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71
Freeform Roleplaying / Re: The Last Wizards
« Last post by Aramax on March 30, 2017, 04:31:45 AM »
The Major Domo always reads his masters mail, it is a good way to avoid broken bonws. His master makes much pretense of the monks all being eaqual with him, but that is far from the truth. Ikela soundlessly reads the note and becomes filled with one of his notorious rages. "Griffon" is the single word he croaks out from his grim lips.

Mounting the griffon he soon comes upon that which he was seeking, one of the many barbarian tribes of the World Teats. He brings the griffon down harshly as a shout arises from the mighty hewed barbarians. Casting " Stone Fist" from his precious Ioun stones Ikela moves amung the barbarians like a storm, beating the entire "lawless bunch" to piles of broken bones and wailing children. The mighty rage subsides as he bashes the ribs of the last barbarian female.The mighty wizard muses on the note a last time.

"A New Spell?" "Hruph" My own laboratories yield nothing on my several lines of research. "How could that feeble poser come up with a new spell?"' And offer it like we were beggars at his court! Ikela mounted the unnamed gryphon and sought the solace of pummeling more barbarians.......

After a restful day, Ikela returns to the abbey at dusk, Where he squares off against 3 monks with his magic off. The monks take full advantage of the situation to give Ikela a fine beating, after which, I kela spreads all the damage over all the monks and retires for the night just before sunset, with a thin smile on his face.
72
Freeform Roleplaying / Re: Tlot-Tuk, the Land of Liars
« Last post by Murometz on March 29, 2017, 10:18:05 PM »
The maps rock! The names suck.
73
Freeform Roleplaying / Re: The Last Wizards
« Last post by Murometz on March 29, 2017, 10:08:59 PM »
Of the Malfeasant Three, The Lawful Ikela, was the first to hear of the event. After all, it was easier to get a message delivered to an accessible monastery, rather than a dragon-flame-spewing fortress, or a subterranean lair so deep, as to be unvisitable altogether.

Kasak, Ikela's major domo, silently strode toward his master, and wordlessly handed him the gilded scroll.

It read;

"Greetings Most Puissant Purveyor of Law and Order, the Griffin-Lord of the Bulbous Teats! Hoping your monotonous monks are as docile as ever! The Vainglorious Vulvaturo, Master of the Excellent Prismatic Spray and Many Other Such Fine Spells would be overfilled with joy and puerile pride if you deign join him and his many fantastic friends, including five fabulous fellows of our own Tourmaline Brotherhood, for a celebratory fete of no small attention. Needless to say, I have uncovered a new spell, and shall share it with my own beloved brethren should they attend. The event will be held, and you will appreciate this, on the Day of Locusts, when the "Lawgiver" streaks his way across the night skies, glowing purple."

It went on (and on) but its point was long made. In a fortnight, the mighty Ikela (or Icky, depending on which monk you'd ask), was being invited to the grand birthday party of a fellow mage, with a dangling carrot besides. A new spell promised. And those were so rare these days!
74
Freeform Roleplaying / Re: The Last Wizards
« Last post by valadaar on March 29, 2017, 08:20:20 PM »
Thalonin stepped away from his crystal, muttering and rolling his eyes.  “Exchange spells he says. Bah. I’ll exchange spells with him, and he wouldn’t like it one bit. Icky indeed.” He drew a large, bizarrely colored beetle from one of his many pockets, really too large have come from that pocket.  “No, he wouldn’t, would he Gerich?” he said while stroking its carapace. 

Deeper down into his dwelling, he opened and entered a massive door, heavily protected by all manner of warding spells, including those that would convert intruders into wiggling piles of worms.

Here, dozens of rooms were gnawed into the bones of the earth. He entered one and a  low moan from the rooms lone occupant greeted him. If it were stronger it might have sounded defiant.

“Have you seen the error of your ways yet, Murnal? Have you figured out how to unbreak what you have broken?  No? Then abide while you ponder this.”
Thalonin strode away from the wretch, manacled, bound, and tied to a strange machine that seemed to pulse weakly.

To the next chamber he barely stuck his head in.
“Quadoth! Yes, you.  Do you have the answer? Need I bring back your little friends to spur your memory? No. Then get to it. You don’t have forever. None of of us do!”

Thalonin walked further on.  This room had a stall with several Oasts.  He made no attempt to converse with them, only noting that sufficient feed was available to them.  They too were attached to strange machines.

He completed his rounds, satisfied that all was in order. None of his ‘friends’ were on death’s door, nor seemed to be struggling effectively.  He was being merciful. He could have simply slain them, for they did transgress across that line, but no, now they would get to see the end of the world. Even if it was from deep inside the earth.  And, because they would, so would he.

At this point, he made his way back up to his library.  This room too was protected by a heavily ensorcelled door - and a second one beyond besides.  The walls, floor and ceiling were also protected from spells and scrying, with layers of metals, stones and runed surfaces to block teleportation, planar incursions and even simple mining.  For the library was his treasure.

“Kethathez! The Book of Ogrum’s Grace if you will!’  he ordered as he found his overstuffed chair near the illusionary fireplace. Not even a spark was allowed in here, so Thalonin made due with the illusionary heat the illusionary fire provided.  A moment later, and a huge, black, spider-thing presented Thalonin with the grimoire.

"Thank you, Kethathez. Share? Indeed....”
75
Freeform Roleplaying / Re: Tlot-Tuk, the Land of Liars
« Last post by axlerowes on March 29, 2017, 07:49:19 PM »



In Lie-liu-Seav everything travels southeast and everything ends downstream.  “To be born and live your whole life is Lie-liu-Seav is to always be bleeding,” said my grandmother. I understand her now. The Mian river drowned her husband, and each year another of her kids took a raft or skiff downstream to Reijear or even the capital Miangnuag.  The rams who did stay in Lie-liu-Seav sent all they had down the Mian.  For every hundred trees they fell ninety-nine went down the river.  For every pound of salt you brought home to pack away pork of fish for the summer, you had to send two pounds down the river.  Only the salmon ever came back to us on the river, and grandmother said there was fewer of them each year. Everything we had went southeast and downstream.

I was still beardless, hornless and ewe thin when something finally came out of the West.  It was a tinker. Her skin was leathery, pockmarked and so warty that she looked to be made of dirt.  Her eyes were close together and her pupils were small and circular, not the wide vertical bars like the pupils of my people.  She had no fangs or tusks protruding from her mouth. She was the first human I’d ever seen.  I’d learn shortly,  that even though she had no horn curling about her read,  she was a he. 

The human man, named KeMoo, was a tinker from Ruakgair. He smiled and came over to the bank of the river where I sat with an empty net.

“Well met young kid,” he said in our words. I was young then and did not yet know how many tounges are in Klok-Kaer. Thus, I didn't think it strange that human could speak our words.

“Morning,” I said without looking up from my nets. I was too far from a child to be scared but too far from grown to act anyway but stupid and proud.

“Fishing are ya? Looks like you haven’t caught much.” He pushed off his heavy backpack and looked half the size for it.

“Still early,” I said.

“Have you ever cast net from the long pier at Giotvanuag? The pier runs kind of north so that when currents Vanuag and Swee Rivers flow north into the ocean they combine just a stone's throw from the end of the pier. That is good fishing.”

“River don’t flow north,” I said

“Aye the great Mian and Gau river basins do not, but in Raukvua all the rivers flow north,” said the human man as he turned around on his knees to untie his pack. “Why in the center of the village of Giotluekiok there is a bridge, runs east to west more abouts.” The man took a large tome bound in brown leather out of his pack. “Aye, the bridge of Giotleukiok, the river Luekiok runs right under the bridge before it flows out to sea, good fishing there too.”

“These places, Raukvua, Giotluekiok, Giotvanuag, I’ve never heard of them. Are they in Kaerngueguik?”

“Nay lad, not all, I am speaking about the great Kingdom of Raukvua.  What you need boy is an atlas it just so happens that I have one here,” he tapped on the book with his fingers. “It is a book of maps, made by the Brothers of Truth in the monastery at Kiokrei.” 

“Is that downstream?” I asked

“Nay lad,” he cracked the book open to a page full of squiggly lines and letters. “You see this line here,” he said holding his brown dirty finger just above the page. That is the Mian river and if you follow it to this dot right here, that is Lie-liu-Seav.”

“That is here?” I asked gesturing at the page with my thumb and forefinger held as if I was going to pluck my town from the book.


“Aye lad it is, and the palace at Miangnuag with your horned king they are downstream, but the rest of the world, well lad, it is North. To get to the pier at Giotvanuag or the blue sand beaches of Suir-liu-Joi, where the people have horns and tusks like here, you will need many maps. This book has many maps.  I could let you keep it, say if you could find me a pound of salt.”

“Where would you take the salt,” I hissed thinking that this was just another person heading downstream.

He paused and seemed to be puzzled by the questions. I pushed again. “Where?”

“I will go back to Kiokrei I suppose,” sighed the old human.

“Then I will get your salt,”

And I did, and the human gave me the book of maps.  Maps, which I studied by lantern light, moonlight and bits of dying daylight until I was a ram myself, and ready to give the world my labor.  But when it was time for me to leave Lie-liu-Seav, I didn’t head downstream. I took my book of maps and we flowed north.   
76
Freeform Roleplaying / Re: The Last Wizards
« Last post by Murometz on March 29, 2017, 06:17:24 PM »
The World's Teats Mountains are so old a range, that they have devolved from epic, jagged peaks to rounded, smooth, high hills, resembling their appellation more and more over the millennia. The Teats rise above (barely) the western end of a dark forbidding forest of twisted pines.

Atop one such teat, perches an unadorned monastery, the demesne of one, Ikela the Lawful, an archmage as insufferable as some of his more "chaotic" cohorts of the infamous Tourmaline Brotherhood.

Griffons circle above the monastery like crows, and if one were to sit astride one of these hybrid beasts in mid-air, one could spy to the south, the fetid, brown river called the Skaum, snaking its way out of the darkness of the unnamed forest, and proceeding south to a vast, featureless flatland, littered with bleached bone shards.

An eerily quiet place are these empty fields, only wind and the crunching of bone underfoot breaks the silence.

A few leagues further south and one comes face to face with a truly disturbing sight, the Dragons Graveyard. Gigantic rib cages of unknown beasts form archways dozens of feet overhead, turning from a field to a forest of bone.

Within this place where behemoths and leviathans came to die all those years ago, stands the grand guignol fortress of one Thangirion Zombiel. The melancholy Necrope, whom the lastlanders consider a god, the Great Belphegor. 'Ware the impaled, undead dragon which guards his demesne.

If one avoids this grotesque place (as one certainly should) and continues south two dozen leagues, the traveler will reach the fetid Throbbing Bogs and its many nightmares, but first they will come across oldest inhabitable city there ever was or will be...Old Place.

And deep beneath the crumbling stones, deeper still than the city's ancient sewers and catacombs, one will find the dismal abode of one, Thalonin the Pestilential, with his bubbling vats, and steam-pumping machines, and magickal prisons filled with his many miserable imprisoned victims.

And so you see, our three wizard lairs lie not all too far from each other, despite the foreboding terrain which separates them.

Now we will take a closer look (from a safe distance) and peek at their vile, day-to-day doings...
77
Freeform Roleplaying / The Last Wizards
« Last post by Murometz on March 29, 2017, 06:15:50 PM »
The Last Wizards

"What great minds lie in the dust! What gorgeous souls have vanished into the buried ages; what marvellous creatures are lost past the remotest memory … Nevermore will there be the like; now in the last fleeting moments, humanity festers rich as rotten fruit. Rather than master and overpower our world, our highest aim is to cheat it through sorcery."

Earth . . . A dim place, ancient beyond knowledge . . . Ages of rain and wind have beaten and rounded the granite, and the sun is red and feeble . . . A million cities of lifted towers, have fallen to dust. In place of the old peoples a few thousand strange souls live. There is evil on Earth . . . Earth is dying . . .

...Only these wretched vile sorcerers remain.



In betwixt the twisted towers and myriad spires of Great Moltholom there stands one particularly obnoxious structure of note. The bulbous dome that shines a thousand colors, the headquarters of the Tourmaline Brotherhood, a society of wizards, created with only two purposes in mind. The first being for the mutual study and trade of the "Hundred Known Spells" and the trafficking and trading of old folios, mysterious artifacts, and summoned beings. The second being a peace pact, a means of keeping these same odious guild wizards from stealing each other's magicks, or worse, tearing each other to shreds. The Tourmaline Laws are taken quite seriously by all members, for if a wizard is found to have broken the pact in some way, the other wizards of the Tourmaline Brotherhood will immediately combine forces and enact contingency magicks to destroy the guilty party.

None of this prevents said wizards from tirelessly searching for loop holes in the Tourmaline Laws however, to take advantage of their fellows.

And so it goes.

Let us look in upon three such sorcerers. They could not be any different from one another, yet their fates shall soon entwine...
78
Freeform Roleplaying / Re: The Last Tomorrow, or, Tales of Great Moltholom
« Last post by Aramax on March 29, 2017, 04:06:08 PM »
overvue
Ok there are approx 100 known spells

The Notches
they are technicly divided into 36 mental notches in your head a major spell is more or less 6 slots but some are up to 18,

Proposal
I say we all have 70% of the spells leaving 3 that only each of us know,

free casting
we can also have a spontaniously casting class if you want one you you can cast 7 spells you know 25 with out a spellbook, You can prepare from outside that 25 ahead of time
Hit points we each have 4000
Deodands/griffons do 1000 and have same

SPELLBOOK
Firebaii(minor) 2000 damage easily countered from over familierity of the spell
Disintigrate 3000/ always does 1500 despite any defences
Time Stop Major (7 pits)2 didpell magics will blast it
Time siezure Minor (3)pits triggered by others Time stop, one spell can be cast
Dispel Magic (minor),exactly can be used on overwatch as counter spell
Pestulance of Spider (minor) 3 pits army of 10,000 1 hd spiders has 3000 hp
Raise major dead army (major 6 pits) army of 500 3 hd skeletons,zombies and mummys  3000 HP
Contingancy (5 pits major) instantly cast on other prepared spell in responce to an attack
79
Freeform Roleplaying / Re: The Last Tomorrow, or, Tales of Great Moltholom
« Last post by Aramax on March 29, 2017, 03:35:23 PM »
Ikela the Lawful (Icky the Awful to his enemies and monks in a bad mood, he hates this nickname)

(simple brown robes, arms folded across chest w/ scrolls in both hands, Bald, no eyebrows, white puples , black outside of eyes)

being Lawful Good(evil)I do not summon sanduskins and the like

St 18 Int 22 ws 13 dx 17 con 18 charisma 17

Spells memorized

Time Stop(10 rounds, NOTE although this is a very powerful spell, it is very common to major mages amd they often have defences against this)

Counter spell (lesser)

Dispel Magic (lesser)

Disintegrate

Mazarian's over All excellence(Incredible over all buff to physical abilities, another common spell)

Fireball minor

Time skip(cast two spells in one round) minor

Immunity

Scrolls in hand

(These scrolls are very hard to make and as such, I am loathe to use them unless I have avery good reason, spells are too powerful to be memorized)

Left Volcano

right Earthquake

Minor magic items

ring of feather fall

whistle of gryphon summoning

60 Ioun stones (recall one spell cast,detection of Time stop, able to cast minor spell "Stone Fist" x 5 (18 00 strength two handed +3 sword equivalant) Analyze magic x4, cast "armor spell" ,Plate x3)

Traquil Mansion is simple abbey (main guardians are 6 fearsome Gargoyles, immune to less than +2 weapons, claws shred magical defenses)

Abby is filled with 20 monk/mage/ martial artists, they take on my "sin" and damage when I do black magic or get hurt,The monks are lead by Kasak, my major domo who is frequently absent in search of new monk recruits as my "sins' kill them, they are attracted to a scholarly monastic order dedicated to supporting my LG will.

abbey is located high on "World Teat " mountain range in griffon country, Ikela has many trained griffons he uses as transportation as do the monks

World Teat's oldest mountain range, by far not the tallest filled with angry rams, yeti and white dragons, not to mention the gryffons, home to a fierce barbarian tribe made up of small family units scattered across range

Spell library and Research

I have never looked into transportation spells so no teleport , fly etc, I have the 3rd best library, number one on Religion as I am reasurching crossing the clerical and arcane streams,especially healing. I pine for a lost love,Lala , a female paladin who never returned my affection, now lost to time, her memory makes him bitter.

Spellbook

Minor

Fireball

major invisability

Mirror images

Super duper Stone fist

6 fould bounty of fire

6 fold bounty of healing

6 fold bounty of gold

counter spell

dispell magic

Major

earthquke

volcano

tidal wave

Winter storm

Rain storm

Greater Counter spell

Time Stop

Destroy Magic Items

Tranquil Abbey Locations(NOTE TO OTHER PLAYERS: Those of you not familiar w/ Vance/ Mage dwellings are normally sumptuous Mansions)

(The abbey is spartan in the extreme, no tapistries on walls or rugs)

Spell Library

Casting/experimental chamber

Tropical Garden complete w/ twik men and faeries, fresh fruit and herbs is harvested

Training grounds, monks stand here and soak sin and damage always 3 on duty(this is main front entrance)

Abbey santuary, this is converted into kitchen/ bedroom for all inhabitants and guests 50 beds and tables for same

secondary Library, monk library

secondary training grounds, martial arts training(mainly damage soaking is taught)

Hospital, where damaged monks go to heal, Rodrick the Red 5th L cleric on duty, also aids Me in my spell research.

Study small room with fresco's of Lost paladin and fladulation whip, no one except for me may enter

Outside abbey

small barbarian family tends the abbey's sheep

Tranquil Garden

hedge maze for mediation, rose bushes for walls

Character notes

severe LG to the point of spilling over into evil methods (Think Inquisition)

Realizes Monks are hard to replace so uses them carefully but if pressed will use them up compleatly, gryffons are disposable. Period.

Do not underestimate his pining for his lost paladin love, it is a constant reminder of mine
80
Freeform Roleplaying / Re: The Last Tomorrow, or, Tales of Great Moltholom
« Last post by valadaar on March 29, 2017, 01:13:40 PM »
Thalonin stepped away from his crystal, muttering and rolling his eyes.  “Exchange spells he says. Bah. I’ll exchange spells with him, and he wouldn’t like it one bit. Icky indeed.” He drew a large, bizarrely colored beetle from one of his many pockets, really too large have come from that pocket.  “No, he wouldn’t, would he Gerich?” he said while stroking its carapace. 

Deeper down into his dwelling, he opened and entered a massive door, heavily protected by all manner of warding spells, including those that would convert intruders into wiggling piles of worms.

Here, dozens of rooms were gnawed into the bones of the earth. He entered one and a  low moan from the rooms lone occupant greeted him. If it were stronger it might have sounded defiant.

“Have you seen the error of your ways yet, Murnal? Have you figured out how to unbreak what you have broken?  No? Then abide while you ponder this.”
Thalonin strode away from the wretch, manacled, bound, and tied to a strange machine that seemed to pulse weakly.

To the next chamber he barely stuck his head in.
“Quadoth! Yes, you.  Do you have the answer? Need I bring back your little friends to spur your memory? No. Then get to it. You don’t have forever. None of of us do!”

Thalonin walked further on.  This room had a stall with several Oasts.  He made no attempt to converse with them, only noting that sufficient feed was available to them.  They too were attached to strange machines.

He completed his rounds, satisfied that all was in order. None of his ‘friends’ were on death’s door, nor seemed to be struggling effectively.  He was being merciful. He could have simply slain them, for they did transgress across that line, but no, now they would get to see the end of the world. Even if it was from deep inside the earth.  And, because they would, so would he.

At this point, he made his way back up to his library.  This room too was protected by a heavily ensorcelled door - and a second one beyond besides.  The walls, floor and ceiling were also protected from spells and scrying, with layers of metals, stones and runed surfaces to block teleportation, planar incursions and even simple mining.  For the library was his treasure.

“Kethathez! The Book of Ogrum’s Grace if you will!’  he ordered as he found his overstuffed chair near the illusionary fireplace. Not even a spark was allowed in here, so Thalonin made due with the illusionary heat the illusionary fire provided.  A moment later, and a huge, black, spider-thing presented Thalonin with the grimoire.

"Thank you, Kethathez. Share? Indeed....”
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