. Had the creature had more time this minor setback could have been dealt with, by an even greater show of force to sweep the resistance aside. But in its head the clock ticked, the grinding wheel of the ages was bringing this performance to an early close, it’s initial lighting attack blunted on multiple fronts it did the only thing it could have done with the time it had left. It bade a tactical retreat from the world at large.  The thorn thicket erupting from the earth reached leagues into the sky, nothing would get in and nothing would get out, so the Burned Sovereign of Pepper had decreed. And it would not forget this slight against it any time soon, to have been openly defied to have been struck from a distance! This was past inconsiderate and straight into unacceptable. the day that the Clock of Ages ground it’s way back to this wretched land there would be a reckoning. (The Cage of Thorns has been raised, the entire midsection of This Way has been cut off from the outside world, right not nothing can enter and nothing can leave. What happens at this point no one can be sure of but this was only the beginning of what was to come.)  CHAPTER 1, COMPLETE. --- Before we transition to what comes next, we will get down to the brass tacks of The Legacy. THE PANOPLY OF CHAMPIONS The things that get touched by the Ocean gain properties greater than their mere physical components. This was true of the Age of Gods, and it’s just as true with the Age of Chosen but the Chosen are beings of permanence, their essence does not get chipped away like a God and thus what they leave behind can be considered a little more robust.
All Chosen (Salsa Included) may either provide 3 words for what kind of Artifact they’d like, or provide an effect of their choosing. Artifacts starting out will be less powerful than God Remnants but still strong in their own right. TheNabster fucked around with this message at 00:56 on May 16, 2019 |
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May 16, 2019 00:49
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Enchanted, Orbiting, Stones. Io
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May 16, 2019 01:12
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Guardian, Fearless, Hope. Something for those who stand between monsters and the innocent, against insurmountable odds, and yet do not yield.
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May 16, 2019 01:39
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Survival, Permanence, Drive How could it be anything but the robot?
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May 16, 2019 02:15
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V̶̻͍͓o̦iḑ̬̩͚, Creation, Recklessness. The Quillmarillion.
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May 16, 2019 07:43
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Dress, Dance, Agility
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May 16, 2019 09:48
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Can I join as a spark now?
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May 16, 2019 21:26
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