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Offline Shadoweagle

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« on: February 26, 2004, 08:20:26 AM »
The citadel of Strolen is truly a wondrous place. People arrive in it from all dimensions, and are not forced to stay at all, though many do simply due to the pleasantness of it. It is a tranquil nexus, where the denizens happily converse with each other and share imaginitive ideas and their brilliance. Many who enter this nexus take up the occupation of bieng scribes, wherein they write on a magical papyrus (devised by the lord Strolen), descriptions of various objects and ideas, and store them in the few buildings which accomodate them: The Items library; the Characters Sanctuary; the Settings Museum; and the Ideas guild.

These scribes have the ability to invoke the powers of these scrolls at will - calling upon Items for them to use, or summoning creatures for aid or protection. Sending people to various settings or changing a characteristic of someone by invoking the powers of an idea. The use of these scrolls are very taxing, however, and only two or three may be used in the period of a day, lest one render themselves in a comatose state for months on end. Once a scroll is invoked, it will magically burn away to nothing until a scribe gets ahold of the weapon, person, setting or idea, and uses the powers given by their benevolant lord 'Strolen', to reverse the effects, once again placing it back in written word to be stored again.
Yes, this nexus is truly a terrific place where, dispite the occasional roudy individuals which take up residence, everybody gets along harmoniously.

But then, One cannot own paradise, without others trying to take it for their own.

From other dimensions in this vast, vast universe, comes others occasionally - not to take up residence and stay under the rule of Strolen and his select few lords, but who are jealous of the greatness in the citadel, and choose to raid the town to try and thieve the valuable stores of knowledge in each of those buildings. These evil biengs can be of all shapes and sizes, from furballs, to mighty dragons. Usually, they are of little problem, as they are disorganised and can be beaten back using the power of the scrolls, but What if, one day, a rival nexus (not as powerful as Strolens citadel, of course, but still powerful) were to form a group or clan of some sort and invade? How would the people of this Citadel hold together? What tricks will they use? What scrolls will they invoke? Should one destroy the 'overmind' of this group, of course, the rest of the forces would fall into disarray and become confused - therefore making it little trouble to dispatch the remainder of the army.

All Characters must play as themselves - not to pick out anyone specifically but if, for example, you happen to be a penguin in some fool costume... lets say a pirate costume... that would be your physical makeup  Or if you happened to be a large dragon taking residence in a barn? Thats what you would be.
But penquins can be wily and sneaky, and underestimated, and dragons can be too large for their own good at times...
Plus the physical powers of people doesnt matter too much when they have the power of the scrolls to use, not to mention the several magi within the Citadel who have access to their powers to an extent.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The black-robed figure of shadoweagle smiled faintly as he dipped the tip of his raven-feathered quill into the inkpot, then wrote the last few words in an elagent, flowing text onto the magical papyrus, signing his name and thusly labelling it his creation. Aah, The gloves of the soul-mage, It will be interesting to see how the other denezins of the citadel will react to this item. Shadoweagle shifted back in his seat, exhaling in pleasure as he allowed the soft talk of the several people in the tavern to wash over him. Yes, he was new to this place, but he felt he was slowly adjusting to it - enjoying it and growing accustomed to the life. He had only written up some six or so scrolls, but he felt he was getting the hang of it quite rapidly.
Shadoweagle rolled up the scroll and studied it in pleasure. Yes, this was certainly a good life. His gaze now shifts over to the other people in the Tavern, some drinking a mug of grog, some just chatting to each other, sharing thoughts and ideas between each other to create the best solutions. Shadoweagle grabbed his scroll and pushed back his chair, standing - time to place this in the archives for items.

Shadoweagle had not taken more than one step before he halted, blinking. What was that most odd sensation gripping upon the stores of his magic? ... Abruptly, in the center of the tavern, a vertical slit in the very fabric of reality cleaved across the empty space in the pub, before a pair of hands slipped through the thin hole made and tore that slit open - as though someone on the other side of a sheet of material had cut and ripped through. A grubby little goblin leapt forth from that hole in reality, jumping from a distorted world through into the citadel. The goblin was small and wiry, though slightly muscled. It wore nothing but a plain, brown  loincloth covering its lower regions, and it held in its hand a shortsword, simple in design, though a thick, black grease-like substance was smeared along its edge - poison, obviously.

The goblins face seemed to register surprise for a moment - as though it had ended up in a place it didnt mean to end up in - but its features quickly turned menacing as it glared at the random occupants of the tavern before screeching to the room in general "This citadel will soon be ours, along with the power it holds! Our great leader Khantrith will see to it!" Upon the utterance of these words, Shadoweagle abruptly felt the disturbance of magic once more, though not quite as strong - seems more of these strange 'portals' were bieng opened all throughout the area... Directly after the goblin spoke its words in its high-pitched tone, it launched itself towards the nearest of the occupant of the tavern, poisoned sword swinging towards the persons midsection.

[OOC]People may post their attempted attacks and dodges in their posts, and the GM's will decide whether it hit or miss.Additionally: Try to be at least semi-realistic. For an example - dont cast huge spells with the flick of a hand, take a couple posts to 'charge it up' or whatever. Have fun.[/OOC]
Lazarus Lightward, Elite Diabolist of the Brotherhood - Level 3 Occultist
Deathpriest Noxx, Herald of Eternal Silence – Level 2 Necromancer
STR: 2 | END: 2 | CON: 4 | DEX: 2 | CHA: 12 | INT: 13


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Offline Ria Hawk

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #1 on: February 26, 2004, 07:47:43 PM »
Ria Hawk pushed her spectacles up her nose and looked at the scroll she had just finished.  People were her specialty, and everyone needed a homicidal pyschopath every now and then.  She took it to the Sanctuary.
As she emerged from the building and headed towards the tavern, she absently summoned a cookie.  She hoped Shadoweagle was asking riddles again; she felt in the mood for a word game.
As she crossed the courtyard, she felt a ripple of magic.  She turned just in time to see a hole open up behind her, and a goblin step out.  She sighed.  Looked like it was time to call the militia again.  Then she felt several more ripples, and several more creatures appeared.  "Crud."  And they looked like they had poisoned weapons, too.  She looked around, and then bolted.  She could manage a healing spell or two, but she didn't have experience with this sort of thing.  The tavern was the closest building and she ran for it.
"The Citadel's under attack!"  Then she glanced around.  "Oh.  I see you noticed."
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

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Offline Luke Lavin

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #2 on: February 27, 2004, 12:50:41 AM »
Luke Lavin scribbled at a furios pace on a new Setting forming in his head, he rubbed the sore spot where he had broken his knee.  He sighed he lost his train of thought again and rolled up the scroll and stuff it in the pocket of his robe's.  He needed some grog and thought a good chat with Cap'n would get his head back on track.  He walked slwoly across the courtyard, suddenly Ria came running, "The Citadel's underattack."  

Luke looked up and realized that little gaps in reality had been popping up when he was day dreaming.  The first beasty came at him with a poison short sword.  Luke pulled the lightsaber of his belt and it's orange blade flashed into action ready to strike a blow to the goblin's head...

Offline MoonHunter

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« Reply #3 on: February 27, 2004, 05:29:19 AM »
Despite years of waundering through myrid dimensions....
Despite years of protest and denial....
Despite claiming he was merely a healer or a teacher...
Despite claims that he was just following his calling...

MoonHunter was in his element.  

He was deep in combat...

and enjoying every adrenaline charged moment of it.

Everywhere he turned more of the Hobgoblin creatures were there.  Everywhere he sensed one, he intiated the same ballet of death. Twisting cross rake, a pressing of flesh, the scent of sweat and fear, a flash of claws, the flow of blood over the fur, and the thud of a dead or dying hobgoblin occured. Over and over he repeated his practiced attacks.  His blood sang loudly in the frenzy.  

Being a TDDE (Temporally Dimensional displaced entity) he was familiar with that "charge" that occurs when a gate is to open.  It was like the scent of ozone just after a strong rain with lightning. Yet it was something you just felt. It was a great feeling.  It always meant a great adventure was about occur for MoonHunter.

Even without TDE,  Temporal Dimensional Empathy, he would of known the opening of a non bounded gate in the Citadel was an event that warrented caution.  He initiated the change before the field of the gate formed.  In the process of a minute or so, he acheived a simple lupine morph. His new fur in various shades of brown. Scary to the uninitiated, but still enough to deal with most things.  His senses snaked out through the ether, in an attempt to feel where this gate originated.  He winced as he hit the counter measures.  The pain was... intense. And that was coming from a Theriothrope, one whos bones would break and flow like butter, whos muscles and tendons were always being streched in unnatural ways, and who suffered this pain and near death only to be who they true are.  The gate fully formed as he clutched desperately for threads of power in the haze.  

The tall redish hobgoblins spilled out of the gate.  They were confident that they had achieved beachead, as their mere presence in the North tower had caused one furry humanoid to fall to his knees and heave.  

The heaving was actually his shaking as his body extended to the next change.  The advantage of a being a true theriothrope is that there are two minds in each body; one man and one beast striving for a balance.  In a disciplined and balanced mind, this allows for thought and instinct to work at the same time with seperate focus.  While many quipped he was quite unbalanced, MoonHunter took advantage of his duality frequently.  

His mind was free to lecture himself, as it was won't to do. "The point of sorcery is much the same as Akiedo. Use as little force as possible by simple redirecting what exists.  Simple spells are better.  Such he had drilled into himself. In stressful situations, which MoonHunter often found himself, you do what you practice.  Given MoonHunters colorful life, he had more than one opportunity to practice this manuver in the field.

He unleashed a simple spell of empathy three pounding heartbeasts after the gate fully formed and the boots touch down.  In a cone like pattern before him, he shared his pain of transformation.  This was his trueform he was reaching for, his ultimate expression.  Imagine your entire body in a cramp. Every muscle. Imagine the itch that occurs when injuries heal, when skin and hair grown on a scale a thousand times faster. New nerves grew, in an attempt to keep pace with the body, bringing every painful sensation to his central nervous system.  He gained 150 Kgs, a foot and a half of height, and a great deal of white fur as his body exploded into magical growth.  His muscles screamed in protest as they were force grown. Bones became clay and his jaw distended in a horrible fashion. New bones issued forth as he grew white feathered wings. The pain of such a transformation was known to kill children of the moon who were not properly prepared.

And all those who shared this pain with him were not prepared.  

They fell. They screamed. They died of the sensation.

In the brief moment of quiet, MoonHunter felt the gate.  The edges were "wobbly", and the begining to torque. Dimensional Shear began.  

Unfortunately the mage who focused the gate was one of those who died.  

The thought of Hellfire! did nothing to really to illuminate the issue. The gate was unstable. That was Bad. That was Giant Twinkie sort of bad. It was cross the streams sort of bad.  It was going to destroy a small portion of this reality if he could not get it under control.  

There was this small problem of the Horde that was pouring though the gate. Oblivious to the danger to reality, they followed their orders and ran over the bodies of their fallen comrades.  They were motivated and skilled.  The psuedo uniform they all worn told volumes about who was behind all this.  His mind waundered, trapped in the frenzy of blood and death, "Well they will if I can get to the right books in the library.". However, his body was focused on more immediate needs.

MoonHunter struck and struck and struck any living thing.  He defended the door to this high tower room.  He knew the havoc these things could cause among the other scribes.  He knew eventually the horde would run out or the bodies would plug the gate.  Either way he needed that break sooner than later, or else things would go from bad to worse.  

(For those that don't know... An Angel-Wolf is what strikes here. A rippling mass of muscle, fur, and claw in the Crinos of WhiteWolf tradition.  The wings are an addition that don't work well in non astreal situations.. gliding at best.  The claws are hand like. His mouth will not allow much in the way of verbal communication. Empathy and animal speak is the best he can muster at this point. Two thumbs and a tail up is what I do.   I think I am going to be self involved in this little drama for a post or three... having to dig myself out of this problem... I will join up with you all soon. )
MoonHunter
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"The road less traveled is less traveled for a reason."
"The world needs dreamers to give it a soul."
"And it needs realists to keep it alive."
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Offline CaptainPenguin

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #4 on: March 02, 2004, 08:19:36 PM »
Captain Penguin blinked as he stared into the unfamiliar skies above. The sun was very bright indeed, and every forest noise grated on his post-drunk ears.
"D'arr...Me hangover...."
He removed a small porcelain bottle from a strap on the sleeve of his jacket and swigged from it.
"Tha's better!" he said, grinning a piratical grin, and standing. "Now where'd I put me scrolls..."
After a small search, he located them, and stuffed them carelessly into one of his many voluminous pockets. He swigged again from his small bottle, and, drawing his wooden toy sword, tried to orient himself according to the sun, before remembering that the sun is very bright indeed, and cursing as he slipped on his goggles to help his eyes.
He looked to the west. There, down the forested slope, was the Citadel, standing proudly on the north-marching road. Several travelers de-horsed outside the gates, calling to the sentries above.
But what was that in the North Tower?
"Oh, bloody 'ell!" the penguin grated, exasperated. The therianthrope was at it again.
"Well, better go an' 'elp." he said in his disjointed pirate-speak and began to march in his beer-soaked boots through the forest.
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Offline Ria Hawk

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #5 on: March 02, 2004, 08:36:27 PM »
Ria dodged something that flew at her head, then decided that it looked safer over by the bar.  She dashed across the room and ducked behind it.  As she pushed her spectacles back up, her gaze happened to fall on a bottle of the Captain's grog.  She grinned in a manner that could only be described as mischievious as an idea struck her.  That grog had a hellacious alcohol level...  Before she could put her idea into action, she felt another ripple of magic, and glanced out the window.  More portals in the yard behind the tavern.  Well, she could do something about that maybe.
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

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Offline MoonHunter

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Havoc Part II
« Reply #6 on: March 03, 2004, 06:58:42 AM »
MoonHunter's change of tactic was working well.  Throwing the dead, dying, or less conscious HobGoblins through the gate had the desired effect.  First it had stopped the outpour of hobgoblins through the gate.  They would appear. He would throw a hobgoblin at them; knocking them both back through the gate.  Secondly, it was clearing some footing for him, as the room was several Hobgoblins deep in some spots.  

While it was giving him some breathing room, it was not resolving the main issue at hand... the out of control gate.  

He reached out with his magics in an attempt to obtain control of the oscillating whirl of transdimensional energies.  The threads and links were forged. Though distracted once by one HobGoblin poking a head through (and the resulting body hurled at her), MoonHunter managed to achieve a proper link to the gate.  

There was just one problem. He could not generate enough energy to overcome the unstable wormhole the gate had become.  

MoonHunter looked about the room trying to see how long the gate would be contained.  Then he saw it, the waunder's bag with the scrolls, linking books, and gems, he was studying.  He literally pounced on the bag.  His frustration grew as he opened his bag and remembered the new color coded sorting system he was toying with.  The trade off for being able to see into the infrared and ultraviolet spectrums (as well as fur covered muscled as claws) was no color vision and farsightedness.  He struggled to determine which scroll would be best, while not being able to concentrate on seeing what the scroll was because he was maintaining his link to the gate.  

He took a deep breath, unfurled a scroll.....

::Pass to Any Player::

(To be continued in part III.  I will get a die and roll it at home, to determine which MoonHunter scroll is used. I could just choose, but what would be the fun in that....)  
MoonHunter
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"The world needs dreamers to give it a soul."
"And it needs realists to keep it alive."
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Offline Ria Hawk

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #7 on: March 08, 2004, 12:47:40 AM »
Ria hurled the bottle (followed by several more) into the courtyard,  They all shattered, splashing liquor everywhere.  She grinned.  Right on target.  The invaders snickered at her, laughing at her seemingly bad aim.  She just kept grinning.  She knew a variety of useful minor spells, things like summoning various things, very minor healing... and a spark spell.  She generally used it to light candles and lamps when she worked late into the night and couldn't be bothered to get up and do it manually.  But she could use it to light something a hell of a lot bigger and more destructive.  The invaders had time to wonder why she was still grinning like a madwoman before she set off the spark spell.  The alcohol made a very satisfying "fwoosh" sound when it went up.  And it even looked like she had managed to avoid setting anything structurally important on fire.  She turned back to the inside of the tavern to see what other mischief she could get up to.
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

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Offline Luke Lavin

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #8 on: March 08, 2004, 08:41:50 PM »
Luke finished his slash and sent a goblin head rollig along the courtyard, he heard a fwooshing sound flames sweeped along the ground, "d**n't Ria I'm still out here too."  Luke leapt up onto a barrel then hopped onto a crate then through the tavern window.  Luke landed landed in a heap and his lightsaber turned off when his thumb slipped off the control stud.  

He plucked a piece of glass out of leg and rubbed his bottom his tail bone was sore.  Luke stood up and lit up the lightsaber it's faint orange glow played against his face.  He looked to Ria, "What now?"

Offline Shadoweagle

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #9 on: March 08, 2004, 10:18:18 PM »
[OOC] Many apologies for my slow, infrequent posts. I have a lot of things going on in real life and cant make it on too often -_-[/OOC]

The small blaze which Ria had caused using her spark cantrip flared over the few creatures which were standing foolishly over the alcohol. None survived of course, and soon their screeches of agony faded into the crackling of the fire, which continued burning for the moment, but was not in any immediate danger of destroying anything irreplacable.
-------------------------

Shadoweagle was new to this type of thing - he had only arrived in the citadel not long ago, so his expression was, of course, quirked in discomfort and worry. The first goblin which he had sighted had made a lunge for him, but just barely missed creating a gash in his midsection - material from his robes tear upon the tip of the rusty sword. Fortunately, the force of the swing of the goblin caused the light-framed creature to stumble, and Shadoweagle used that opportunity to raise a foot and smash it into the side of the creatures head, aiding in its unbalancing and causing it to topple over, bashing its head into a heavyset table, rendering it unconscious.

Shadoweagle glanced around - seemed that was the only one in the tavern, and so he walked swiftly forth to the door of the Tavern, nodding faintly at Luke and Ria. "What would happen if they manage to get into the scroll stores...? Perhaps we should search through them all and secure them?" Dispite his fear at this invasion, he was also excited - this was his chance to test his worthiness for the citadel!

----------------------
Of course, no sooner than his words were spoken, did a split in reality etch its way along the atmosphere just behind the three. Out from this distorted hole came not a goblin, but a figure garbed all in black - headgear, gloves, body-suit, as though a figure of a cliche ninja, but jutting from atop the new arrival's head was a twin set of wickedly curved horns, bone-coloured. Closer observation of the hands would show also, that the fingers behind those gloves came to a sharp point. What manner of beast it was, none could determine, but behind the mask the beast released a slow, menacing, reptilian growl as it lowered to a near-crouch, readying itself for an attack.
---------------------------

Shadoweagle uttered a faint curse beneath his breath at the sight of this abomination, and took a hurried step back, almost stumbling on the hem of his robes. His gaze shifted back and forth between Ria and Luke to observe their reactions, and his hands clenched tightly to calm himself.
Which, of course, is when he realised he was still holding his newly written scroll. Swallowing, he raised that scroll and unrolled it, eyes scanning over it - he had never called upon a scroll before, and had no idea if he could even do it, yet. Not to mention that this scroll was new, untested. Well, may as well try it - one does not live forever. Shadoweagle opened his mind, directing thoughts and linking to the scroll as he raised his right index finger and traced over the title: "Gloves of the Soul-Mage"

From the centre of the scroll and spiraling rapidly outwards, brilliant yellow flames erupted, utterly decimating the scroll until not even ash remained, and Shadoweagles shoulders slumped in failure. But a second or so afterwards, a soft 'thunk' registered at his feet and he peered downwards. There, resting inconspicuously on the ground were a set of plain, black gloves.

((Used Scrolls in this post: [item=274], Gloves of the Soul-Mage))
Lazarus Lightward, Elite Diabolist of the Brotherhood - Level 3 Occultist
Deathpriest Noxx, Herald of Eternal Silence – Level 2 Necromancer
STR: 2 | END: 2 | CON: 4 | DEX: 2 | CHA: 12 | INT: 13


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Offline Luke Lavin

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #10 on: March 09, 2004, 05:35:10 PM »
As Shadow chanted Luke called to the nija lizerd, "Hey you scaly, yeah you stupid come get me."  Luke planted his feet and heald the shaft of lightsaber towards his hips with the tip of the orange blade aimed towards the creatures throat.  Luke made an obscene gesture with his middle finger then made gestured for it to come get him with his pointer finger which in some cultures was the motion to call a hor from an alley.

Offline MoonHunter

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Havoc III
« Reply #11 on: March 10, 2004, 05:41:27 AM »
http://www.strolen.com/npc/index.php?profile=214

MoonHunter focused his energies to release the matrix trapped in the scroll.  He had written all of the ones in the room, as well as the several linking books to worlds of his recent fancy.  His spirit hummed and the matrix was released.

Expecting an Orb (odds on chance), MoonHunter jumped back as an old wrinkled man appeared.  Stooped over, he appeared the stereotypical wizard, ugly purple pointy hat and all.  

"Oh. Who are you?  Did I make you?"

MoonHunter whinned in frustration.  This was absolutely the last scroll he wanted to pull. Even the Evil Orb would of been more helpful.

"Oh. I'm sorry doggie." Covus said while looking past the hulking theriothrope.  "Round. Round. Round. It should be round. Who would make such a silly thing? Not an orb of course, but round never the less. "

He held up his hands into his field of vision, making an odd oval shape that matched the gateway. The Gateway was off sized for the room. It was eating into the floor of the room, causing stone to just disappear. It was already letting in daylight from the wall and the ceiling.  

"Let me see who this silly one is? Oh. He is dead. Well he deserves it for making such an off shaped gateway. Bad craftsmanship. That is what is wrong with mages these day, no sense of pride."

MoonHunter would imagine Corvus watching the expanding gateway absorb him just to see what would happen.  Frustrated, he pointed at the gateway and made a plaintive sound.  

"Oh. Right. Too dangerous to just let that lie around."  With a clap, he closed the rogue gateway.  

With a very human sigh, MoonHunter sank knees to the floor.  

"Oh poor puppie is tired. Shall I get us some icecream? Pistachio or MangaNut?"

MoonHunter toyed with the scroll in his claws.  He was not sure if the crazed master wizard would be more or less destructive than the Goblins.
MoonHunter
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"The road less traveled is less traveled for a reason."
"The world needs dreamers to give it a soul."
"And it needs realists to keep it alive."
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Offline Ria Hawk

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #12 on: March 17, 2004, 02:44:22 PM »
Ria watched as Shadoweagle summoned his gloves.  He'd told her about those; someone was about to have a very bad day.  She felt another wrench of magic; someone was summoning something else.  "I hope that was a Citadelian."  She dodged a sword swipe.  Now would be a very good time to retreat and regroup.  "Maybe we should think about getting over to the scrolls," she said mildly.  "Distraction... distraction... ah!"  At one point, when they were bored, she and Shadoweagle had been having a mock-war.  A magical war.  She'd learned a few interesting, but mostly harmless spells in the course of that.  She summoned some purple winged monkeys.  Well, they weren't real monkeys, only constructs.  Didn't matter.  Maybe they would distract the invaders long enough for them to slip away.
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Offline Shadoweagle

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #13 on: March 17, 2004, 05:18:00 PM »
[OOC]Uuh, not scaly, and not a lizard, Luke... Just a reptilian-like growl :)[/OOC]

Ria's purple flying monkeys were fine to distract and confuse the majority of the several creatures nearby, but the 'devlish ninja' creature was not to be distracted from it's task. The creature gave a soft, stuttering hiss - which could be likened to mocking laughter - at Lukes obscene gestures, and instead of leaping forth to attack the trio, it gave a motion of its hand in a horizontal, semi-circular arc at the three. The result of this was a wave of telekinetic energy flowing forth swiftly to strike the three and hopefully throw them back. The main intention of the creatures magical usage, however, was to try and force Lukes lightsaber back, getting it out of the way for a clean attack, or perhaps even forcing it back to slice that weapon into the mans own flesh. Without awaiting a result of this attack, the creature then lunged forth towards the one it deemed most threatening, - Luke - swinging its claws in an open handed upper-cutting motion in attempts to rake those sharp talons up from the Jedi's midsection to neck. Certainly, this was no weak, foolish goblin they dealt with.

---------------------------

Shadoweagle, of course, was flung back, caught completely off-guard by the telekinetic blast, and thrown down a small ways out into the courtyard. The blast had thrown his gloves with him, however, and he quickly grasped onto them, scrambling to a crouch and slipping them on. Still, he pauses though, orienting himself and watching to see where both friends and foe are. Dispite his worry, he could not help but give a faint smile at the sight of those monkeys. Normally they were set after him. Of course, he agreed with Ria's suggestion of getting to the scrolls, but first there was the threat this demonic creature to worry about.

[OOC]Sorry if my posts make little sense - I'm extremely tired at the moment :P[/OOC]
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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #14 on: March 17, 2004, 09:06:29 PM »
A prodigious stream of expletives rent the air as Captain Penguin beheld the gates.
A hundred wagons, at the least, stood in a line, awaiting the opening of the gates. All of their riders seemed very unfazed by the amazing conflagration within.
"Git outta' my way!" Captain Penguin howled, and began to leap comically against the wall, arms scrabbling in an attempt to climb the straight masonry.
"Bloody 'ell!" said the pirate, and flung a small porcelain bottle of liquor over the battlements.

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Offline Luke Lavin

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #15 on: March 17, 2004, 09:25:37 PM »
OOC: Gotcha  :wink:

Luke placed his heals on the ground and was physically moved back a couple of yards, the blade sizzled and took the blunt of the attack.  The force nearly sent Luke toppling, he regained his balance and faced the attacker.

The orange blade hummed and sizzled through the air., the hissing dark ninja creature leapt forth with his gleaming, deadly, claws.  Luke feinted a startled look and held out his lightsaber in a poor but not too clusmy block.  The nano sceonds seemed to slow down.  Luke locked eyes with the creature of darkness and his resolve grew to defend his friends.  At the last possible time he side stepped out of reach of those vicious claws and stabbed his lightsaber at the creeture's flank.

Offline MoonHunter

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« Reply #16 on: March 18, 2004, 04:45:06 AM »
MoonHunter held the scroll in both hands as the old man was sucked in.  

"That is kind of cool looking, in a very wierd way," he thought casually.  

Tucking the scroll back in his carry bag, MoonHunter surveyed the room.  Odd noises were slipping in through the window.  The tower window was vastly too small for his new form to get a good look out of.  

Quickly he climbed up the inset latter and threw the bolt on the tower door.  The wind was fierce this high up, cold and fast enough to be felt through his fur.  He surveyed the area below.  There were goblins, hobgoblins, and other minion types, in small groups everywhere in the citadel.  He saw a few scribes near the tavern.  

With a powerful leap, he was airborn.  While he could not fly in this milieu, he could glide....

He would join his friends in a moment.
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Offline Ria Hawk

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #17 on: March 23, 2004, 12:48:22 PM »
Ria sighed.  Something needed to be done, and quickly.  She didn't know how long Luke could hold up against the ninja... thing, and she didn't dare to try to set it on fire at the moment.  She never went armed; there had been no need.  An idea occured to her, a way she might could tip the scales long enough to do some good.  She quickly ticked off her summons to herself.  Monkeys, cookies, candles, quills, ink, pies...  That was it.  She experimentally twitched a spell, and got what she wanted.  A pie.  A very sticky pie.  "Hey!  Ugly!"  Hoping the thing would turn around, she threw the pie.  If she aimed it right, it would catch it right in the face, at the least blinding it or causing it one or two other problems.
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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #18 on: March 28, 2004, 12:01:43 AM »
"Hey! HEEEEEEEY! HEEEEEEEEEEEEY!"
Captain Penguin bellowed from a crumbling drain on the eastern wall, in which he had of late gotten himself stuffed into.
He muttered darkly, trying to wriggle further through to get into the Citadel. "Bloody....Blasted....Grubbage...Grubbage..."
But suddenly, there was a small snap, and the pirate unleashed an obscenity so foul that it blistered the air, warped the stone, and, if there had been any around to hear it, would have burst eardrums.
"Bloody bones! Getting in my *&%$# way! GAAAAARAAAAH! #&#^%#(! Bloody !$#@##% tear the J#(%&#(^ your orange bleedingJ#!@#$!#@$#@($#$(#@$@#%(#@%#@(%#@(%J# %#$%#$(%#s out!"
He gasped and went limp.
"My ship for a flask of wine!" he called weakly.
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Offline Ria Hawk

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #19 on: March 30, 2004, 11:28:18 PM »
(OOC: Somebody post, d**n ye!  It's too soon for me to post again.)
Sometimes angels fall from grace, and sometimes heroes die.

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #20 on: March 31, 2004, 01:19:02 AM »
The black-garbed beast watched Luke's movements diligently, carefully studying his every move... up until the point that Ria called out to it. The creature gave a wicked snarl and shifted its gaze to her, deftly twitching its head to allow the pie to glide harmessly past it, splattering into the outer wall of the pub. The creature gave that same, mocking laughter and shifted its head to gaze once again at Luke - just in time to feel the blade of Lukes weapon glide easily into its flank. A gargling, deathly sound gasped forth through its mouth as it twitched at the feel of the energy weapon tearing apart its stomach, and though it was half-dead, it still swung its claws frantically at the jedi, attempting to at least draw SOME blood before it died. Whether or not it managed to injure luke in any way, after a few seconds it would crumple to the ground, mainly lifeless, and with just the occasional twitch of a limb.

---------------------

Shadoweagle stared dumbly for some time as the creature is impaled by Lukes lightsaber, and he raises to his feet, idly dusting his robes off. After some times silence, wishing he could have done more to help, he shakes his head faintly to recollect his thoughts. "Ok, the character stores is closest... lets go there!" He began walking at a steady, almost hurried pace towards the building, glancing back to see where the others were.
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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #21 on: March 31, 2004, 01:21:51 AM »
The black-garbed beast watched Luke's movements diligently, carefully studying his every move... up until the point that Ria called out to it. The creature gave a wicked snarl and shifted its gaze to her, deftly twitching its head to allow the pie to glide harmessly past it, splattering into the outer wall of the pub. The creature gave that same, mocking laughter and shifted its head to gaze once again at Luke - just in time to feel the blade of Lukes weapon glide easily into its flank. A gargling, deathly sound gasped forth through its mouth as it twitched at the feel of the energy weapon tearing apart its stomach, and though it was half-dead, it still swung its claws frantically at the jedi, attempting to at least draw SOME blood before it died. Whether or not it managed to injure luke in any way, after a few seconds it would crumple to the ground, mainly lifeless, and with just the occasional twitch of a limb.

---------------------

Shadoweagle stared dumbly for some time as the creature is impaled by Lukes lightsaber, and he raises to his feet, idly dusting his robes off. After some times silence, wishing he could have done more to help, he shakes his head faintly to recollect his thoughts. "Ok, the character stores is closest... lets go there!" He began walking at a steady, almost hurried pace towards the building, glancing back to see where the others were.
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Offline MoonHunter

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« Reply #22 on: March 31, 2004, 01:42:58 AM »
Any landing you could walk away from, without regeneration, was a good one.  So, though scoring a 2.2 on artistic merrit, it got the job done. He plopped down a little distance behind everyone else, who were proceeding somewhere with some effort.  They looked behind them and he simply waved his massive claw in as friendly a manner as he could generate.  

He loped to catch up to them.
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Offline Luke Lavin

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #23 on: March 31, 2004, 09:55:22 AM »
Luke felt his self confidence swell as he cut through the beast's stomach it's guts plopped onto the ground, in a dealth throe one of it's neetle sharp claws smashed down on Luke's foot piercing the top and nailing it to the stone cobles.  Luke howled then flicked his wrist and severed the hand from the creature but it's claw remained imbedded in his foot. With another flick of his wrist he severed the creatures head which rolled to a stop facing Luke.  

The black wound bubbled up blood around the steel claw and the skin was turning a sick green color.  Luke cursed then plucked the thing out which cuased more blood to flow forth.  He wripped of his sleeve and started wrapping up both holes, top and bottom in his foot.

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[Strolens Citadel] Plight of the Scribes
« Reply #24 on: March 31, 2004, 08:41:59 PM »
Strolen's small maw yawned as he awoke from a deep slumber. He had spent the morning with the Piecewise Librarian cleaning up broken grog barrels and planting new grass and was taking a well deserved rest. Piecewise had a melancholy posture, probably reflecting on his missing body again. Hard to get used to seeing a depressed hand.

Strolen scurried down the tree letting his wings take him the last few feet to rest lightly in the grass. Strolen tried to get Piecewise out of the library as often as possible to divert his thoughts.

Looking towards home across the splotches of brown grass from previous resting places of used, and sometimes full, grog barrels Strolen sees a blush of smoke coming from inside the Citadel walls. I thought today was taco day? Why would they be grilling? Strolen was in the mood for some good grilled meat so no worries, always nice to have a surprise lunch.

"Come on Piece, lets get a move on, by the look of that smoke all that will be left will be little burnt biscuit looking things with a tough bite and no taste." Piecewise came out of its musing and started scampering along with the antlered squirrel.

The more he looked at it, the odder the plumes of smoked looked. It wasn't but a minute or so until Strolen figured out something was drastically wrong. The fact that the smoke was blacker then the last barbecue and the fact that a goblin just ran past towards the Citadel made him decide something was definitely amiss. Looking down at Piecewise bouncing up and down and pointing to a small mixed group of weapon bearing creatures running right towards them also cued him in on some oddities.

"Blasted Piece, we just seeded that lawn and look how they trample it." Piece was in complete agreement as it shaped into threatening fist and shook towards the approaching enemy. "Well, there have been quite a few handy scrolls and items available lately…what have I been wanted to try?"

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