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------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ BLOOD: 2 || COURAGE: 1 || GRACE: 2 || SENSE: -1 || WISDOM: 0 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ”I don’t know. But either way we get closer to what happened to that scrap heap.” Olan ain’t wrong about this. Nothing at all makes sense about where we are and what we’re doing. Best thing to do is roll with the punches until something starts to make sense. Right now, we’re not needing to fight for our lives, and for some reason the Wyrm’s being civil, even if I still can’t understand a word it’s saying. The toast I at least get. ”Chase it down.” And I do. pre:Bond with Sulhafah: Even if we can’t understand each other, we know we’re not enemies.
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# ? Oct 27, 2020 05:14 |
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# ? Apr 18, 2024 00:10 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +2 || GRA -1 || SEN +0 || WIS +2 Blessings: Strength[ ] || Speed[ ] || Glory[ ] || Power[ ][ ] Gear: Armor[ ] || Fuel[ ][ ][ ] Hilda: Crack Shot[ ] || Quick As A Bullet [ ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AQ24wuylqI Branwen cocks an eyebrow at the machine as it figuratively tenses itself to be ready. "What a philosophical question for something designed for 'a veneer of civility and unspeakable violence.' Alright, I'll fully introduce myself. Branwen McAlister. I'm many things to many people. A daughter, a sister, a cleric, a soldier of the faith, an appointed champion. And I imagine I'm more things to many other people with lower opinions of my words and deeds. But with all that to think over and consider; to answer your very direct, literal, and not at all philosophical question, I am Bombarda's Chosen. Formavit, shaped by her Glory. What that makes you and I remains your choice, but I have seen and faced what the Dominion replaced you with and you are far from being the only one here capable of unspeakable violence." With that, Branwen falls into a parade rest and glances over to Ana. "I didn't keep up with any of the musical stuff after... Y'know. So I won't be much help for any kinda playing. Let me know if you need somethin' moved, I can play roadie well enough."
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# ? Oct 29, 2020 14:29 |
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Branwen, Krishga, Anastasia The machine stares at Branwen for a long moment, unspeaking. As Branwen mention playing roadie, Nine turns his back to you all and you see the Argus units suddenly spring to life and begin scuttling off at a rapid clip, surging up the tower. One of them retakes the spot the initial sniper was perched while other continue up higher. The rest soon vanish behind the tower's curve, probably to take up similar positions there. The Talosi remain where they are, thankfully. "This discussion is now concluded. Enter the tower. Inform its inhabitants that in twenty-four standard hours as measured by the movement of this planet's primary star, I am seizing the weapon. Anything that attempts to interfere will be eliminated. If you and the inhabitants wish to surrender, I will be willing to allow you to parley with my commanding unit in twenty-two hours so that you may sue for clemency. Further attempts to interface with this unit or its subordinate units before the appointed time will be viewed as hostile action." Something has clearly rattled him. His laissez-faire attitude towards this whole endeavor has entirely vanished. An involuntary twitch from him at the word "formavit" certainly suggests a clue, though. Konas Your new friend drains the glass in two mighty sips, and pours himself another. Clearly he approves. As you let yourself relax a bit, you see a blur whip by out of your peripheral vision. Following it, you see one of those crystal orb machines taking a position some thirty feet above and to the side of this outcropping and grow still. Scant seconds later you see a couple more scurrying up past it, heading even higher. There does seem to be a line they do not cross though - not marked in any way that you can see, but they do not dare approach the higher echelons of this great edifice. "Sådana oroliga besökare som spårar smuts över hela vårt hem. Du kan vara säker på att de inte gav mig något vin." The chef has an annoyed expression on his face and it takes an act of will for him to set the crystal goblet down gently and not smash it to bits in a fit of pique. What does everyone do?
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# ? Oct 30, 2020 04:07 |
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There are several tense seconds after Branwen finishes speaking and 1001’s entire manner, such as it is, changes when Krishga firmly grasps the Maximus’ controls, anxiously glazing from her companions to the unexpected sight of the previously unflappable warmachine being perturbed, like a metal pressure cooker quietly about to burst. And then 1001 speaks, and it is obvious to Krishga that something has stolen the personality from him, suppressed it, made him into something a cold warmonger would want out of a robotic soldier: unthinking obedience. Still, she breathes out, for at least 1001 and his army are not trying to kill them. Yet. The Maximus turns, and behind its viewport, Krishga gives Anastasia and Branwen a look, as if to ask what they should do. Inside the Mk III, the goblin takes a few breaths, rolls her shoulders and shakes off her nervousness. “Time to meet the locals in the tower, huh? Jump on and grab on tight. Sounds like we have a bit of a deadline on our show, Anastasia.” Making light of all this, I guess. I’m not sure I want to do a followup on Branwen's impressive boasts anyway, not the time. I’m no chosen of the Gods either, not that I want to be. Still. If all of this doesn’t work, the next time I’ll meet 1001, we’ll likely be trying to kill each other. The Maximus is built for combat, it’s true, but fighting a person that doesn’t get a choice is not something I’m happy about. gently caress slavers. “1001!” Krishga looks him firmly in the eyes, odd as they are. “You should still watch us, listen to us once we’re up there. It’s going to be for the people up there, but also for you. Against what might happen here, and against the one that has you wrapped in chains.” She cocks her head. “You said it yourself. These locals are quite fascinating. It’d be in your interest to pay close attention to what they and we are up to, just so you have the whole picture before all of this begins, huh? One final thing.” The Maximus points at 1001’s arm with one finger. “Those kinds of chains are meant to be broken.” nil. fucked around with this message at 12:11 on Oct 31, 2020 |
# ? Oct 30, 2020 20:00 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +1 || GRA +2 || SEN -1 || WIS +0 STR •• | CNG ⚬⚬ | TUF •• | WPN •••• FOOD ••⚬ | BOOZE •• | TRAP ••• | GEAR •⚬ --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Great. There goes our veneer of harmlessness. Hell, I twitch when she says 'formavit,' not that I don't already know what happened to her but it's kind of a word with some stigma back home. A very specific social view of the elves who choose, or are chosen, to undergo that dreadful metamorphosis. Look at you, lil' raisin Bran. So far from the fiery little girl I used to know. You're still you in there, but...I really hope you know what it is your Goddess wants with you. I can hear Krishga's nerves even through her vox-caster. Sure the lady's apparently got a deathwish, but she's got guts of iron to keep trying to talk to Nine after an ultimatum like that. Warwick's clearly got his volition in a vicegrip. No need to keep pushing my luck - I just give Nine one last long, grave, searching look before I swing myself up onto the Maximus' pointing arm. Guess we'll be meeting each other again, soon enough.
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# ? Nov 2, 2020 15:43 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +2 || GRA -1 || SEN +0 || WIS +2 Blessings: Strength[ ] || Speed[ ] || Glory[ ] || Power[ ][ ] Gear: Armor[ ] || Fuel[ ][ ][ ] Hilda: Crack Shot[ ] || Quick As A Bullet [ ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- As Nine's proclamation finishes, Branwen's gaze goes from Ana, not to Nine, but a seemingly irrelevant spot on the wall. A pointed hand, furrowed brow, and eyes slowly moving back and forth as if searching for information within her mind all culminate with a faint glow of sunlight enveloping Branwen before it's luminescence fades as she turns to Nine. "I've found Her Celestial Palace and know it's orbit. I acknowledge your words, and expect you to keep to them." With that all done, she moves over to the Maximus and firmly braces herself on the machine's back. Command Solar Lore posted:The Sun is considered the physical home/palace of the Solar Pantheon. Unlike the Lunar Pantheon, whose faith hold that the moons orbiting the world are the physical forms of their deities, the Solar deities exist within the confines of the Sun; their oft clashing natures and conflicting wills being what brings life to the star and bathes the world in warmth and light from far away. Solarian scriptures say that the original triumvirate of combustion (Audo, Bombarda, Günnar) in fact have always existed within the star, but their existence and gifts they gave were too much for mortal minds to bear and drove those who learned it mad until very recently; this particular scripture is often used to invoke the importance of co-operation and collaboration as it was the collected knowledge of many individual scholars from different peoples that eventually lead to the Solar Pantheon's gifts being comprehensible to mortal minds.
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# ? Nov 8, 2020 11:12 |
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ BLOOD: 2 || COURAGE: 1 || GRACE: 2 || SENSE: -1 || WISDOM: 0 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ...poo poo. Should’ve known that there’d be more than one sniper in the abyss. Olan sees them. I see them. We saw what they can do. The mer in front of us doesn’t seem to care, practically has us under our mercy. Yet he sees them as a nuisance… Are these machines not under the Wyrm’s control? I look to it with concern and an uneasy stare at the machines outside. If we could move somewhere else, without them poised to fire away at us… AnAnonymousIdiot fucked around with this message at 04:37 on Nov 9, 2020 |
# ? Nov 8, 2020 22:21 |
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXIKFoP2lZ4 (What? - FFVI OST) Konas Your host is glaring at the machine perched above you, and though you do not speak his tongue it is clear none of the things he is saying are kind. As you and Olan consider your next move your attention is drawn towards the great archway you entered from. Three figures stride in, all of them familiar to you. The pair you saw from a distance tossing blades between themselves stride in, looking about imperiously. The woman has her hands wrapped around the large man's left arm, her jewelry jingling lightly as she walks. The man has his spear in his right hand, with his shield slung over his shoulder. He is remarkably light on his feet, the large plate greaves making almost no noise beyond his tread on the stone floor. Behind them follows the cloaked figure Sulhafah sent away earlier, Alhena. The multitude of luminous eyes peer curiously out at you from behind the large man. They all stop about ten paces from you, and the woman makes a strange arcane sign with a hand. A greeting? A ward? Giving you the finger? The man casts a brief glance at her before turning again to you and giving you a slow, cautious nod. "Mine name art Alde-" He is cut off as a shadow falls over you all and a deafening crash follows! Behind you the Maximus has just smashed a couple tables and chairs utterly flat and cracked the cobblestones. Your host's eyes have begun to bug out in fury and he stands, brandishing his cleaver at the great armored suit as his chair is overturned in his anger. Krishga, Anastasia, and Branwen Nine gives no hint that he has even heard either of you. Neither does he sic his troops on you. He seems the sort to bend rules to suit him whims - perhaps he has opted to pretend you said nothing so that he is not obliged to terminate your "hostilities". Once everyone is secured, the Maximus is maneuvered into position. The hydraulic jump assists lock into position and hurl the massive suit into the air. The jump jets kick in to add lift and correct for a smooth landing - and WHAM! Something underneath the Maximus shatters and small shards of jagged coral go flying off in every direction. As you look around, you see what appears to be a lovely outdoor cafe. Ahead of you is a grand archway leading into the tower, and behind you are buildings that presumably contain the kitchens. Immediately before you is Konas and Olan, with a furious looking bipedal catfish in chefs whites waving a meat cleaver at you, shouting angrily about something. "Jag har aldrig blivit så förolämpad under hela mitt liv! Vem du än är, kom hit så att jag kan skära ut dina söta kött!" Behind them are a trio of individuals. A giant of a man, sheathed in some sort of chitinous plating across its head, with four large tentacles draping downwards from his skull. He is bare-chested with dark metal greaves, and a thick, eel like tail thrashing behind him. What sticks out the most to you is that he looks for all the world like a flesh and blood version of 1001. He is crouched in a defensive posture, with a spear and shield held at the ready. Behind him is a nearly-human looking woman, with pallid skin and coral-like growths sprouting from her head. She wears nothing but jewelry - rings on her fingers and toes, bracelets, anklets, and piercings - all of what seems to be a dull, unburnished silver. From some of her coral horns hang what look like strips of parchment inscribed with unfamiliar writing. She is obviously wary of you all but has no weapon drawn. Next to her is a strangely shaped robed figure. The cowl is pulled far forward and you can make out out little except that it has far to many glowing azure eyes. This figure, too, seems unarmed. "Name thyselves or be cast down into oblivion!" The spear wielding man bellows out, a voice like a thunderstorm. What do you all do? Shardix fucked around with this message at 03:06 on Apr 16, 2021 |
# ? Nov 9, 2020 04:31 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +1 || GRA +2 || SEN -1 || WIS +0 STR •• | CNG ⚬⚬ | TUF •• | WPN •••• FOOD ••⚬ | BOOZE •• | TRAP ••• | GEAR •⚬ --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh. So that's where those two went off to. Dinner. I can't believe it - we risk our lives down groundside trying to parlay a way through, and Konas just...waltzes on in ahead of us and gets hisself invited to a fancy wine-and-dine with some very interesting hosts indeed. These must be the Shivans that Nine was talking about. Well, I'm sorry to crash "Hey, folks." I say sheepishly, kicking away a splintered table leg. "Hey Konas. I should've guessed you'd beat us to the punchline. I'm --" --cut off abruptly by a whistle of steam and a flash of backlighting as Krishga engages her mecha's Dramatic Entry Protocol. I roll my eyes and try not to grin as the little genius makes her descent to ground level accompanied by a panoply of pre-recorded pomp. As soon as the music cuts off I scoop her up with one hand and put her back up on her mecha's shoulder like she's a little kitten. Remember, hon: diplomacy. "--ahem. I'm Ana. This is Krishga, and that's Branwen up there. Konas and Olan, I guess you already know? ...Ssssorry for the mess, but, uh, we're kinda on a deadline. Heard you had a pest problem." I waggle the clawfist again, suggestively. "If everybody would just chill, we came to see if you'd like to contract our services to help y'all get rid of it. Eh?" (Oh, please let this work.)
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# ? Nov 9, 2020 19:22 |
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# ? Nov 9, 2020 19:23 |
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Oh drat, drat, that landing could have gone better. Of course, there’s only so much I can do when making a huge, heavy metal battle suit jump onto an outcropping a least a dozen houses high up, without being able to see where you are going to land, from a standing jump from amidst killer robots with the ground being some sort of coral of doubtful structural integrity, all while using cutting edge hydraulic jump boosters more powerful than anything in use anywhere in the world, at least for a battle suit that size! You know what, no, I’m happy with that landing. Although, hm, it seems there are some people who do not share that feeling. And, understandable, really. That’s… less than ideal. Especially since those people are under siege by an army of murderous robots, and here’s us, crashing in announced, me in the Maximus which looks like a robot and then Branwen who is half-robot. Alright. Get it together, Krishga. Time to show them I’m not the Goblin’s champion not just because I made a giant mechanized combat suit that can punch and jump real good. I’m here because I want to show everyone what Goblins can be - oh, and save the world, of course. Krishga brushes back her hair, puts on her goggles and flips a few switches, rolling her shoulders to get ready for her entrance. The front of the Maximus pops open - with both a hiss and fog spilling forth from within that are not needed for anything but drama - and the Goblin steps forward with her hands across her chest, backlit by the excessive light from within the cockpit. She steps onto Maximus' outstretched palm as if onto the gangplank of a grand ship come into port, and, while the big metal arm lowers her down, she starts addressing the assembled locals. “Greetings! We mean you no harm. I am Krishga Tazz, Goblin inventor extraordinaire, and these are my companions. I greatly apologize for our entrance, for which I take full responsibility. We did not mean to-” Wait, what? Put me down, Anastasia! What do you think you’re… No, stay calm, just let her do her thing and pretend it’s all part of the show. Hard to stay dignified when you’re struggling like a godsdamned toddler. Really, Anastasia. See if I don’t do that to you next time I’m back in the Maximus. Still, Krishga simply smiles and lets herself be moved, keeping an eye on the people watching them who to her look both impressive and intimidating in equal measure. Once Anastasia puts her down on the Maximus’ shoulder, having to stretch and climb a bit, Krishga waits for her companion to finish talking before continuing herself. “As my friend Anastasia has said, we are not aligned with the people that currently stand before your tower. We want to help you, aid you, in any way we can, and not add to your troubles. We have been in talks with the leader of the invading force, and bring you news from him.” Krishga glances down from on top of the Maximus, now able to more clearly see the splintered mess the battle suit’s landing has left behind. She takes stock of the people in front of them - while the spear-wielder and his two companions seem to assess them primarily in terms of friend of foe, the… catfish person seems to be upset on a personal level. The Goblin turns to him and gives him an apologetic smile. “Once I have a moment, I will do my best to repair your…” She somewhat nervously looks around, realizing too late she spoke before figuring out what exactly the Maximus crushed. “...coral table?” “But! That may have to wait until after the whole thing with the invading army of killer robots and…” Krishga realizes she has slipped out of her ‘respectful diplomat’ voice and clears her throat. “What I mean to say is, me and my companions may be able to help you with more immediate concerns first.” She takes the slightest bow. “Krishga Tazz. Now, can I ask your names?”
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# ? Nov 9, 2020 21:14 |
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ BLOOD: 2 || COURAGE: 1 || GRACE: 2 || SENSE: -1 || WISDOM: 0 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ WHAT THE gently caress HAPPENED OUT THERE!? After all the effort to get those machines to let you in through the front door, you drylanders decide to break your way in!? Where snipers are poised to run you full of holes!? And just as we finally got someone who I can understand… At least they’re getting their introductions out of the way. Krishga. posted:“Once I have a moment, I will do my best to repair your...coral table?” “Wooden table. Custom-made. From the surface.” I don’t blame the mer blowing his top at the display, I pour myself another glass from the skin. I’m gonna need it, along with one of the Lunars if they’re not doubled over. I offer the skin to the knife-wielder and Olan, maybe they’ll calm down? No. No, they’re staring daggers at the Drylanders still… Wait… the Wyrm’s not in control of those machines??? “As Anastasia said, I’m Apex-Lieutenant Konas Keaweth, Pearl Clan. With me is Olan, Church of Tides. We...” I gesture to myself and Olan, and shrug at the others. Gesturing is gonna be important so the mer with the knife might have some clue to what’s happening. Or maybe the lead mer could translate. “came here because we thought you might be able to clue us in on something that’s making the Surface go mad. The currents brought... us here... to you for answers... I don’t know why they didn’t use the front door like we did. Especially since they went out of their way to make that even possible.” I look to the other two, and fight the pit forming in my stomach at what they’re gonna say. "So what's the deal out there? They lied?"
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# ? Nov 10, 2020 07:45 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +1 || GRA +2 || SEN -1 || WIS +0 STR •• | CNG ⚬⚬ | TUF •• | WPN •••• FOOD ••⚬ | BOOZE •• | TRAP ••• | GEAR •⚬ --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Ohhh crap," I mutter to myself - peering down at the splinters and coral shards at our feet, I can't suppress an honest cringe. I don't quite recognize the species, but I know "My honest apologies," I say quietly to the, the chef? The one with the cleaver who sounds really mad at us. "But please, if you don't listen to us right now, you're going to have bigger problems than a smashed-up table." I can't tell if the rest of them can actually understand us or not, but Konas needs to know what's going on. "Look, while you-all were up here getting drunk," -- is that paakai I smell in the air? -- "we were down on the ground, learning." "All those soldiers? Warwick sent them. All of them. Their commander's some kind of...ancient elven war machine, and because I'm an elf (kinda), I thought maybe I could talk to it without being, y'know, eviscerated." I gesture broadly at my intact belly. "And, well, uh, it worked. I'm alive, anyway. It, he, Nine - the commander - told me a lot. These people are 'Shivans,' apparently - not any name I've heard before - and this is their enclave." "Anyway, Nine's as hosed as we are. He doesn't even know how he got here, or how long he's been down here, but he knows what he wants. What he's here for. He's here for that." I stab a finger upwards, looking towards the azure star far above us. "For the ll-" -- lissom wyrmshapes writhing in the sunlight, coiling and uncoiling, stained-glass radiation rushing through every cell of me, fractal feathered shadows unfurling like a chorus of mouths -- kaleidoscape, titan blurs, oh I can't -- "-l, light." I shiver, swallow, wipe my lips. "The, the sun, the blue sun. The weapon. He says he's here to take it." I have to stop and blink, knuckling the tears out of my eyes until I'm sure the afterimages are gone. "He says we have twenty-four hours to, um, surrender it." Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 16:06 on Nov 10, 2020 |
# ? Nov 10, 2020 16:03 |
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I can tell from Konas’ tone of voice that he also isn’t all too happy with the impression we’ve made with our entrance, both figuratively and literally. Alright, yes, it could have gone a lot better, but it’s not like I could have just walked through the front gate, what with the tower being under siege and all. Wait, the front gate is closed, right, if there is a front gate? They didn’t leave it open, because of the robot army outside, right? Right? Krishga scratches the back of her head, feeling a little embarrassed, the scattered remains of the apparently precious table all around the Maximus not helping. She pushes her goggles up upon her brow again, and gives who she suspects is the upset owner of the crushed bit of furniture an contrite look. Then, as if wanting to latch on to something else, she immediately jumps in once Anastasia has finished talking, a small figure standing on a giant metal machine. “Ah, yes! The leader of the robot army is 1001, or Nine, kind of looks like…” Krishga points at the impressive spear-wielder. “...you, but metal. In any case, he has given us, or all of us really, an ultimatum of 24 hours to surrender the…” Krishga waves around one hand, briefly wondering why both Branwen and Anastasia seem to get so strange when talking about eh admittedly extraordinary phenomenon. “...blue sun. He, or, that is to say his master, seems to think it is some sort of weapon.” The Goblin briefly puts her hand over her face, thinking, before continuing. “Speaking of 1001’s master, Warwick, 1001 is a machine and someone put in directives that force him to obey. He’s got free will, and it seemed like we were getting through to him, but then something triggered his, well, ‘obedience commands’?” Krishga shakes her head, then slaps her hands together in determination. “What I’m saying is that maybe we don’t need to fight that entire army, and me and Anastasia have a plan, but, if it comes down to knocking heads to protect everyone in this tower and keep the giant glowing underground sun out of the hands of a ruthless troublemaker like Warwick, well, we are here to help!” Awkwardness replaced with confidence again by her own words, Krishga shouts the last bits and at the end, strikes a pose upon her enormous metal creation.
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# ? Nov 10, 2020 20:33 |
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Everyone As you introduce yourselves, the large man bends down to his companion and listens carefully as she whispers something in his ear. He nods and straightens up, looking across everyone's faces. As he appraises Hilda, she throws back the tails of her duster and gives him a challenging stare, daring him to say something stupid. "Hilda. Faithful of the Sun." A slight incline of his chin is all she gets in return. Through all of this, not a one of the people here gives any sign of recognition for your titles and allegiances. It would seem that whatever these people are, they have been secluded from the world for a very long time. Before he responds to you, he glances towards the furious chef and speaks in a commanding voice. "Skadorna kommer att repareras. Låt nu din ilska gå med dig och ta med ett fat öl." The catfish-man glares at you all for a moment before heaving a great sigh and walking off towards the buildings. "Please forgive Sulhafah. He hath maintained this hall for centuries, and he would sooner lose his hands than countenance damage to it." Apparently confident none of you mean to do violence, he lowers his spear and gestures for you all to bring chairs around the table and make yourselves comfortable. "Mine name art Aldebaran, and I will speak for the people here. Mine wife, Maia." He glances to the woman on his arm. "Please excuse that she will not speak. Her silence is an insult, but not against any present." By way of confirmation, Maia gives you all a deep courtly bow. From behind those two, the cloaked figure brings up a chair for them and stands to the side. Aldebaran murmurs a thank you before sitting down and setting his gear to the side. Maia takes a seat in Aldebaran's lap, wrapped securely in his arms while her piercing blue-grey eyes watch you all with an unsettling intensity. They clearly do not care about anyone's opinions on public displays of affection. Aldebaran gestures to the cloaked figure. "Alhena. She is..." He seems to be grasping for a word and failing to find it. "I am strange." A young, light voice comes from under the cloak. Clearly that of a young lady, and all the more curious for not being odd in the slightest. Compared to the inscrutable tongue of the chef or Aldebaran's archaic forms, Alhena sounds exactly like anyone you might meet back in familiar waters. "I guess you could say I am a sort of liaison for our sun. Which by the way, I need to be very clear about this. Do not stare at it. It is contained but only in the way that a live bomb is contained." The hood turns meaningfully towards Hilda at that. Alhena, at least, seems aware of what it means to be a Faithful of the Sun. "Indeed." Aldebaran agrees with Alhena's warning, and the disquiet in his voice is apparent. He may speak for these people but the girl is clearly apart in some fundamental way. "You speak truly. We do have what could coyly be called a pest problem. The machines began their seige a little less than three months ago. Trophies they were, centerpieces of our master's glory. They were intended to sleep for all time...but something woke them. The leader hath made its claims and many of our warriors hath died at his hands. It seems to see this all as a game - one it is in no hurry to win." A pause as he collects his thoughts. "The name Warwick means naught to us, though it seems to mean a great deal to thee. Now, you say thou hath a plan. I suppose that is well and good. But. That is wholly irrelevant to far more pressing questions. I must ask: Who are you you truly, and why are you here?" Anastasia As your host speaks, the hooded figure of Alhena turns to look at you. She does not speak but the words appear in your mind no less clearly. "I would like to speak with you later in private, ma'am. If you please." The eyes within stare into your own and you find the kaleidoscopic shadows in your mind intensifying. Whatever that sun really is, it's in this girl as well. And close behind that thought comes the inevitable followup: is it in you now?
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# ? Nov 14, 2020 07:53 |
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Krishga breathes a sigh of relief when their new acquaintances lower their weapons and in fact invite the fellowship to share words, even though the catfishman apparently called Sulhafah still does not particularly seem happy with the situation. Some quick words in an unknown tongue by Aldebaran, who at least right now seems to be leading his companions in matters of conversation, calm the catfish man, or turn his thoughts from violence to grumbling. Khrishga imagines she can hear some form of the word ‘repair’, and she nods at Sulhafah to confirm that she will repair his furniture. The fellowship and the three warriors sit down around one of the tables, with Krishga the last to join as she first has to noisily drag a stool from another corner to her chair, stack it on top of it, then climb up the entire thing without it or her come tumbling down. When finally she takes her place, she gives Anastasia and Branwen a look and a shrug, as if to say that she does not want to have to stand on a chair for this, and barely see anything over the edge for it. She listens to what Aldebaran and Alhena have to say, as well as Maia, by not saying anything. Well, well, well! Normally I’d wonder if it’d be rude to write on a notepad during all this, because that is a lot of information, but I left my notepad in the Maximus, so that question doesn’t need an answer. A sun like ‘an unexploded bomb’, huh! I bet you could run a hundred cities on that power, if you could, not like we can run a power cable to our above-ground sun, hmmmm… Oh, those two are sweet, you love to see a healthy relationship between ancient secret underwater cave guardians. Seriously though, good for them. Oh, and she doesn’t talk because of some… thing. May be worth it to ask about later, though learning more about this whole place and the blue sun is calling to me. The possibilities! Ah, and you’re not supposed to look at it directly, well, of course, who would do that. Maybe with some proper goggles. Maybe that’s why Branwen and Anastasia were all weird about the sun, I think they looked. And there’s some.. religious… stuff.. going on as well. Sun stuff. Eh. You know what, first impressions and all, but these guys seem alright. I came here to help and protect people, but if those people are upstanding folks and not ungrateful assholes, hey, I’m not complaining. Or maybe it’s because Aldebaran is kind of talking like Drakon Dragonslayer, I used to love reading those as a kid, a questing knight-errant saving the human kingdoms, even though, yes, some of the early stuff was a little iffy, some kinda racist stuff with Goblins and Orcs as the mindless bad guys, but… Where was I? Oh yes. Aldebaran is asking each of us why we are here. Why we are really here. Krishga takes a deep breath, and, with her cheeks puffed out, she takes a look at her companions around her, to see who will speak first. She breathes out, throws her arms up and then claps her hands together. “Well. It’s a question with several possible answers, but, let’s go with the most practical one first, huh? Why are we-” She stretches out her hand, to indicate the others. “-we here? What led us here, what do we hope to accomplish? First off, you either already knew or realize now that there is an entire world above.” Krishga points upwards, then furrows her brow as she remembers she is actually standing upside down - and readjusts the way she is pointing. “That is where we are from.” The Goblin is about to jump onto the table and pace back and forth on it, like her companions have already seen before, but she thinks better of it when she thinks of Sulhafah. “Two months and some weeks ago Aqualantis - a, hm, city under the sea - vanished with all its people without a trace, or, well, some trace, which is what we are following, which is what led us here. There was some sort of signal…” She cocks an eyebrow and wonders whether these rather old-fashioned folks would understand what she means by ‘signal’. “...a wave from this place. This is how we found you, and the army of machines laying siege to your tower.” “Now!” Krishga enthusiastically raises her finger to make her point, then freezes as the stool stacked on top of her chair wobbles for a few moments. “Now. What I find interesting is that you started seeing the machines three months ago, and I very much suspect that there is a connection. And part of that connection is… Warwick. The name does not mean anything to you, and it is no surprise. They are someone of great renown topside, and most people think they’re great, someone to look up to. Not us. We all think, well, know they’re up to no good. And do you know what the leader of the war machines told us? 1001 told us that Warwick somehow got his command codes, and so it is Warwick that must have woken up and is now commanding this army.” A moment passes. “Uh, command codes are like… slave chains and whip, but for a machine’s mind. For a sapient, uh, thinking machine’s mind, it’s not like you can enslave something without a mind, like the Maximus back there, for instance.” Krishga blinks. “Like I said, 1001 currently does not have a choice and is being forced to lay siege to you. I don’t know if you have slavers down here but… well, personally, I think they all deserve being crushed.” Krishga shrugs, then smiles, silently hoping that her new allies-to-be, if all goes well, actually understood all that she said.
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# ? Nov 14, 2020 21:29 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +2 || GRA -1 || SEN +0 || WIS +2 Blessings: Strength[ ] || Speed[ ] || Glory[ ] || Power[ ][ ] Gear: Armor[ ] || Fuel[ ][ ][ ] Hilda: Crack Shot[ ] || Quick As A Bullet [ ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "If a touch over-elaborated, Krishga's right. We're here trying to find answers as to why a city and all within vanished in an instant. About the time Warwick returned from... Somewhere. About the time the machines awoke." Bran comments before finally jumping down from Maximus' shoulder, carefully landing softly clear from any nearby furniture. "And pardon my own silence, I'm practicing some mindfulness of my words after recent carelessness. Branwen McAlister, also Faithful of the Sun and one more deserving of your askew glance." While Hilda surreptitiously gives Bran a 'really?' look; Branwen herself pauses as Alhena's hooded gaze shifts over to her. "And if you'll excuse any impertinence, might I ask what might happen if someone stared at this sun?"
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# ? Nov 16, 2020 12:56 |
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Krishga scoffs and rolls her eyes at Branwen, though clearly playfully. “Over-elaborated? Pff. ‘Words are the footholds of thought’.”
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# ? Nov 16, 2020 15:21 |
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Branwen "Because it's a reality poison that is most easily imbibed with your eyes. And like many poisons, it can be difficult to know how much it takes to kill you. Or if it will kill you. It can do far worse things." At this, Alhena pulls her cloak up and off, tossing it aside. What is revealed is an utterly alien form, humanoid in only a vague sense. A mass of flesh and chitin wrapped in writhing tentacles. She possesses comparatively normal arms, though tipped in wicked looking claws. Her legs on the other hand appear to be nothing more than two writhing tendril masses beneath a barbed bell that gives off the impression of a fleshy skirt. The face is an expressionless plate,with a lower jaw that seperates in the middle when she speaks. The multitudinous eyes seen in the shadow of the hood now make sense - on the left is one great eye and on the right is an array of many smaller ones, and they all glow with the same unsettling blue light as the sun that looms above. "Aldebaran spoke of our Master. What he speaks of is the Abyss Wyrm that rules this tower. I am sure you've all heard the tales of how they warp flesh, right? This is true. They twist their slaves into whatever forms they wish, but it is the azure sun Meshaia which permits them this power. We were all human, once. Our master claimed us over the centuries for its own whims and we were remade to suit those whims."
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# ? Nov 17, 2020 02:13 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +1 || GRA +2 || SEN -1 || WIS +0 STR •• | CNG ⚬⚬ | TUF •• | WPN •••• FOOD ••⚬ | BOOZE •• | TRAP ••• | GEAR •⚬ --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "FUuohhgods, Alhena!" Polite or not, I can't suppress a violent start at the sight of her. They made her into this! This alien, flowing, graceful thing; made her to dance in that light, to be immersed in -- okay, she really must not be kidding. It's way too easy for me to dwell on the -- the Meshaia, the what-I-saw; what I took in, apparently. Reality poison. Gods. Shula hide me. "ahem, I, on that topic, uh, so, your master is dead. Ten years dead. My mother killed it. Helped to kill it, really, but the thing is that she never came back. So I'm looking for her. Long way to come, I know, but I heard she had ties to, to Aqualantis, the city they've all been going on about. See, that city is supposed to be only an hour or two's journey away from where we are this very moment. Except it's not. So. We came looking for it, and found you instead." I stop to take a breath. "So, uh, you wouldn't happen to have a way to unimbibe that poison, would you?"
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# ? Nov 20, 2020 02:54 |
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At the sight of Alhena’s true form, or rather, all of the implications, Krishga’s eyes bug out and she shouts without any thought at carefully picking her words. “You are all slaves?!” She blinks rapidly, mouth hanging open. “Some rear end in a top hat abducted you and turned you into… this against your will? That’s, that’s, I just thought you were some sort of underwater people, but, you were human and…” The Goblin shudders on her chair construction, and then a different expression forms on her face, one of concern and pity. “That’s…. Alhena, Aldebaran, Maia, that’s terrible. I am so sorry.” Krishga stops herself and takes a look at Aldebaran and Maia, husband and wife, and how they seem to at least be happy together. “Of course I am not saying there is anything wrong with what you are now, but… there is something wrong with someone forcing this on you.” Krishga shakes her head, for the moment at a loss for words. When she hears Anastasia say that by her account, the Abyss Wyrm behind this is dead ten years past by none other than Anastasia’s mother, she mutters ‘good on her, saved me the trouble’ under her breath. She is surprised by Anastasia’s question, finally understanding a little bit more of what drives her companion, but the Goblin has questions of her own. “I...I have to say it, but this all means that it is that much more important to keep that Azure Sun - Meshaia? - stays out of the hands of anyone, especially people that call it a ‘weapon’, which is exactly the phrase 1001 used out there, no doubt on instruction by Warwick.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “But all that aside… what can we do for you? If it’s true that there is no Abyss Wyrm anymore, have there been any new abductions in the last ten years? And, well, why are you still…?” She waves her hand around, indicating the tower and the cave beyond.
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# ? Nov 20, 2020 17:54 |
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ BLOOD: 2 || COURAGE: 1 || GRACE: 2 || SENSE: -1 || WISDOM: 0 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ … Alright, there’s a lot to take in. Anastasia and Krishga are already taking the lead with questions. Which means it's time to listen and watch... pre:Konas (AnonymousIdiot)Today at 7:12 PM /r 2d6-1 #LookCloselyFamily Xom (dicebot) BOT Today at 7:12 PM @Konas (AnonymousIdiot): 2d6-1 LookCloselyFamily = (6+4)-1 = 9 This point, I’d be ready to break them into scrap. Everything I got from them seems like a Triton crew on the worst blowfish trip, hazardous to everyone, and fuckin’ braindead. Course, they’re machines, so that checks out. I can’t help but wonder if they have any care for their master’s death, but I doubt that we’re in any danger, least not from these three. Olan looks like she stared into the Abyss by these three, probably trying to process that they’re Landdwellers. I’d be too, but with war coming, I ain’t gonna question it till this place is cleared. They got themselves exposed to raw mana, and barely swim away from it. And that’s before they were trapped here with no way out, wouldn’t be surprised if the Wyrm left out gills when they warped their bodies and minds. It’s a miracle they’re still standing, and stable. I have to wonder if they think themselves different from other Landdwellers, but that ain’t the time to ask that, not yet. We got ‘trophies’ to destroy. I’ve seen Aldebaran before I got in, I know he probably knows how to use that spear and shield of his. If he has sea-legs, that’d be enough to hold his own. The other’s I’m not so sure. Even if they could breathe underwater, I’m not sure how they can tread though. Maia might have magic, with what I could see she had to have some kind of gift, but would it be enough? And Alhena’s harder to tell. And at some point, the Captain’s gonna want a meet with these three, see if they’d be able to negotiate with them. And the ESCO after. I think those Drylanders should see the folly their predecessors tried to hide. These are dire times. Dire and interesting. If there’s an advantage we can use, whether it’s any other magic they have, or some plan they have, now would be the time. Cause if we all survive this, there’s gonna be a sea change. Better to wait till the others are done with their questions before I start saying something. pre:Tell me about Maia. What is she doing? What will she do next? Tell me about Alhena. How could she help me? How could she hurt me? What will happen if I ask about mana stores, or ‘reality poison’ stores? AnAnonymousIdiot fucked around with this message at 07:28 on Nov 21, 2020 |
# ? Nov 21, 2020 06:54 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +2 || GRA -1 || SEN +0 || WIS +2 Blessings: Strength[ ] || Speed[ ] || Glory[ ] || Power[ ][ ] Gear: Armor[ ] || Fuel[ ][ ][ ] Hilda: Crack Shot[ ] || Quick As A Bullet [ ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bran's brow only furrows with Alhena's reveal, her radiant eyes slowly pacing along with her thoughts. It's the mention of Serenity that shakes Bran's composure, the hum of the divine engine that is herself growing before Branwen slowly and pointedly inhales and painstakingly releases the needless breath, before looking to the room as a whole. "Alhena." Bran's voice is terse, not from rudeness but from restraining further words from exploding forth endlessly. "Was this power permitted? Or demanded and pulled forth from the Azure Sun by the wyrms with force?"
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# ? Nov 21, 2020 08:26 |
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Anastasia At your mention of the Abyss Wyrm being dead, Aldebaran and Maia exchange a glance followed by a tight embrace. You think you hear Maia quietly laughing into her husband's shoulder. Alhena, for her part, merely cocks her head at you. "We suspected something like that. Our master was known to vanish for his own inscrutable purposes, but never for more than a few months at a time." She shrugs. "None of us will miss him. As for your mother or this missing city, I'm afraid we know nothing. You are the only people to visit us in anyone's living memory. The machines don't count - they were already here. News from above is nonexistent except for what newcomers to this menagerie can offer - which means we are a little more than twenty years out of date. I was fifteen when I was brought here, and my birthday is on the zeroeth day of Germina which should have been four months and eight days ago?" It is, in fact, exactly eight days into Messidor, the first month of the summer season. The zeroeth day of Germina, meanwhile, means Alhena was technically born on the Day of Blood. The first of Germina is the first day of the year and the beginning of the spring season. The Day of Blood is the last day of the year and not counted among any of the twelve months. It is a cursed day and it is considered absolutely terrible luck to be born on it, so "Zeroeth of Germina" is the common euphemism used as a means of staving off that ill fortune. No god holds dominion on that day, and even the degenerate servants of the Light Hoarder lock the doors to their blackened temples and pray. At your mention of unimbibing poison, she laughs lightly. "I don't think you have anything to fear. If it were going to kill you it probably already would have. Nevertheless." She steps forward and gently takes your face into her hands and stares into your eyes. "...No, I see no signs that She has taken root. Nevertheless, I would like to conduct a more thorough theurgic ritual with you later be absolutely certain." Tell me about how you heard of your mother's exploits against the Wyrm. Krishga At your expression of sympathy, your hosts mostly cough awkwardly and glance aside. You don't get the impression you necessarily stepped into a sensitive topic so much as they have no idea what to say to that. From the way they act and speak, this is not a people beaten down and broken. But they are a people who have accepted the reality of their situation. What do you say when an outsider is horrified at injustices they only just learned about that you have long since moved beyond? Aldebaran finally speaks. "Nay. Alhena art the last, unless our master wert killed with his latest prize in his clutches. As to why we still linger. Where would we go? Alhena be the only one among us young enough to have family yet living. We didst not choose this home, yet our home it is." Krishga obviously feels strongly about slaves and slavery. Was she raised this way, or does it come from some personal experience? Branwen Alhena releases Anastasia from her grasp and steps back, turning to you. "There is no choice but to permit it. Like those machines out there, the sun was made to do as its masters demand. Those masters, the Abyss Wyrms, rightly named Shivans, willed it into existence with all the arcane mastery they possessed and that mastery is no trifling thing. In the face of Meshaia unbound, armies ten million strong were obliterated with no more care than any of us would give to drowning an ant colony." She glances to Aldebaran, who gives her a nod. "We can tell you the full story later, if you like. We've mostly abandoned the rituals put upon us by our master. We are not a people broken such that we'll fellate a long dead ego. But we still celebrate the only holy day the Shivans honor - the end of the war. Well, a war, but the only one they ever cared about." "Låt oss inte agera som att det faktum att dessa gäster anlände i exakt årsdagen för krigets slut bara är en slump. Gudarna har ett skämt om oss igen." From behind you hear a deep croaky voice. Glancing behind, you see the catfish looking fellow rolling a large barrel towards you all. He brings it to a halt and one smooth motion bends and hoists the thing up onto a nearby table. He unslings a small pack from his shoulder and sets out a bunch of large beer mugs and begins the job of tapping the keg. I know Serenity is an unresolved source of tension for you, but that can wait. Tell me a little about your blood mother, Maeve. Konas As your companions chat with these strange folks, you watch. You have grown very good at watching. Before long, Sulhafah returns with drink of his own and busies himself readying it for consumption. Olan leans in to you and quietly speaks in Triton. "I don't think I've seen any couple more in love than those two. And while I don't think our hosts are dangerous, the woman would be a good hostage if I'm wrong." Glancing at her yourself, she seems to be eyeing the keg hungrily. This Maia seems to be a fan of whatever sort of beer they have down here, and you've seen that kind of look in your own people's faces from time to time. She's the sort to drink long, hard, without a thought for the consequences. Among tritons that tends to lead to mounting up on sea horses and tearing around the city. Among surfacers, you've noticed a tendency to dance on tables and sing. Badly. Alhena, meanwhile, carries herself much the way your half-orc companion does. There is coiled muscle in her that is not obvious but could break bones if it came to it. More than that though, she claims to be some kind of "liaison" for that great blue sun. Which means she potentially has access to a vast well of raw magical power. Whether she is capable of utilizing that power with any skill or finesse remains to be seen. It's probably for the best, then, that you are not her enemy right now. As the conversations continue, you also get the sense that while this azure sun "Meshaia" is viewed as an object of power and to be feared, it is not something anyone here really understands in any real capacity. Unless they had the means and interest in digging deep down towards the tower roots, the inhabitants of this place probably know nothing of it. After all, the vast well of energy you saw was less on account of your eyes and more on account of your sensitivity to arcane energy flows. As you mull this over privately, Sulhafah plants a large frothy mug of some sort of beer before you and Olan, clapping you on the back in a friendly manner before filling up more mugs for the others. Olan picks up her mug and sniffs tentatively before taking a sip. Her eyes widen a bit. "Mmm. Lightly spiced, but in a good way. I can't pin down quite what it is. It's like cinnamon, but not exactly." She has another, deeper drink. When did Konas first have triton Paakai, and what was the occasion? What do you all do? Shardix fucked around with this message at 13:35 on Dec 1, 2020 |
# ? Nov 23, 2020 01:33 |
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Krishga observes the reaction of the three, and feels some embarrassment herself, glad that she did not go with her instinct of hugging them when she heard their story. She sits on her makeshift stacked chairs and listens to all Alhena and Aldebaran have to say, her fingers tented before her chest. When all are finished, she speaks up after a moment of silence. “I understand, Aldebaran. I did not want to make you or yours uncomfortable. It is simply…” She smiles, shrugs lightly. “...you have suffered injustice, and I simply had to, well, say something.” It’s true, yeah, just the thought of loving slavery stokes a fire in my belly. It’s not because I’ve faced slavery myself, not that kind anyway, in my own life. Actually, today’s Goblins are pretty proud of the fact that we neither do that to our own nor let others do that to us anymore. You’ve got a family member that fought alongside the orc slave liberators - like my grandfather - you’ve got something to boast with. And I mean boasting. Some really are proud of it, but for some it’s just a status thing, without real pride for the meaning behind it. Because yes, I haven’t seen that kind of slavery done to me or my people, but I can see it everywhere, and I can see it too in those newly powerful Goblin magnates. I’ve seen the crushing working condition for underpaid factory workers, the clubs of strikebreakers raining down on union members, I’ve seen that glint in the eyes of the mighty the world over. Make no mistake, that desire is still there - to own us. I guess you could say that I haven’t been taught that slavery is bad, not as such. My parents, bless them, were more of the ‘shoulder your burdens and don’t complain’ type, but growing up I’ve always had a strong sense of when something was wrong. Unjust. When the strong and powerful pushed around those under them and found some excuse for why what they did was right, necessary, even. Still, when I was young, I was mostly angry and, well, didn’t think too deeply about it, not that there’s anything too wrong with that either. It’s when I learned under Tulgrom Lupp, my mentor, that I started thinking about stuff like that in terms of… political and economic theory, systemic injustices, things like that. But slavery, real slavery… it still exists, and it is one of the most naked, undisguised forms of that sort of abuse of power. If someone tells you that slavery is good, just, if they find some excuse, some justification, then you know they are scum. Slaver scum. There was one time, though, when I was about, hm, 14. My grandfather had a visitor, an old orc as big as a factory engine, still muscles as big as my head despite his grey beard. Someone from way back, when Grandfather fought alongside Klothra Orc-Friend. He barely fit in our house, but there was something in the way he spoke, how he looked around him, somewhere between gentle and scared, scared of us. There were deep scars still on his back, where the lash had struck it, again and again, over many years. The brand burned into his forearm was faded, but it was still there, in more than one sense of the word. I never even asked his name. Krishga shakes her head, dispelling her reminiscence, and claps her hands together. “Well! Sounds like your master is no more, so that’s taken care of already. Although…” She looks each of the three in their eyes - or where they would be. “...I’m happy you’ve found some peace with what has been done to you. Right now, we need to work together and take care of that army of killer robots out there, but after that’s done, at least I am at your disposal, to help you be the masters of your own life. If this is your home, we’ll help defend it. But the world is still out there, if you want. There’s still people, and life. You only need to stay here if you want to. Alright?” She breathes in, puffs her cheeks, and breathes out. “On to more immediate matters, namely, making sure this wonderful tower and your home isn’t overrun by ancient metal war machines who then take command of an apparently conscious extraordinary phenomenon of indescribable power, to be used as a weapon by a ruthless miscreant in manners and for purposes I scarce want to imagine.” Krishga grins at her own verbal flourish. “One!” She starts counting on her fingers. “Since apparently the azure sun - Meshaia - is … sapient? Is it possible to contact it without…” She briefly glances at Alhena’s form. “...any side effects to discuss, say, help with our current robot problem, whether it’s still enslaved by the Abyss Wyrms and what we can do about that?” Another finger extends. “Two! Is there anything in the tower, or anywhere else, that could help defending it but that is currently not working correctly, that needs repairs? Anything goes, even if you are absolutely sure nobody could possibly fix it. Three! Like I said, me and Anastsia have a plan, but, if that doesn’t work, I want to give you all the very best gadgets that Goblin ingenuity can cobble together on short notice. I’ll need all the parts, scrap and semi-useful salvage that you have so I can work my magic. Oh, and if there’s anyone that has a good head on their shoulder and is able to learn fast, well, Konas is a marvellous assistant…” She grins at the Triton. “...but he may be busy with other tasks and another pair of hands won’t go amiss. Whoever wants to help will get the opportunity to learn some serious Goblin engineering!” Krishga stands up, hands on her hips, beaming with confidence borne of being in her element of plans and improvisation. Somehow, her precariously stacked chairs seem to obey her will as well, keeping steady without any wobble. “What do you say?” nil. fucked around with this message at 13:46 on Dec 1, 2020 |
# ? Nov 24, 2020 21:15 |
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Krishga Your balance is remarkable, though you notice the catfish man's slitted eyes seem to linger on you longer than they do on your companions. Yet since the chairs don't go toppling, he does nothing more than set a mug of beer before you. As he steps away to fill another mug you launch into your batch of questions. While you speak, you find it difficult to gauge your host's reaction to your words. Even discounting the inhuman appearances three of the four of them bear, they are a remarkably reserved group of people. They do not easily give away their thoughts to casual observation unless they choose too. "We shalt set aside worries for the future and how the outside world may fit into it once we hath ensured there will be one." Aldebaran offers. As you continue with your questions, Alhena takes up the reigns of conversation once more. "We are all wary of involving Meshaia, but as a last resort we are willing to consider it." By this time, everyone has been served a mug and Alhena carefully takes a drink. Strange to realize how much care is needed to drink without making a mess when one has no lips. For her part, she manages with aplomb. Years of practice no doubt. "As for repairs and engineering, I am afraid you're going to be disappointed. The Shivans eschewed technology in most all of its forms. Anything of any sophistication here is magical; the shield keeping the ocean at bay, the central column and the means by which the water within is kept pure. Sulhafah's kitchen and our apartments? All lit and powered through magic. Even the great front entrance of this tower is opened and closed through magical means and none of us were ever privy to the incantations to control them. That's why they're sitting open in spite of that army outside. When their leader first came here and made his demands, every living soul in this tower pitched in to haul them shut. They didn't budge an inch." She plants an elbow on the table and rests her chin in her hand, sighing in annoyance. "We were only ever taught what we needed to know to serve our purpose. The wyrms didn't want their servants to have much independence."
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# ? Dec 1, 2020 14:12 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +1 || GRA +2 || SEN -1 || WIS +0 STR •• | CNG ⚬⚬ | TUF •• | WPN •••• FOOD ••⚬ | BOOZE •• | TRAP ••• | GEAR •⚬ --------------------------------------------------------------------------- I sniff - lick my lips - tip the mug back and drink deep. Mm. "'Sgood," I mumble. It's got a bite, sure; but it'll need more than a bite to get me drunk. Gods, who knows; maybe it'll even help. One poison to cure another. "Listen. Krish. Hon. I'm with them." I kick through my pack 'til I find the good stuff: orcish moonshine. A few shots of the meshki and you can forget anything. "So we-all might only have twenty-four hours left to live, and I've got a lot of poo poo I wanna forget in my head, so, uh...." I pour myself a finger and toss the bottle to Maia. "...catch. Alhena: whatever this ritual is, do I have to be sober for it? I figure I start now, wake up, wash my face, we deal with this in the, uh...do you have mornings down here? Mornings." "'F we need scrap, we'll go, fuckin', upstairs and get some from the ship. We have time. Kill the, what were they, the Watch-Eyes?, on the way up, get whatever steel and stuff you need, signal for help because we can loving do that now, and not die alone down here against a horde of death engines?" I'd really like to not die alone down here against a horde of death engines. Can't stop thinking about that light. Can't judge distance right here; the tower, person-scale, is fine enough, but look up or down, or out past the windows...and that yawning distance beckons. The open sea-beneath-the-sea. Something about this place is not right. It feels like... * * * ...jail, actually. Empty like the facility they kept me in. Elves don't really do what other folks might call imprisonment, being as they all live so drat long. Instead what they do is, they just...switch you off. Lay you out cold like a body and store you for however long your sentence is. Brooding in dust. Only they didn't - couldn't - do that to me. Nobody knew how long I'd live. Not me, not the folks: they don't get a lot of half-orcs around their parts. Nobody was sure I wouldn't die in there, so they kept me awake and had to figure out how to hold me. Too drat clean in there, is what I remember: clean like this place, like there's some bone-deep old spell in the air forcing the dust away. Keeping everything all nice and perfectly tidy for the long age to come. A century, two, four: step out of the isolation ward, and it's a blink. Over and gone. Start over again where you left off, no change. Sure, all your mortal friends are dead, but who gives a drat about them? Your life is here. Only bright spot in it: even elven jailors let you have a visitor now 'n again. I still crack a grin thinking of the way dried-up old Dyrus said "you have a letter from your 'mee maw'" to me on my birthday, all fussy and precise with it like another figure in his ledgers. It really was, of course, a letter and a card from Meemaw Greymist -- she loved writing to me -- but it was something else, too: a encrypted military communiqué passed back through family channels by Auntie Leo. 01 had gone dark: he'd been phoning back home to his makers, in some deep-background program buried in his thoughtshard, and now the heartbeat had gone off. There was an investigation, just after the ashes settled, and the Dominions find what's left of him down there: dead, mutilated, thoughtshard amputated off the wreck of his corpse, in care of the eggheads at Ikaria Station. Apparently Mom, him, and a coupla other losers walked the seabed to reach their station. On the way to Aqualantis proper, their transport sub was ambushed - caught out by a scouting element of the tritons' invasion force who mistook them for Aqualanteans - and in the fighting, they woke the Wurm. A real whale of a tale, Mom, but you missed this part: what was beneath, what the wurm kept down here. Didn't even bother to look, didn't come back none, couldn't, I guess? What would you've done, hell, if you were here? Got drunk on the meshki and wondered how long you had before you got tore apart by a war machine? You made it through all that, well, I'd better drat well make it through this, if only just to laugh when I tell you what shade of bullshit I had to put up with coming to find you. Alumnus Post fucked around with this message at 04:36 on Dec 2, 2020 |
# ? Dec 2, 2020 04:13 |
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ BLOOD: 2 || COURAGE: 1 || GRACE: 2 || SENSE: -1 || WISDOM: 0 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Moons, this is familiar... A throng of fries playing at strongmer come together in a haze of paakai to take on the Ocean. We had a free day, and someone got the idea of taking a large bundle of the stuff to chew on. Out near a vent, far from HQ, we figured that nobody would come so far looking for us, and we’d come back. But we didn’t come out here with leaves to chase some high the grown mer knew. See, it was our last shot at greatness before our new Clan had us learn Surface matters, which nobody in the school wanted to do. Someone had the idea that a Morkoth was hiding in a cave nearby. I think I got loud and said I was gonna kill it and planned to go there to do it. Naturally, that got half the fries in HQ to come out there for something that we were told only happened in hymns. We all got hopped up before we went into the vents. Then… it got blurry. I think we found something there and… someone screamed at us. Maybe it was the Morkoth, or maybe it was someone in hiding like the Kahuna. That was back in the day when he was swimming around singing his madness… I guess we attacked them? And then I woke up trapped in some Surfacer’s fishnet. What I took away from this was to not get smashed before hell broke loose. I and every other fry who had to harvest the Turtle Clan’s kelp gardens for half the month, and had no heroics to show for it. ---- Not sure how strong the brew is, but I don’t chase it down like the paakai… And it’s not bad at all. I offer what’s left of my skin to the... others? Maybe Alhena might bite? At least they should know that I want good relations with them. And so I can have these talks about the raw mana later. Alhena’s the authority, and while she ain’t the leader, getting her on board would help when the Captain and Pteroth sit down with Aldebaran. “Perhaps we should start with where those machines were stored before that scum-sucking Drylander turned them on.” I turn to Krishga. “Maybe there’s something there that can clue us in on how to kill that commander?” I look to the four. Odds are they know this place better than we do. And I’ve some questions of my own. And since they’ve led to one of them… “What’s the column of water for? Does it power the whole tower?”
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# ? Dec 4, 2020 05:56 |
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“Wait, the front entrance was open?!” Krishga’s eyes go wide, and suddenly, her stacked chairs are wobbling and she’s wildly flailing her arms trying to keep balance. “Whoa, ho, hold on a moment…” A moment before the whole thing comes crashing down, Krishga leaps onto the table into a roll and just in time grabs the chair before it can noisily fall onto the ground, or worse. With a sheepish expression for the catfish man, she takes a breath and gently places the chair on the ground. Now standing on the table, she walks up to the quite-large mug, at least in relation to her size, and knocks back some of what is on offer. “Hmn, not bad!” “Anastasia, remember, there was that thing we wanted to do, yeah?” She mimics playing the guitar. “Being sufficiently drunk is definitely not an impediment for that, just make sure you still can stand and, well, sing, huh?” She gives her companion a look, wondering why exactly she seems to have gone drunk quite so quickly - or sounding like it, anyway. She strides forward on the table, one finger up in the air. “Excellent idea, Konas! If their storage area is somewhere we can reach, there’s no doubt much we can learn and find valuable parts and salvage besides. Speaking of salvage!” She turns around, walking up to where Aldebaran and the others are sitting. “I cannot help you with magic and rituals and such, but I’ll tell you that if this is your home and you want to keep it safe, you will need to be able to use tools of your own, not things your dead master deemed safe enough for you to have, but not understand.” She raises up her fist, a fire in her voice and eyes. “As long as the privileged hold the keys to work and industry, those below them will remain forever that way. You must cast off the chains of your corpse slaver and seize the means to produce on your own, with technology that is not a secret but for everyone!” Krishga stands there for a few moments, her arms outstretched, and then it seems to catch up to her that perhaps she has become a bit more intense than she meant. She holds her fist in front of her mouth and clears her throat. “Right. My point is, you can’t rely on rituals that were given to you so you never would become too powerful in the first place, especially now that there’s nobody to help you understand them. Not if you want to keep your home safe. I’m willing to teach you what I can in the time we have. It may not be as powerful as magic, but it’ll be yours.” She looks around, a bit sheepish again. “I could start with that table I accidentally smashed earlier, perhaps with Konas assisting?” nil. fucked around with this message at 19:53 on Dec 5, 2020 |
# ? Dec 5, 2020 19:40 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +1 || GRA +2 || SEN -1 || WIS +0 STR •• | CNG ⚬⚬ | TUF •• | WPN •••• FOOD ••⚬ | BOOZE •⚬ | TRAP ••• | GEAR •⚬ --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Uh, yeah?" I tell her, laughing. "I was gonna tell you, but...whoa, caref--Krishga, I am gonna--yeah, that kept happening, little miss pentuple-espresso, will you watch out before I put a helmet on you? I was tryina say, we were already here before I had a chance to tell you we coulda just taken the stairs, and --" snort, giggle "-- spared our fine hosts the slapstick act."
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# ? Dec 7, 2020 00:01 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +2 || GRA -1 || SEN +0 || WIS +2 Blessings: Strength[ ] || Speed[ ] || Glory[ ] || Power[ ][ ] Gear: Armor[ ] || Fuel[ ][ ][ ] Hilda: Crack Shot[ ] || Quick As A Bullet [ ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Made or..." Branwen pauses before lightly shaking her head. "Sorry, my ecclesiastic curiosity is showing. I would enjoy to hear the full story when you are ready to tell it." As Sulhafah hands a mug to Ana, Bran's face falls a bit, quietly remembering the taste and satisfaction now seemingly beyond her metallic form. As the large catfish man offers a mug towards Branwen, she tries to politely wave it off. "No, thank you, there's certain... observances I'm adhering to." It is then that Krishga nearly topples her stacked seating arrangement and dominates the conversation and attention as the ten thousand thoughts a minute goblin often does. But Bran's attention moves past Krishga and to Ana. It'd been a long time but she remembers her half-sister getting like this. Giddy and giggling seemingly seconds into her drink, something she does when she just, wants to be drunk. Wants to be anything other than worried and stressed out. - Bran gripped the table at that... Cacophony of her own thoughts? She can already see Hilda's noticed it, only the slightest look of concern crossing the gunslinger's face. She slowly releases her grip on the table, trying to coolly avoid the attention of the hosts. Carefully and methodically, Bran lets out a slow, measured breath she only needs to calm herself and once more approaches the thought, now knowing and wary of the bomb that she had set off. And once again it is noise, but noise she is ready for, with composed and methodical thinking winnows the thought into what they are. Two different, contradictory memories of the... same conversation? But very different conversations, incompatible conversations. Where Ana left to learn the bardic ways... And where Ana and Serenity left her and her mother. And the hate she felt for Serenity, taking Ana and leaving them. Remembering letting a nursed grudge she had scarcely realized still festered within her spew forth when she saw her stepmother in Aqualantis... And nearly the polar opposite memories were there, Serenity remaining with them, with her mom, in that swamp... Bran turned her mind over to the memory of the Azure Sun, no, Meshaia's etching of a picture. There the thought distinctly feels of her commandeering of Branwen's mind, unmistakable in how deftly the Sun formed the mental image within Branwen... Seems she'd have to ask Ana's question herself later. ((Still working on details for Maeve, edit them into here if they don't fit in a later post or something.))
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# ? Dec 7, 2020 16:32 |
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Krishga puts her hands on her hips, as she good-naturedly complains to Anastasia. “Oh yeah, laugh it up, the Goblin is making an rear end out of herself because all the furniture is the wrong size! If I’m the slapstick act, who are you supposed to be? Not the straight man, that’s for sure! Keep drinking like that, and it’ll be a contest about who'll manage the most pratfalls between the two of us.” She keeps the mock-angry expression on her face for a few moments more, then quickly winks at Anastasia and again turns towards their gracious, if mysterious hosts. “You will have to excuse my friend here, she-” Krishga furrows her brow as she sees Branwen grip the table, with an expression the Goblin cannot quite read but at the very least knows is not usual for her normally more reserved companion. Her voice now free of any joking tone, replaced by a small hint of concern, she speaks to Branwen. “Hey. Hey, Branwen, everything alright?”
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# ? Dec 7, 2020 20:16 |
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Anastasia Maia catches the bottle smoothly, and you cannot help but notice the way not a single motion is wasted. Her movements are precise, measured. If not for all the genetic markers that make it obvious she is purely human stock, you would think she trained in a Dominion academy. It is said that Abyss Wyrms are avaricious collectors of fine art, and this woman is almost certainly a living example of such. Similarly the beer you're drinking might not stand the test against the finest elven wines, but it goes down smoothly and the spices in it seem to enhance the sense of warmth and camaraderie of this impromptu get together. It doesn't seem out of the question that the former master of this tower acquired a master brewer at some point in the past. Maia pours a hefty slug of moonshine into her mug and hoists it to you to clink them together. She takes a drink and coughs - once - before letting her tongue hang out while the drink slides home. A wide open mouth as they gulp some air back into their lungs is not an uncommon reaction among people trying it for the first time. At your inquiry, Alhena laughs again. "No, sobriety is not required. I must caution everyone against getting hammered though. If you cannot breathe underwater, the stairs are the only reasonable means of getting around in the tower and I can assure you: you do not want to fall all the way down them." At your mention of the Watch-Eyes, Aldebaran chimes in. "I wouldst be fascinated to hear how thee and thine managed to evade those creatures. They art another reason we have made no true attempts at leaving this place: Verily they keep intruders out and verily they keep us in." Konas "I wish we could tell you where the rank and file were stored. The commanding unit was here, along with the Torch Eyes. One of the upper arms was devoted entirely to displaying them. The Steel Claws, though, we think were sealed in an armory someplace else. After 1001 woke up and our efforts to destroy him failed, he vanished for several days. When he returned to lay siege that army followed in his wake." "I take blame for this lapse. Preoccupied we were with treating our wounded and laying the dead to rest, I did not think to send scouts to observe." Aldebaran adds. The frustration is readily apparent in his voice. Alhena glances away from him for a moment, letting the uncomfortable moment pass before continuing. "The central pillar is our primary means of traversing the tower. You are welcome to make use of it as you please. Most of us have apartments within it, being more comfortable in water as a general rule. In fact I would say that of us all, only Sulhafah, Maia, and I are very comfortable being on dry land for extended periods of time. As for what fuels the magics of this place? I must confess the details elude me. I do know that Meshaia provids the raw energy and focusing crystals underground absorb and redistribute that power. That power is used to maintain the environment, purify the water, and feed the hydroponic systems. Most of the towers arms are given over to that; cereal grains, herbs, fruit and the like provide enough food for us to live adequately. Fishing provides for our protein requirements. Unfortunately we've been reduced to what we had the foresight to smoke and preserve for the past couple months - nothing leaves this tower or approaches it with the Torch Eyes watching." Krishga Aldebaran nods at you as you conclude your speech. "If thou wishest to aid us, we will not turn down thy offer. As for the table and chairs, do not concern yourself. Alongside our food crops we hath a small forest of Cinnibar Oak and I much prefer carpentry to battle." Branwen Sulhafah shrugs and gulps down the mug in your stead. You sense no reproach at your refusal and if anything, the man is glad to have an excuse. "You shall hear it. Under our master we observed a yearly ritual. Well, festival might be a better way to put it. Everyone was expected to put on a performance of some sort for him. Sulhafah there would cook up a massive feast, Aldebran and the other guards would do mock combats. We even had a comedy routine before a ragworm ate Betelgeuse. Poor guy. Nothing in this world scared that man except ragworms. Anyway. We'd all perform for His amusement and our own, and the festival would end with a retelling of the War. Though uh...it might not be the fancy version we used to do with the songs and the dance and the costumes. We still do the festival for ourselves, for fun. But the Retelling we've not done for a decade now. It's..." She hesitates, the right words not coming easily. "It is fine, Alhena. Like as not we are all going to die tomorrow. If that must be, we will die with the proof of that murderer's grand failure ringing in his hollow metal skull." It is Maia who spoke, and every single one of your hosts turns to stare at her, aghast. Her voice is haunting, and it reminds you very much of Serenity's own, when she would call upon her goddess to aid you in battle. It is almost certain that this woman harbors a similar power. What do you all do? Shardix fucked around with this message at 04:45 on Dec 8, 2020 |
# ? Dec 8, 2020 04:42 |
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ BLOOD: 2 || COURAGE: 1 || GRACE: 2 || SENSE: -1 || WISDOM: 0 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Looks like there’s another reason why we need to scrap those machines. But if mana doesn’t seem to be funneling through... “Did something happen to these crystals?” May as well ask. By what I felt, the tower had plenty of magic stored away, even if I didn't get a pull. I look to my right and see the Drylander, Krishga, looking in a strange way. I followed where she was looking and saw Anasasia being concerned with Branwen. I'm not sure what's going on, but with what Alhena's been talking about in regards to Meshaia... “You think she looked that creature in the eye?” I ask Krishga. AnAnonymousIdiot fucked around with this message at 08:03 on Dec 8, 2020 |
# ? Dec 8, 2020 06:11 |
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Well, better not pester Branwen more about it right now, not in front of everyone and, well, not while we’re planning how to avoid being killed by a robot army who wants to take control of a terrifying blue sun who is apparently alive and can turn people into flesh… things against their will, which might only be the beginning of what it can do! Speaking of which, our new acquaintances are full of all kinds of information - but it seems there’s no scrap for me, nothing for me to repair - not even this table, which I apparently smashed totally needlessly because the front gate was open because it can only be opened by ‘magic’ only nobody knows the magic anymore. Well, pff, I still have lots of ideas for how to prepare for what’s to come. Some lightweight wood from Aldebaran could be used for the casing of… Hmmm. That’ll have to wait! Because what Konas asked...well. Krishga scratches her head. “I… don’t know. Branwen?” She turns towards Alhena, wordlessly asking her if she can see if Branwen is affected, same as she did for Anastasia. But by then, everyone’s focus - at least that of their new acquaintances - is on Maia, on the fact that she has spoken. Even though krishga has only known her for a little while, she suspects that it has been a long, long time since that haunting voice has been heard. Still, it simply does not have as much meaning to her as to the others, and so she waits for a few respectful moments before she continues, though trying to sound serious herself. “Maia. We’re going to do everything we can to make sure nobody has to die tomorrow. I promise. The offs look bad, we are faced with overwhelming opposition, it’s true. But if we stand and work together, well, then there’s no better chances we’re going to get. I think I know a thing or two about digging in and defending your home, and I think you do too. What do you say?” The goblin looks at Maia, Aldebaran, Alhena and the catfish man in turn. Trying to Forge a Bond with as many of the underwater gang as possible. A few more moments pass and then, so does the seriousness on Krishga’s face. “Oh, also, Aldebaran, you’re not getting rid of me and wanting to repair something that easily.” She grins. “How would you like to build something new made out of wood, I have a couple of things in mind, but the first one is something me and Anastasia are going to need, it needs a very special kind of wood… do you have guitars here? Well, we’ll need a very certain type of guitar. Oh, and I suppose I could tell you and Maia how we got past the Watch-Eyes in my Maximus Mk III, right over there.” She points behind her with one thumb extended, the pride in her creation quite apparent.
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# ? Dec 9, 2020 20:33 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +2 || GRA -1 || SEN +0 || WIS +2 Blessings: Strength[ ] || Speed[ ] || Glory[ ] || Power[ ][ ] Gear: Armor[ ] || Fuel[ ][ ][ ] Hilda: Crack Shot[ ] || Quick As A Bullet [ ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bran's face slides into resignation as her companions notice and ask after her. She had wanted a more private conversation with Alhena, perhaps not lay bare it all before learning more... If she failed to emulate the Lonely Brother, then she would do well to emulate the Eldest Moon Bran silently resolves. "I'm fine. Just, startled myself. But yes. When Ana glanced at the Azure Star and came to me, I did more than look upon her. I demanded an answer. And was obliged. A mental image was carved by her, of what I now assume to be her own actions made against this machine army, either of times past or from her desires. I assume that I was less affected by it-" At this Branwen grabs her left forearm and with a short hiss of release, removes and places it onto the table. "-because of my Matron's holy blessing. I am Formavit." Bran pauses, the detached left arm idly drumming fingers against the table as she considers her words. "Tell me, Alhena. Do you know of Formavit?"
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# ? Dec 10, 2020 13:45 |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 || COU +1 || GRA +2 || SEN -1 || WIS +0 STR •• | CNG ⚬⚬ | TUF •• | WPN •••• FOOD ••⚬ | BOOZE •⚬ | TRAP ••• | GEAR •⚬ --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I'd figure they might be familiar to you," I chime in, leaning closer. Alhena's body is fascinating me. Harshly alien, but every inch of her is so clearly sculpted, consciously chosen for maximum aesthetic and practical effect. The folks back home would just eat her up. "Formavit is what happens when a god does to a surface-dweller what your masters did to you. Puts a little of its power into you. Changes you. Makes you over in its image." "Branwen was flesh and blood once, when we were, um, when I knew her. When we were younger. But then I guess the Goddess of Explosions turned her eye 'pon her, and now she's...like this. With the, the detachable arm things. Not gonna lie, raisin Bran, those're pretty neat." "The metal business is new even to me, if I'm honest. To everyone. Formavit were always animals, before, I mean, on the surface. P -- well, elves, still, but the Choir's god-touched were also like animals. Chimeras. Part-person. I was taught the sky-gods were much too distant to give blessing in such a way, but...apparently not, because, uh, here's your counter-example! The power of the sun - the real sun - right here in this room. Tadaaaa." dicebot posted:2d6 Speak Softly with Alhena = (2+5) = 7
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# ? Dec 11, 2020 04:31 |
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Alright, everyone is getting busy with revealing some very interesting facts left and right, and I’m not just talking about Aldebaran, Maia and Alhena talking about vast magical powers! Branwen also looked into the Azure Sun - Meshaia - which was of debatable wisdom, but I can respect the boldness and desire to know. What concerns me a little bit is that she didn’t really say anything in detail about it before, which, in my humble opinion you should do when you’re in an unexplored underground underwater cave of unknown danger and something that can be described with ‘it touched my mind’ happens to you. At least I would want to tell the people next to me, you know? Also, I know Anastasia and Branwen knew each other from before, but that way Anastasia started talking about how it was back then and corrected herself to ‘when I knew her’ - were those two together? As in, romantically engaged? Well, not my business, not right now, anyway. Because, look at that detachable mechanical arm! Or, not mechanical, there aren’t really gears or anything, but… fascinating! I've seen it before, of course, even in action, when me and Branwen made the area around The Raft unsafe. Or safe, debatable. But it lying there relatively motionless is the closest its been to being observable under laboratory conditions. ...I shouldn't just think of the arm as "it", it's part of Branwen, not just some specimen, but think of the possibilities! I mean, Goblins are at the forefront of replacement limbs, comes with being at the forefront of a quickly developing and thus sometimes unsafe industry, but this arm is something else. Even the prothesis I made for dad's leg after the accident pales in comparison to this. What if the replacement limbs for anyone injured didn't have to be some unwieldy thing more akin to industrial equipment but something just as good as the original limb, only metal? Something like this! Krishga cannot help herself and quickly goes over to where Branwen’s arm moves separate from its main body. She pulls a notepad and a pen out from somewhere and jots down notes while observing the arm from all possible angles. “Fascinating.” She takes a final look at her notes, then at the arm, and then, satisfied, nods to herself. The goblin darts around, notepad in hand and addresses Maia and Aldebaran. “As you can see, and this is not meant to be boasting, we are a rather unique group with unique skills to match.” She grins. “So if we’re telling you that there’s hope yet, that we’re going to do all we can to not let anyone one of you get killed come tomorrow, that’s not coming from just anyone.” The Goblin locks eyes with Maia, whose words seemed to have affected everyone so deeply - perhaps just by the sheer fact that she had chosen to speak. Krishga tries to sound reassuring, confident without being arrogant. “Alright?” quote:@Krishga Tazz (nil): 2d6+2 Speak Softly with Maia = (6+3)+2 = 11 nil. fucked around with this message at 19:59 on Aug 13, 2022 |
# ? Dec 11, 2020 20:50 |
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Your guests tear their attention away from Maia. Whatever the truth of this odd matter of her refusal to speak and subsequent resumption of same, nobody is volunteering to explain it right now. Konas Glances are exchanged, and Alhena responds warily. "Yeeees..." She is clearly uncomfortable about this topic but continues on anyway. "1001 had one of the Torch Eyes destroy a crystal as a show of force. We didn't capitulate and he hasn't done it again. It...well, I think he knows just as I do what will happen if they all go. The magics controlling everything here would evaporate. The field that holds the outside ocean at bay, the central water column, all that. But uh, well. The one thing I do know for certain is that Meshaia is contained through the careful regulation of mana and if too many of the crystals are destroyed, she will be freed. I cannot possibly guess at what might happen then. It would not be good for 1001, certainly, but our Master did not suggest to me that Meshaia has any particular obligation to protect or obey any of us either. As it stands, the loss of a single crystal is why Meshaia is able to affect minds as much as she can. An annoying side effect is the upper spires are mostly dead. No climate control or light. Not dangerous to be in, but pretty inconvenient." Krishga Alhena speaks with Konas and is then engaged with Anastasia and Branwen. As you continue on to your request, Aldebaran looks very confused and glances to Alhena. "Guy-tar?" Alhena leans sideways towards him a bit, a little comically. "It's a stringed instrument, an evolution of the gittern. A version that required external amplification through a mechanical device was becoming popular around the time I was taken. They were astonishingly loud." Aldebaran mouths a silent Ah. "And as it happens, I do have one and I managed to hold onto it despite being kidnapped. No amp to go with it, but I bet you could rig something up through your robot." Sulhafah claps his hands over his rotund belly and eyes you through his narrow slitted eyes for a long moment before glancing at Maia and Aldebaran and speaking, gruffly. Maia listens carefully and translates. "Sulhafah says you speak grandiose words, and your companion's weapon proves you lot are capable, at least, of handling the lesser machines. But now is the time for actions, not words. If you have the means to reinforce our defenses, you should do so, and that will be satisfactory for him." She continues. "Speaking personally, I agree. Confidence is commendable, but we need concrete steps. How do you propose to help us protect ourselves and our home? That is what we wish to hear." It seems you can indeed get what you wish, but you'll need to put in the work first. You can forge a bond with them all as well as bring them to your fellowship's side once you make concrete steps towards aiding them in protecting their home. Anastasia You make small talk with Alhena briefly, the drinks bringing out your chatty side. She is interrupted for a moment by Aldebaran inquiring as to what a guitar is, and you have to wonder just how old that guy is. The guitar as an instrument predates your mother. Branwen "No, the word is unfamiliar to me." She glances back and forth between you and Anastasia. "Nor do I care much for the doings of gods. In my experience they are self-absorbed and useless when actually needed. They all sat silent when my life was stolen from me, in spite of my pleas. But I can perhaps agree that Meshaia's power is akin to theirs - a terrible and violent thing, used casually against those incapable of protecting themselves from it." Anger flashes like lightning in Alhena's voice and she quickly collects herself. "I apologize. That is a sore subject for me." A glance at her hands shows her unclenching her fists, and her claws are tipped in spots of black ichorous blood. Anastasia From your own conversation prior and what she reveals in speaking to Bran, it is clear this woman has not had a pleasant life. Kidnapped at a young age by an abyss wyrm, made into an inhuman creature by it for inscrutable purposes, and left to grow up among people from cultures vastly different from her own. Not even in possession of an amplifier for her electric guitar! This combined with some subtle hints you picked up earlier, strongly suggest to you that what she most wants is to get out of here. Not that she dislikes her adopted family, but the most formative years of her life were stolen and now she is stuck at the bottom of the sea, rotting away. It is not unlike your own feelings when you were condemned to solitary confinement in the Dominion. As for what she would have you do next? Who can say. What do you do? Shardix fucked around with this message at 09:34 on Dec 14, 2020 |
# ? Dec 13, 2020 05:50 |
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# ? Apr 18, 2024 00:10 |
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ BLOOD: 2 || COURAGE: 1 || GRACE: 2 || SENSE: -1 || WISDOM: 0 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Well, that’s where Krishga and I may start. And perhaps know more about how they’ve refined the raw mana with those crystals. “Would you know where that crystal may be?” Probably somewhere Oceanside, which means chancing those snipers planting themselves outside.
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# ? Dec 13, 2020 23:45 |