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Author Topic: Guardians of the Citadel  (Read 107065 times)

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Offline valadaar

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #625 on: February 03, 2015, 08:20:48 PM »
"That can't be a very tradition," said Valadaar quietly to the nearest of his companions, "I guess they haven't heard of dysentery.  I'd avoid drinking the water if they think this is a good idea."


With his freedom, he cleaned himself, using water he boiled himself down by half.  Then he took to snooping around, being half-stealthy, not wishing to look too obviously sneaking.

"Must be the Lawful neutral  or Evil type monks" he thought to himself.  Their blase reaction to the deaths made it hard to believe otherwise.

   
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Offline Celsia Frostblossom

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #626 on: February 03, 2015, 10:04:37 PM »
Greeted by the monks, the frosted warrior-woman bowed low, though her eyes remained up, her right fist wrapped in her open left hand, a gesture of deep respect. "We thank you for your welcome - When we saw the bodies of your brothers, we worried that you might need our aid in fending off their attackers." As the burial was explained, Celsia nodded once, in understanding. "May they know the embrace of the waters, and find peace in the unknowable depths." It had the sound of ritual benediction to it, her voice quiet, yet convicted.

As the conversation progressed, she added, simply, "The Alchemist has need of the flesh and tooth of a dracolisk for her cure. I have need of its death, but as mentioned, it is somewhat beyond us at the moment." For a moment, there was something deep down in the tones of her quiet, level voice, but shortly, it glassed over, and was still.

As the group began to wander the monastery, she took the time to perform what small ablutions she needed to be clean, before heading down to eat, which she did but sparingly, picking at the bread and lentils, though she drank heavily of water, and when the grandmaster was spoken of, she listened intently, her head tilted and her cold eyes attentive. Aliens from there to here. Powerful beings leaving here, and going... there? A connection had to be there. "When, Brother?"
« Last Edit: February 03, 2015, 10:06:25 PM by Celsia Frostblossom »

Offline Shadoweagle

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #627 on: February 03, 2015, 10:41:42 PM »
With a shriek of surprise and pain, the Dracolisk found itself bombarded with hunks of stone and rubble, jarring its head to the ground with a solid pounding. Scraped and grazed, the draconian horror struggled to make sense of the situation, just as the metallic *tang* of metal striking rock sounded, not more than a few inches from her head.

Fury overwhelmed her senses. This interloper was going to try and slaughter HER!? Using her own figurines and environment against her?! INSOLENT!

With a flutter of her tattered wings and a flick of her neck, she burst through what remained of the  stone blockade, sending rubble flying, and finally saw her unwelcome guest for the first time. A beast of a man, with a fearsome weapon that whispered sweet bloodlust even in her mind. A snarl escaped from between the predator's acid-laden fangs and she rose swiftly onto her hind legs before bearing down directly on top of the human!

See rolls below.

Down she thrashed, deep rents slicing into the intruder's forearms as she gripped like a vice onto them. pushing heavily against his torso with one of her middle arms, she bore her entire draconian weight  onto his body, toppling him over onto the rocky floor.

A low hiss escaped her mouth as she leered closely over MysticMoon's face. droplets of sickly crimson blood and flecks of acid oozed onto the stone around his face; little trails of smoke arising as they corroded into the very stone. From this distance, MysticMoon could see that several of her teeth were chipped and cracked from the force of the avalanche he had caused.

The other thing MysticMoon could see was that her head was shaking faintly as though with barely restrained fury. Quite simply, she was pissed.


Initiative of 4 or lower required to attack first. 5 to attack simultaneously.
Initiative: (13:08:49) Minion: Shadoweagle rolls 1d10 and gets 3.
Attacking with 2x claws, and foregoing bite attack. Attempting to grapple/pin to the ground. If both claws hit (roll 10+) = pinned.
(13:14:24) Minion: Shadoweagle rolls 1d20 and gets 18.
(13:14:44) Minion: Shadoweagle rolls 1d20 and gets 15.
Foregoing bite attack.
(13:14:33) Minion: Shadoweagle rolls 1d6 and gets 5.
(13:14:55) Minion: Shadoweagle rolls 1d6 and gets 5.

10 damage total. Pinned to the ground.
If you want to attempt to break free, a 14+ is needed, Myst.
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Offline Murometz

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #628 on: February 03, 2015, 11:05:56 PM »
"A mystery my lady," A monk answered Celsia, truth be told, he had not taken his eyes off her peculiar beauty, in between spoonfuls of lentils. "The Grandmaster of Flowers adjourned into meditation, over a week ago. A week went by, this was not unusual, he would often seek solitude within the stone walls. But when a fellow Brother went to fetch him for certain ritual, his room was empty, with no signs of him."

Some of the other monks gave the speaker looks, but he seemed oblivious, basking in this woman's temporary attention. These men did not get out much.
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Offline Celsia Frostblossom

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #629 on: February 03, 2015, 11:53:17 PM »
"Mm. The timing?" This question, Celsia floats to the aliens among her companions, wondering if the vanished man and Goddess could be connected to their arrival in some fashion.

The stares of the monks were easy enough for her to ignore, while supping. Usually, she found, they were more pointed than this.

Offline Tusserk

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #630 on: February 04, 2015, 12:20:02 AM »
Sitting himself as close to the most senior looking monk, Tusserk started in on the meal.

“Spiderheart’s condition would not have seen him get to the monastery, he was poisoned in the upper arm and it had already spread to his shoulder by the time we regrouped. It had nearly reached his chest by the time we had reach the Alchemist.” Tusserk finished his lentil soup before continuing. “The time to travel here would have left him a statue in the swamp to be lost for ages.”

“The monks we came across, they had bruises but hardly enough marks to suggest a fight to the death. If I may ask, were they killed with the same technique that Spiderheart uses? The ability to strike from a distance and inflict pain or even death with a mere brush of a finger?” Tusserk watched the older monks as he asked his question. “Is it possible that their deaths are tied in with the disappearance of the Grand Master of Flowers? They have been dead for roughly three days and the Grand Master vanished sometime within the week.”
« Last Edit: February 04, 2015, 12:28:35 AM by Tusserk »

Offline MysticMoon

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #631 on: February 04, 2015, 10:44:23 AM »
Mystic laughed.

It wasn't a laugh that could be called humorous, or amused, or anything that would be mistaken as sane. Just like the time he'd been throat-punched by the trailer-park tweaker as a youth, he lost his composure in a fit of mad giggles.

"I am so @!#$ed. I get into this body, and it is so strong, and I started to think that no one would ever be able to push me around again. But... there's always someone stronger, isn't there? And now Spiderheart is well and truly dead, and, well, so am I, I guess.

"You'd think I'd be more afraid, you know? Like 'voiding my bowels' level of terror. But I'm not.

"If you could grant me one boon, you Beautiful &^%$@ of a Beastie, would you eviscerate my corpse well and good, and place it outside your lair as a warning to others? I don't want my fr... I don't want anyone thinking they could take such a creature as yourself. I was mad for even thinking it."
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The old man, grey-haired, braid hanging down.
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Offline Silveressa

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #632 on: February 04, 2015, 11:39:33 AM »
The following was written by Silveressa and Lady Wolf in  g docs then posted here after editing.

Silveressa relaxed in one of the upper balconies, running a brush through Lucky's recently washed fur and keeping a watchful eye on Wilem as he played with his wooden figures near by in the last rays of the setting sun. "Not the cheeriest of welcomes, but a sight better than the ones we've received so far in this land, even if they weren't overjoyed to see us they at least aren't eager to run us through with spears."

Her thoughts drifted to the brief pain she felt in her stomach, she'd only been pregnant a week or two at the most, their child wouldn't be much more than a near microscopic bundle of cells at this point, more likely it was indigestion, or the complaints of sore muscles from the hard traveling of late, still something to keep an eye on, she mentioned it to Lucky, as she held up a tuft of shedded fur for the breeze to carry off, his look of alarm making her pause in surprise.

"Thant could be a symptom of an ectopic pregnancy, where the egg winds up fertilized in a Fallopian tube or ovary, I saw a case come through the E.R once, without surgery it's generally fatal." He turned to regard her with his piercing blue eyes for a long moment, "If you have any bleeding, dizziness, pain in the neck or rectum, let me know and I can speak with Echo about possible treatments." He sighed and rested his head on his paws giving her a worried look.

"Relax lover, it was a very brief pain, likely indigestion from the mixture of swamp animals and plants we've been eating, or some intestinal parasite I picked up along the way, I'll speak with the monks tonight at supper about a vermifuge tea of wormwood Black Walnut, and Quassia Bark, they should have most of the ingredients necessary, and when we reach Blackton I'll seek out an elven midwife and see if I can get some kind of charm to wear that will ensure a complication free pregnancy." She reassured him, adding in a brief hug. "Come, the monks will have their evening meal prepared by now, I'd prefer we not miss it."
« Last Edit: February 05, 2015, 12:49:41 AM by Silveressa »
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Offline MysticMoon

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #633 on: February 04, 2015, 09:56:46 PM »
Christ, did it even have a clue what he was saying?

With a mighty shove, Mystic heaved the claws from him, rolled to the side, got up, and ran like hell.

MysticMoon rolls 1D20 = 17
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The old man, grey-haired, braid hanging down.
He is clothed in faded brown robes.
His craggy face is turned up, bathed in moonlight;
He looks for his goddess to smile upon him.

Offline Murometz

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #634 on: February 04, 2015, 10:04:08 PM »
"Now what?" the first growled

"Shut up, hear that?" the second replied

"What? Wait, now I do. The whole cave is shaking! Who do you think is winning?"

"I don't know, I am here with you. Now shut up, I'm thinking!"

"We should have followed the others. Our bounties are the elves."

"When this one went off on his own to slay a bloody dracolisk, I knew we should follow. Pick off the loser, make off with the loot."

"So what are we doing exactly?"

"Shut up and follow me. Let's take a peek. Ready your rope, I'll make us invisible. And do be quiet."

« Last Edit: February 04, 2015, 11:45:08 PM by Murometz »
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Offline Dracolisk

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #635 on: February 04, 2015, 11:27:03 PM »
The words Mysticmoon spoke appeared to be incomprehensible to the beast that leered over him - in fact, they appeared only to anger her further. With a snarl she snapped her jaws down, only to clack loudly in the air as the burly man prised himself free from her grasp and made a dash for the exit.

The primal terror flung around with a haste that belied her size and gave chase. It would be a simple thing to end this pest now; with a great inhalation, she opened her maw wide; a bubbling and gurgling sound echoed from her throat...

She suddenly snapped her mouth shut and slowed pursuit, instead raising her nostrils. The taste of something unwelcome was in the air. More of these gnats! Two... Three of the humankind and one smell which was altogether unfamiliar to her, all laying in wait in the direction they ran. A trap! Set up by this first human, no doubt!

She had been alive for many decades, and she had done so by utilising caution. Thus, she allowed Mysticmoon to gain some small distance and followed.
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Offline Silveressa

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #636 on: February 04, 2015, 11:29:16 PM »
The following was written by Siren & Silveressa in Google docs then posted here after editing.

A couple days earlier on the trail towards the Dracolisk lair...

Far out in front of the rest of the group, as they slogged through the muck and mire, ranged both Silveressa and Celsia, the latter paying special attention not to the scattered creatures that they shared the trek with, but rather, to the land and water itself. By some instinct alone, Celsia marked those spots where the mire was great enough to sink in, tapping the soil of safety with briefly lasting marks of frost - enough to keep the others from foundering, difficult to trace for long.  She was silent as she moved, her eyes fixed forwards, that cold expression upon her face.

“You seem less than thrilled to have all of us along for company if you’ll pardon the observation.” She gestured back towards the direction the rest of the group was in, keeping an eye out for possible game and other living dangers.

Stooping for a moment to draw a line of caution before a channel, Celsia’s cold eyes turned towards the Elven ranger. “I have seen how you repay those who offered you aid.”

“And missed seeing how we risked our lives to save Wilem from a troll, without asking for any compensation, nor expecting any, a man asked for our aid and we gave it without reservation, his death was the fault of his horse and a outcropping of stone.” She closed her eyes at the unpleasant memory.

“We could have left his son to fend for himself in the wilds, or offloaded him upon the first person we met that was willing to take him, but instead we care for him as if he was our own rather than trust his well being to chance, so do not think us heartless because we see things differently,”

“Heartless - no. Ignorant, and unwilling to look, yes.” Celsia pursed her lips together for a moment, her own eyes far away. If there was any who knew… Well. “You take him as your own, yet you bring him into the heart of the danger. You lash out, and you do not understand at what you lash at.”

She nodded, “I do not bring him by choice I assure you, but leaving him in the care of someone I trust has yet to be a possibility, as for the danger we are all about to lash out at, I do have my reservations, however finding a way to speak them in a manner that others will listen to is taking some time to work out.”

“If you mean the beast, that is not what I mean. Your burned friend - I did not see all of it, but he was infested with what seemed to be a slime. Without that fire, he had about ten minutes of life remaining.”

“The setting of him on fire may have been necessary, but it is generally customary to apologize when doing something so rash, and what others would see as hostile, offering to abort ones child is, where I come from, perhaps one of the gravest insults you can deliver to someone, depending on their beliefs anyway, so you might say she made a poor impression on us.”

“You are not from here - and that is why I call you ignorant. I do not know what your world is like, but look at where you are. At what you are going. You will bear that child for more than a year, elf. If it lives to be born. If you live for it to be born. This is why she offered. Consider that it was made in compassion, for you, and for any children you might be able to bear in the future, not in anger.” For a moment, she stopped walking and marking the path, considering something. Her icy eyes melted for a moment, almost in sympathy. Children were something that she would never bear, for more reason than one. Her eyes darted about, before she reached to the ties of her armor, lifting the front away, hiking up the padding beneath, showing three round scars in a perfect line across her chest, just beneath the ribs. “Protect yourself well, elf.”

Silveressa’s eyes widened at the unexpected display of old injuries and she nodded solemnly. “Had she not referred to my baby as crotch fruit,” her voice held the unmistakable derision for the term, “Then perhaps I would have been more receptive to her message, it is generally in poor taste to referring to someone’s offspring in such a manner, more so if they bear the news the woman cannot bring it to term.”

She sighed and shook her head, “I am willing to risk my life for the child, back where I come from childbirth is not possible for me either, so it is not something I would let go of lightly, not before getting a second opinion from another healer at the very least, perhaps an elven one that better understands our bodies.”

Resealing her protection, Celsia shook her head, slowly. “It is your profession that made her offer, elf.” Turning back to the swamps, she began to ford her way forwards once more. “You will be cut, shot, burned. You will force march, and you will starve from time to time. It is what happens to us when we sell our swords, for money or for faith.”

She nodded, “That is true for the moment, however we do have other goals, perhaps the claiming of a keep and settling down for a time, though we may have inherited the bodies of adventurers, few of us  from our world were the adventuring sorts, we were what you would call laborers, townsfolk, wizards after a fashion for some of us, what our world called scientists.”

Stopping once more to mark a treacherous channel, Celsia frowned, dipping one hand deep into the water, drawing out a shard of worn stone, its furrowed surface deeply scored. Petrified flesh. The beast’s range was significant, it seemed. “You were who you were. Here, it only matters that you can learn to survive. And quickly.”

She nodded, gesturing to Lucky who trailed behind them, sniffing at the ground, “Some of us have the benefit of animal instinct to guide us, others of us have our own experience in survival from our world to fall back on, we have been managing well enough so far.” She paused and smiled briefly, “In my world they had a saying, that nature was a hash teacher, she often gave the test first, and the lesson after, I expect the same hold true to for this land.”

“She does. At least one of you has already failed it. Learn faster.” Celsia fell silent then, looking upwards, to watch what scraps of sunlight there were, and the motion of the clouds. The prevailing winds generally came from the west. Generally. But there were always variations. Better to trust the thin currents of the swamp.

“That’s why we are all glad to have you and Gyma travelling with us, we know painfully well we are outsiders here, and are somewhat struggling to find our way, we even seem to have inherited some odd cult as our enemies as well, they are the ones that poisoned Spider and Mystic with the stone ichor.“

She paused to raise her bow and quickly loose an arrow, impaling a brightly colored bird where it pecked at bugs beneath a near by bush, nodding to herself in satisfaction. “Not knowing who is friend and who is foe makes our travels all the harder, and perhaps why we reacted so poorly to the alchemist, she did not exactly shower us with a warm welcome and give us cause to see her  as a trustworthy person with her choice of words and mannerisms..”

“The Badger of the swamp lives where she does to evade those who would make demands of her. But her heart is not without kindness.” A small shrug, and Celsia continues, “She has given to me a measure of safety for Wilem. And my sword will escort you for so long as my Mistress desires. There are, of course, other tasks she has sent me to accomplish. I will complete them, one way or another.” There is a firm conviction beneath her voice, as inexorable as the glaciers.

“What other tasks if I may ask? Depending on our travels our goals may overlap more than is first apparent.” She bent to retrieve the bird and her arrow, tying it by the neck to her belt after pulling a leather pouch around the animal to keep its blood from leaving a trail.

“The Lady and her siblings are the balance of the world. I am her one of her servants in maintaining that balance. Here, that balance is tipped by a creature of stone squatting in a spring wherein her power seeps out into the waters of the world. I am to drive it off, and purify the source.” A small frown on her face, and she shakes her head. “It will take more than I can bring to bear now, I fear. But in time, it will be provided.”

She nodded in agreement, “The wyrm is beyond our skill to defeat currently, but with better equipment and a less eager approach we can use tactics and our intellect to our advantage to defeat the otherwise impossible foe, similar to how we slew the troll, not by force of steel and strength of arm, but by cunning and an unexpected strategy.”

“It will be provided.” The faith was there, clear and deep. “Perhaps your sages will find what they can use here, from what they knew there. Perhaps we will find those with more strength than us to assist. It is hard to say. I will keep my eyes open. I suggest you do as well.”

She nodded in agreement, “If you know of a skilled midwife, or Elven healer with knowledge of inter-species pregnancy, I would appreciate being pointed in the right direction, but until such time I plan to keep my eyes and ears open for any who may be able to aid us in our travels.”

“Those I know… are far away.” Over the seas, in fact, thought the frozen knight. “First, this journey.”
« Last Edit: February 05, 2015, 12:52:12 AM by Silveressa »
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Offline MysticMoon

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #637 on: February 09, 2015, 03:23:43 PM »
At first, Mystic ran straight back toward the camp he'd left, looking over his shoulder a few times as he did so. Reconsidering, and wishing to avoid the certain ire of his companions, he veered off toward whatever offered the best cover he could find.

He was tired, sore, injured, and seriously examining some key life choices.

They'll never let me keep this now, I can't trust them not to take it from me, and I refuse to use it on them, he thought, digging a long trench and burying Headtaker within it. I'll come back for you when we return for that 'lisk. For a moment, he could not make himself let go of the thing to place it within. He had no real options, though, other than abandoning the others and sriking out on his own, which he was certainly not prepared for.

At least I have this, he thought, feeling the heft of the artistic mace in his hand.

With that done, he returned to the old campsite, to find it abandoned. For a moment, self-pity overwhelmed him and tears stained his cheeks. They'd left him behind.

Fool, they knew your chances all along. They've probably decided I've done the same as Scras and Dozus and permamently wandered off or gotten killed.

Where to now? The Alchemist. He shivered in remembrance of the flames. No, definitely the monastery.

He was tired, and he desperately wished for sleep, but he could not risk being caught by the dracolisk alone. He set out, placing his trust in the great constitution of this new body.
Chosen of Aktagarti – Divine Synod Guild – Level 1
Might: 2 | Agility: 3 | Wits: 4 | Charm: 3 | Spirit: 4 | Power: 2

The old man, grey-haired, braid hanging down.
He is clothed in faded brown robes.
His craggy face is turned up, bathed in moonlight;
He looks for his goddess to smile upon him.

Offline Murometz

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Re: Guardians of the Citadel
« Reply #638 on: February 19, 2015, 03:35:47 PM »
Stumbling and splashing, he ran out of the fetid cave. He could hear the beast behind him. Why wasn't it attacking? Then he heard something else, but couldn't identify the sound.

Making his way along the edges of the foul dark-green pool, figuring out his next move, trying to ignore the fact that the dracolisk  could spray his backside with acid at any moment now, the giant warrior finally reached the abandoned camp. He slowed to think, and felt himself falling...asleep?

"What the--??!" Was his last thought before drifting off. He plopped down into the muck and into dreamland. (Roll involved)

"Now the powder! Then your rope! Hurry up before the swamp-dragon takes an interest in us. Move, move, move!" Mystic dreamed someone saying, then all went black as something large, furry and ugly began to man-handle his prone body.

Somewhere nearby, the dracolisk floated silently beneath the muck, only its nostrils and eyes above the water. Like a crocodile spying on a few stupid wildebeests.
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PoisonAlchemist: Man Muro, you boost my confidence and then you just go crush it with a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.
Pariah: Don't tell him things like that, if his head gets any bigger he'll float off like a weather ballon :p