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https://vimeo.com/859999389 Welcome to USKARA, a world of BAROQUE FANTASY. It is a world very much unlike our own, with its FIRMAMENT built on crystal spheres nested within each other, surrounding a central SOLAR DISK. Its history is of cycles of Apocalypse and Resurrection, of one World ending and another World being born. Our story is of the SEVENTH WORLD, a Time of Faith, where the Gods have conquered the Heavens and impose their will through their churches.  We begin our story on the continent of SULGARD, dominated by the HOLY LAWFUL EMPIRE. Once divided into Six Realms, it was unified over the course of two dynasties and a bloody civil war into one unified polity, under the light of MITRA, PANTOKRATOR and God of the Sun. The Empire was built from the ashes of the diabolical GRAND OLD DOMINION, first formed when the Dukes of RUSANTE claimed the High Kingdom of SARUM, crowned by the clergy of the Holy Cities of THE NINEVAR and united in marriage to BRECHELIANT. Later, the free cities of AGURAIN and the nomadic bands of LAITHLIND would swear fealty to the Emperor. The land is named for the TURULSUL, the World Tree that sprouts from its sacred earth upon the carcass of the Corpse-God NOGAD. Thus, it is still a wild land in many parts, full of monsters, yet the unification of the Civilized Realms has formed a bulwark that has given peace and prosperity for over a hundred years. It is time for that peace to end. Sometimes too much Good is a bad thing. With over a century of virtually no conflict, SULGARD stagnates. While the peasantry and stupid and content, many grow restless and bored. The rest of USKARA leaves this backwater behind in their dust, with the hegemonic Commonwealth securing an undisputed global sphere of influence. Armies have been disbanded. Swords have been made into plowshares, and knights are known more for jousts than war. The splendid isolation of this supposed golden age, the so-called LANDFRIED, keeps innovation and competition stagnant. Even poetry and song are dominated by praise of MITRA, and little else. What is Good without Evil? What is the Light without its Shadow? Heroism demands villainy. An Army of Darkness assembles in the Shade-lands under the direction of an unknown master. Agents are dispatched across the continent, indeed, the world to prepare the way for the coming of a new Dark One. During the Fifth World, it was IALDABAOTH, the Demiurge, the Prince of Evil, Lord Satan and the Great Adversary, who was held highest by the GRAND OLD DOMINION. His design sought to scale to the crystal Heavens and depose the false Pretenders once and for all, and through this great rebellion end the cycle forever, making reality a Tyranny of Will Alone. His cults have long kept the Dark Faith alive through his Book of Sins. One of its many successors have begun to unfold a sinister symphony, the results of which will grip all of Turulsul into total, destructive war. This is your war. Down with the Pretender Sun! Hail Satan!  The Manual posted:
welfarestateofmind fucked around with this message at 17:43 on Sep 1, 2023 |
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Sep 1, 2023 02:29
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||== CHARACTER SHEET ==||
SARAH MAELRUADHA  code:
 ||== SAVED GAMES ==||
welfarestateofmind fucked around with this message at 02:48 on Sep 5, 2023 |
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Sep 1, 2023 02:29
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Hespera Priscas, Hag Godmother
Gerthrude, Kindly Grandmother
The Three Dogsbodies
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||== PROLOGUE: WAY OF THE WICKED ==|| > play echoes.wav You awake to your full splendor, Dark One. It is the eve of your final victory, as you prepare to surmount all those who came before you. From your black tower you survey an army that meets the horizon, a New Dominion well within your grasp. Revel in this moment, for it may be fleeting. One of your wretched SERVITORS capers before your feet, an impish frame that clatters with ill-fitting mail. Drooping its long snouted face under its leather skullcap, it addresses you as…
> “MISTRESS!” > Something ELSE...
> Your SCEPTER. > Your ORB.
> For POWER, of course. What else? > I want the whole world to know my NAME. > I NEVER asked for this.
> I steal the hours and years away from my playthings, presenting as a terrible FEY, bound by my Lies as much as my truth. > I feed upon the life of lesser beings as a seductive LAMIA, their blood and breath sating my Abandon. > I relinquished material things and ascended as an ethereal WRAITH, my mind mastering what I truly Fear. > I glutted myself on treasure and transformed into a magnificent DRAGON, servant to mine and others' Greed. > I sequestered my soul into a vessel and mastered undeath as a LICH, committing the ultimate Betrayal of the natural order. > I signed the ultimate contract and drank of the stygian waters of the Pit to rise a DEVIL, the embodiment of Tyranny. welfarestateofmind fucked around with this message at 18:33 on Sep 1, 2023 |
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Sep 1, 2023 02:30
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> “MISTRESS!” > Your ORB. > To make them all PAY. > I steal the hours and years away from my playthings, presenting as a terrible FEY, bound by my Lies as much as my truth.
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Sep 1, 2023 02:51
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> “MISTRESS!”, of course > Your ORB. for pondering purposes when we get bored > To make them all PAY. who doesn't love a good bit of revenge? > I steal the hours and years away from my playthings, presenting as a terrible FEY, bound by my Lies as much as my truth. this is an accurate description of my playstyle in mafia, actually
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Sep 1, 2023 02:56
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 >MISTRESS >ponder ORB >make them PAY (“them” referring to the gods we’re attacking and dethroning to finish what Ialdabaoth started) >FEY
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Sep 1, 2023 16:02
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> “MISTRESS!” > Your ORB. > To make them all PAY. > I signed the ultimate contract and drank of the stygian waters of the Pit to rise a DEVIL, the embodiment of Tyranny.
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Sep 1, 2023 16:09
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>"OVERLORD!" >Your SCEPTER. >For POWER, of course. What else? >I signed the ultimate contract and drank of the stygian waters of the Pit to rise a DEVIL, the embodiment of Tyranny.  
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Sep 1, 2023 16:36
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||== PROLOGUE: WAY OF THE WICKED ==|| “Yes, MISTRESS, you are glorious!” The voice almost whines with a sibilant hiss, the creature prostrate before you as you hold aloft the ORB. It is made of a glassy material that appears opaque but reflective, the patterns within shifting with metallic ripples. You can feel it hum with arcane power, and through it you can extend your sight, mind, and voice throughout the entirety of your forces and army, projecting into their thoughts and perceptions. You are at once here and everywhere else, omniscient and thus omnipotent.
> ORB: +10 Sorcery. ”The Manual” posted:
But of course, there is a REASON for all this. You have borne all these slings and arrows for so long, that it is difficult to remember exactly where it all began. In fact, those first wrongs have long since been forgotten, so petty and distant now that you stand here astride the Seventh World itself. Instead, you are filled with a well of hatred as you stare at the winking solar disk in the sky, half-eclipsed by the black moon Umbra. You will take back all that has been denied you by this Pretender, the Demon Sun.
”The Manual” posted:
In the waning light of the day, you admire your new form in the mirrored surface of your orb. You hae bound the souls and lives of so many through words and wit, granting you eternal life so long as you can steal the hours away from the unwitting, making you one of the deceptive FEY, those who bind in story and song the unwary and unworthy. You are the witch in the hut, the noble with the thistle-down hair, the antlered hunter.
> New Tags: [CALLING: FEY] ”The Manual” posted:
Yet the more you try to grasp the silhouette, the more hazy it becomes. You know that you are beautiful, yes, and terrible at the same time, but you cannot grasp your true form, and you begin to find lucidity eating away at the fraying edges of your dream. The surface of the orb ripple and then distorts, and like a delayed thunderclap you hear a sound that tears through the fabric of your dying dream, a violence that shatters your dearest, darkest hopes. THWOOM. It is the sound of cannon. You awake in the belly of a ship, and the sound of fire emanates from a tall beacon tower on a fortress atop a stone escarpment, surrounded by the sea. ||== GAME AUTOSAVED ==||  > play clash.wav You arrive at BRANDERSCAR, the most notorious prison across all of Sulgard. None have escaped it and lived. Situated on a base of chalk stone striped with lines of flint at the mouth of Waldo’s Awe, this castle is surrounded on all sides by the churning waters of the Nacurias, where amid beds of mussels and clams it is said the bones of attempted escapees broken on the stones still rest. Entrance is via a special “gatehouse” where you are lifted up by a cable car system up onto the rocks. Inside, you are “processed.” Intake involves an interrogation and full body search, then you are stripped of everything you wear or hold and cleaned with cold water. A tonsure is cut into your hair, and you are dressed in roughspun hemp robes that itch slightly, both markers of your supposed humility. In the days of the Landfried, there is little need for places like Branderscar, and thus it is mostly empty, allowing a sort of special, personal attention to be paid to the prisoners within. You see that they are a motley bunch, including many demihumans such as yourself but stranger things too: kobolds, orcs, even a fetch, a rare sight indeed. What KINDRED do you claim?
> My delicate form wilted in the sunless room, for I am an AELF. Blessed by Air but burdened by Hours, we left this world eons ago only to return to save it, our Astral Journey having changed our nature to adapt wherever we roam, living a deathless if not truly immortal existence. We are the natural aristocracy of the Seventh World. > Dwarfed by many of my fellows, I present proudly as a GNOME. Blessed by Earth but burdened by Quiet, we may be small but we are tough in fiber and gifted with long years and creative minds. Yet, we are cursed to forever seek out new experiences less we lose the spark that animates us and revert back to stone. We are the unacknowledged stewards of the Seventh World. > Towering over all others, I am the sole OGRE among the prisoners this day. Blessed by Fire but burdened by Hunger, we were the favorite children of the giants, made closest in their image, but in our rebellion cursed the harshest. We have almost disappeared, a dying kindred, but none can compare to our physical power. We are reminders of the past to the Seventh World. One question seems slightly out of place: the ZODIAC sign you were born under. You have heard this prison operates mainly through arcane workings, and such a thing might be tied to the enchantments within. Under what constellation were you born?
> MELISSA, called the Bee or the Myrmidon, rules over the month of Ligeiad. > KERUKON, called the Snakes or the Hydra, rules over the month of Ennodar. > SULIS, called the Fish or the Kraken, rules over the month of Vodesan. > ALCIDES, called the Eagle or the Gryphon, rules over the month of Idrisil. > PELOPS, called the Mare or the Centaur, rules over the month of Herushan. > DARUNA, called the Hound or the Dragon, rules over the month of Bahamoot. > BASALKOS, called the Rooster or the Basilisk, rules over the month of Pentarin. > INKIL, called the Goat or the Capricorn, rules over the month of Nicarad. > EZ, called the Shark or the Warg, comes irregularly when marked by the passage of the comet-like Vagrant Star.
> I swam through the gossamer courts of Brecheliant, a courtier and a SPY serving at the behest of my handlers among the distant Commonwealth. I committed secrets to pages that I sent by carrier dove, enriching myself at the expense of the aristocracy. > I was an orphan raised within the Axiomatic Church as an acolyte in the Ninevar, taught to love the light of the Pantokrator, Mitra. In the libraries of my order however I found myself in possession of forbidden knowledge, and I became a WARLOCK when I bound my first demon. > Though I did my time among the thieves’ guild in Agurain, I made my bones robbing the vast carcasses of ancient empires hidden beneath the earth. As a TOMB ROBBER I purloined magical secrets and power for myself, known throughout the Empire for my deeds. > I hail from patrician heritage, a noble house of Rusante known for their sorcerous acumen. Our Quintoro traditions run deep and bloody, and I availed myself of the rite of VENDETTA to avenge slights from the vile Ghilcante clan. The authorities did not look favorably upon my privileges. > I was a soldier for the armies of the Kingdom of Sarum, patrolling the Blasgaunt to protect good civilized folk from the Shade-lands. But this is no longer a world for soldiers, and I led me and my men into the wilderness as a DESERTER, to make for greener pastures than these. welfarestateofmind fucked around with this message at 17:05 on Sep 2, 2023 |
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Sep 1, 2023 19:45
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> Dwarfed by many of my fellows, I present proudly as a GNOME. Blessed by Earth but burdened by Quiet, we may be small but we are tough in fiber and gifted with long years and creative minds. Yet, we are cursed to forever seek out new experiences less we lose the spark that animates us and revert back to stone. We are the unacknowledged stewards of the Seventh World. > BASALKOS, called the Rooster or the Basilisk, rules over the month of Pentarad. > I swam through the gossamer courts of Brecheliant, a courtier and a SPY serving at the behest of my handlers among the distant Commonwealth. I committed secrets to pages that I sent by carrier dove, enriching myself at the expense of the aristocracy.
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Sep 1, 2023 19:56
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> Towering over all others, I am the sole OGRE among the prisoners this day. Blessed by Fire but burdened by Hunger, we were the favorite children of the giants, made closest in their image, but in our rebellion cursed the harshest. We have almost disappeared, a dying kindred, but none can compare to our physical power. We are reminders of the past to the Seventh World. > INKIL, called the Goat or the Capricorn, rules over the month of Ashmedan. > Though I did my time among the thieves’ guild in Agurain, I made my bones robbing the vast carcasses of ancient empires hidden beneath the earth. As a TOMB ROBBER I purloined magical secrets and power for myself, known throughout the Empire for my deeds.
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Sep 1, 2023 20:12
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>OGRE >TOMB ROBBER Arcanuse fucked around with this message at 20:29 on Sep 1, 2023 |
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Sep 1, 2023 20:26
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>GNOME >EZ HBar fucked around with this message at 03:50 on Sep 2, 2023 |
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Sep 1, 2023 22:36
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>AELF (secondary choice: >OGRE if it helps to break a tie) >INKIL >BANDIT QUEEN gently caress yeah
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Sep 2, 2023 00:56
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On second thought, >TOMB ROBBER sounds like an even better deal. We get the same independence, less risk, more ancient lore, and more arcane loot.
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Sep 2, 2023 03:54
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Aelf ALCIDES Tomb Robber
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Sep 2, 2023 16:55
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||== PROLOGUE: WAY OF THE WICKED ==|| > play clash.wav  No, you are no mere convict. You are the descendant of warrior queens, conquerors and heroes. A proud ogre of the Vendalic line, with red hair and burning eyes like fire. You stand over eight feet tall, yet have no discomfort in these surroundings, for the castle that is to be your prison was built by your ancestors long ago, a Vendalic outpost of the Sixth World. Thus your environs are far more fitting to your frame than your more diminutive cousins. As the tonsure is cut across the front of your crown in the Sarumite style, it only further exposes the bony ridge of your horned brow all the more. You are powerfully built, but more mass than muscle; you never relied solely upon the natural gifts of your kindred as some, preferring to use your wits and craft as much as your terrible arms. And, admittedly, you allowed yourself many creature comforts in the depths of your great success, before being brought low now in hempen cloth, set for the branding iron in moments’ time. You are even given some hard tack to grind between your great teeth as you wait your time to step through the circle into white hot pain. It is not enough to sate your hunger, but nothing ever is.
> New Tags: [SPECIES: DEMIHUMAN] [KINDRED: OGRE] ”The Manual" posted:
Perhaps we can trace the seed of Evil all the way back to the beginning, Dark One. Never let it be said you were born under a good omen. Your birth was wreathed in darkness in the coldest nights of the year, with your mother bearing you under the Umbral eclipse of the great solar disk. Like others favored of INKIL, you are viewed as touched by the occult and strange. The Goat is a symbol of sacrifice and wisdom, but conversely the Capricorn represents transformation and corruption, and those born under their sign are seen as prone to malleable minds, souls, even bodies. Yet since you were a child, with a burning heart, you have plumbed the darkness, ever hungry for what you might find. Your clan is distant from the days of viking glory. Settled for generations in the Buckles, sedentary life has resulted in a shifting of roles. Brava swordswomen have little place in the Landfried, so the men with their craft and homesteading have taken the pride of place among the guilds that define Guranese life. Even the women have often given up the sword for the spindle. Your parents were both masons, fat and happy and doting, though you never desired to follow in their footsteps. There was no other path for you than to be a brava, a free blade, who takes their destiny, treasure, and men at the point of a sword. You wanted little for affection or care, and they were willing to buy anything to try and win your heart. You even turned down the opportunity to go to the College of Wizardry at Styrmonium and develop your natural sorcerous talents, which you only ever wished to hone to make yourself a greater warrior. It was, much like your appetite, never enough.
> New Tags: [ZODIAC: INKIL] [CLAN: MAELRUADHA] The Manual posted:
Having amassed a fortune of contacts and coin, you invested. Instead of working for others, you began to build an organization of your own. With your crew you plumbed the darkness of the underworld, tombs and dungeons across the continent. While your previous line of work sometimes skirted the law, you kept your nose clean for years, being careful to ride the line between desecration and archaeology. Your patrons became wizards, aristocrats, even dukes and the royal family at one point. Your villa grew and was decorated with the artifacts of the Sixth, Fifth, even the Fourth World. You even uncovered some of the wonders of the Third World. Your lieutenant (and butler), a Cazzeri fixer by the name of Amadeas, continued to provide you leads for all sorts of hidden treasures. Your vault swelled with things from so many worlds and cultures that the languages and words to describe them with have long been forgotten. You mastered ancient incantations while using your prodigious physical prowess and sharp mind to become an adventurer known throughout Sulgard. You were a hero to many, a villain to some, but no one could deny you your glory. It was, however, still not enough.
> New Tags: [BRANDING: TOMB ROBBER] [CULTURE: GURANESE] [HOMETOWN: TANTALLON] [SKILL: SEAFARING] [LORE: DUNGEONS] ”The Manual” posted:
 > play nowayout.wav After processing, you are led in irons, fully manacled hand and foot, onto a magic circle, and the Wizard-Warden MORTIGERN casts a spell that transports you magically into the depths of the dungeon, such that you do not get a sense of the layout of the castle. In the depths of Branderscar, in a sunless room lit by burning oil from a bronze brazier, you are to become one of the FORSAKEN, branded upon your body with the runic “f”. It gives you some time to reflect. What was the final trespass, the crime that lead you to this place, to be denied in this life and the next the grace of the all-forgiving Mitra?
> Underneath the great Massif that divides the deserts of Agurain from the rest of the continent is the remnants of the Moresain, the ancestors of many of the gnomish peoples of Sulgard and a great subterranean empire that spanned much of Chur. You were led to a LOST ARMIGER, a massive apparatus of crystal and stone that could be worn like a gargantuan suit of armor that towered over castles, but in awakening this old technology the ruins were collapsed and destroyed forever. > In the black sands of Zatopetra, under the great necropolis of Volturnos, you sought the HEART OF ST. PENTAR, a reliquary said to be able to gift anyone who drinks of its ichor everlasting life, amongst other blessings and powers attributed to its miracles. Stealing from the Axiomatic Church was not your usual bag, but you found myself allured by Amadeas’s temptations. Your reach ended up exceeding your grasp. “Ye’r a special one, aren’t ye? Aye, made sure to have this special delivered for this very moment.” As the brand heats up, becoming blazing hot and white, he displays a large velvet case on the table aside, lit only by the magical fires of the brazier. Flickering as it does, you cannot help but feel your heart sink as he opens it, and displays to you your finest treasure, an opportunity to mock you for how low you have sunk. What treasure does he display?
> A pair of STARWHEELS crafted from mithral, pistols with a unique mechanism that carries firepowder cartridges in a revolving action, crafted during the Fifth World, allowing you to rapidly fire well beyond the matchlocks favored by most. > A BRILLIANT WHIP that appears normally as a metal-banded leather bullwhip handle but extends with lambent energy to great distances, and able to cause tremendous pain to those it entangles, thrumming with electrical energy. An artifact of the Fourth World. The branding touches against your cheek. The skin burns and scars, infused with its accursed magic. The brand is not merely a physical mark, but one goes down to the very essence of your soul. It is enchanted such that it will never heal, and can never be removed. Indeed, it thrums with an almost wicked energy all its own, radiating with a power that perhaps could be traced or tracked. Though, with no one ever having escaped Branderscar, who could really say?
> New Tag: [FORSAKEN] ”The Manual” posted:Over the course of this adventure, your character may suffer Harm. How much and when you do so will often be determined by your Attributes, but it is inevitable that along your way to world domination that you will suffer some setbacks. … … ||== NOW LOADING ==|| ... code:
welfarestateofmind fucked around with this message at 18:46 on Sep 2, 2023 |
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Sep 2, 2023 18:42
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>HEART OF ST PENTAR >A BRILLIANT WHIP We are the great and terrible >Sarah
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Sep 2, 2023 19:37
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>HEART OF ST. PENTAR >STARWHEELS We are the, ah. >*Keybo Perfect. e: (pronounced Kayh-bored Smay-sh, naturally  )
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Sep 2, 2023 20:52
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Slaan posted:We are the great and terrible S A R A H _ _ Name submission valid. Arcanuse posted:>*Keybo K E Y B O R D Name submission valid. code:
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Sep 2, 2023 21:10
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Heart of St. Pentar Brilliant Whip Name: Ose
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Sep 2, 2023 21:30
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>EGG OF A GREAT WYRM, delicious >STARWHEELS >Z O R K L A R
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Sep 3, 2023 00:30
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>Egg of a Great Wyrm >Brilliant Whip >Sarah
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Sep 3, 2023 01:47
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LOST ARMIGER STARWHEELS SARAH
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Sep 3, 2023 03:07
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>HEART OF ST PENTAR >STARWHEELS >SARAH
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Sep 3, 2023 03:41
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Junpei posted:Name: Ose O S E _ _ _ _ Name submission valid. Zoya posted:>Z O R K L A R Z O R K L A R Name submission valid. code:
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Sep 3, 2023 05:07
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code:> play echoes.wav You slip into darkness after the thud of the blackjack, swimming in your thoughts. For a moment, there is the sensation of a dozen different voices and directions, glimpses at other possibilities, but in this moment they all come together. It is as if you feel your life being written before you, knowing full well that your final hour may soon approach. Branderscar is not merely a prison. It is a gallows, first of the soul and then the body. The Branding is not merely a mark, but a spiritual wound. You have always pushed farther and harder than your peers, and finally have crossed a line, an event horizon from which you cannot return. Penance is possible but not true salvation. You are a villain now, whether you want it or not. You remember another life, another dream. About how you would make them all pay. So who must pay? Perhaps first it must be the Lieutenant, who has your most priceless treasure. The dual starwheels, from a time in which the world was stalked by cavaliers with similar weapons at their hip. The Commonwealth’s paladins keep this tradition alive, but in Sulgard, few trust the demon powder. Not you. There’s something practical, sure, but also glorious in the power to point, click, and kill. A part of you has always taken a certain pleasure in the power of the hammer coming down. The simplicity of it. Many encounters have erupted with a whiff of smoke and be ended suddenly. Thus, you have been known as Thunderarmed.
> New Tages: [DEEDNAME: THUNDERARMED] Eventually though, these images fade away. Instead, you see what your eventual fate is to become.  You are the Hearttaker. You pilfered not merely a tomb, but a sacred reliquary, one of the holiest not just to your people but in all of Sulgard. St. Pentar was one of the loyal apostles of Mitra during the great Sunstroke, that ended the tyranny of the Great Adversary on earth. Sure, that might seem all myth until you saw the heart itself, still beating, giving off its golden ichor. You felt immediately the grandeur and power within it, and for a beat, you wondered if it would be right to take it.
> New Tages: [DEEDNAME: HEARTTAKER] The trial to follow felt nearly as much of an ambush. You watched as all of your contacts, associates, even friends came out and testified against you. The Countess of Lysis, the aelvish noble who had risen to be the spymaster for the royal family, a social rival that you always thought of as a sparring partner more than anything else, acted as your prosecutor. The Artifix herself, newly appointed, holy mother of the Axiomatic Church, acted as judge. All of Sulgard knows of your misdeeds. But it was Amadeas Volozza’s testimony that stung the most, and fed the bitter bile rising inside of you. The man had been loyal and steadfast for years, and knew all of your secrets. He spilled them for all, and you realized that he had them all fooled. He fully intended to usurp everything you had built, the legend you had made for yourself, and did so through this wretched betrayal. And worse, everyone commended him for it. The disgusting “mercy” of the Mitrans on full display, that the one who repents first wins the day. The sentence was to be forsaken, and then to be hung, as one might a simple thief. Somehow, this reduced everything that you were: adventurer, sorceress, brava, tomb raider, hero, villain, all into something far lesser. A mere criminal.    All must pay, but of these three, who do you hold responsible for it all? Who is to rise above the others, to become your first, if not only, true Nemesis?
> The COUNTESS clearly engineered all of this from the very start, turning your butler against you and working for years on your downfall. She may claim that the ends justify the means in the pursuit of Good, but you know that you and her are not so different after all. > But of course, the BUTLER clearly delivered the most intimate wound. He will move to replace you, taking your vault and treasures for his own purposes. A usurper that must be dethroned if you are to return to your glory. Be welcome, Dark One, to your new destiny. ||= GAME AUTOSAVED =|| ||= BOOK ONE: SYMPHONY OF SORROWS =|| || == == 24 Herushan, 2979 VII == == || > play shreds.wav  You awake in your new accommodations by the gentle rays of the solar disk spilling forth from a slit in the ceiling directly above you. As you take in your surroundings, you are shocked at how pleasant they are. Your bed is a tightly wound cloth cot atop a straw mattress. In addition to the window slit above your bed are two other larger windows with wrought iron bars in three layers, which ventilates the room with a chill draft. At the wall a lion’s head trickles fresh spring water driven up from the wells beneath the prison, from which you may drink or bathe, though given no privacy from the sight of the guards, the sun, or the doves that flock above. Indeed, above where there might be a solid ceiling is instead more iron bars, and open rafters within which white doves flock and coo, glancing down with beady eyes. You are given several buckets with which to collect water in, and other matters as well. Manacles rest above the bed but are rarely used. The crumbling masonry exposes moss that show the age of these walls, recovered and used once by the Kings of Sarum against invasion by sea from the fleets of the old marcher lords of Rusante. Each cell is paired with another and accessible through a hallway with mechanically locked and operated portcullises. Food and other amenities arrive regularly, though you are required to set your arms in the manacles before it is delivered. Equally annoyingly are the constant visits by Reverend TULL, the doddering old chaplain, who almost mechanically asks if you have repented each dawn. Your CELL-MATE is your only other company save for the occasional passing guard, who you can see across from the portcullis entrance of your cell and engage in conversation with to while away the hours.
> You are placed on the second level of the cell block, across from a gnomish woman named HESPERA. This one you know immediately by reputation: the Hag Godmother, the vicious leader of the Ninevarine branch of the Omthel, the gnomish crime syndicate. You heard that she arranged for the assassination of the previous Artifix, the leader of the Axiomatic Church. You expected a withered and bitter crone by the name, but this one is merely middle aged, with bronze skin but black hair rather than the garish colors of other gnomes. > You are placed on the first floor of the cell block, across from an aelf with terrible burns across his body, named CATHBAD. A cheerful fellow with a Cradish dialect, his immediate charm and candor belies what brought him here. To hear the guards tell it, he burned down a series of churches in his homeland of Brecheliant, all with the congregants in it, killing dozens, perhaps over a hundred. He is quick to admit it. “No one can live forever,” he offers. “It is the end times, after all.” You sense a heat within him not unlike your own.  Outside your cells, the prison is a strange mixture of new construction that somehow seems run down, and antique walls with high vaulted ceilings and crumbling masonry. The interior hallways of the Grand Hall are lit with a pale blue light from enchanted sconces, rather than torchlight. It gets very dark indeed at night at Branderscar, and it's not difficult to see that very few guards patrol the walls from your barred windows, always marked with a single torch, maybe one or two for each direction.
> You opted instead for the SCRIPTORIUM to act as an amaneusis, as the Lord Warden employs prisoners in copying and illuminating manuscripts. Exposure to his library might be reason enough to seek this out, but the hours are long and grueling and may expend as much of your mental energy as give you leads to escape from. Of course, you will be under the direct supervision of the Lord Warden or his apprentices, and one should be careful when trifling with wizards. > Lastly, if one is on their best behavior, they might be allowed to help in the KITCHENS. The servants’ quarter of the castle is almost sealed off from the rest, accessible only through slits and a dumb-waiter system intentionally to isolate the prisoners from the staff, but those on their best behavior are given the opportunity to demonstrate their repentance. The serving staff are mainly Rodkhora gnomes, a seafaring, nomadic people whose bands sometimes come ashore to make coin for a time. They may be an asset.  Even with the warden gone, every move you make is watched closely by Lieutenant Blackbriar. The foul-mouthed, blue-haired gnome is a vain and venal man unbecoming of his station, yet seems to have a grip over his men who love him dearly, and some influence over the warden as well. He is often unnecessarily cruel, much like Mortigern’s apprentice Simulba, which is in stark contrast with the general lax and accommodating atmosphere. The laxity on display here is almost galling to witness. You see perhaps two or four guards every shift, meant to be in pairs but often breaking protocol to split up for one reason or another. There can’t be more than a couple dozen in total. Branderscar is hardly a glorious assignment, meaning that many of these are not the best and brightest, though they are professionals paid for by the Crown. Many aren’t from around here, but from Rusante or Laithlind, where mercenary companies are common. The Earl of Fleness, the local lord, has little interest in this land. Still, the men are paid well, and live equally well. You are treated with respect and mirth that feels at first mocking, but then increasingly becomes apparent is sincere, which is somehow worse. The guards are merry and flushed with a little wine before their shift, laughing jovially and asking if you were ready to “face the sun” each morning with beaming smiles. They brush past insults and shake their heads, tightening their belts and letting you know that while the Warden is away, the lieutenant will be keeping a close eye. You can sense that these defenses, so storied as they are, have not been truly tested inn decades. That may be about to change. Blackbriar is dangerous, but you suspect his influence brings an opportunity. Wine-soaked guards and corruption under the table mean a rot at the base of this prison that can be exploited. If you were able to recover your STARWHEELS perhaps, or uncover some secret power hidden away here in the Lord Warden’s secret lab you suspect, or deep in the depths of the castle itself… He will pay. They all will, but Blackbriar especially. The question is, when and how? You need to identify where the defenses are most vulnerable, and where you can exert the greatest amount of your talents.
> The castle employs three DOGSBODIES to clean and keep the place spic and span: three goblins. Many consider goblins wretched things, but having employed them yourself, you know that while they have… eccentric thought patterns, they are quite clever and observant, and they can fit into tight and small space. And luckily for an ogre such as you, there is little they respect more than one’s stature. > The wizard’s APPRENTICES are a weak link. The boy Halstan is callow and easily turned, while Simulba is cruel but envious of power. I could rely on my charm and my own magical power to rope them into some kind of scheme long enough to access the power of the mage tower atop the battlements. > Most of the guards here are MERCENARIES loyal to coin rather than country. You have wealth beyond most of their imaginings, even if it is not accessible to you. Perhaps leveraging your stolen treasure in the custody of the Lieutenant might suffice as a down payment. > [TOMB ROBBER] The castle itself holds many secrets. They are digging deep and there may be escape through the tunnels below. You have less to fear than most of the churning sea with the burning of your ogrish heart, but it would be leaping into a great unknown besides. > Something ELSE . . . welfarestateofmind fucked around with this message at 19:14 on Sep 3, 2023 |
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Sep 3, 2023 18:29
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> WITCHFINDER A good old clash of forces of nature! > CATHBAD He seems like fun. > KITCHENS Always get on the good side of the serving staff, they have influence that others do not possess. > THREE DOGSBODIES.
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Sep 3, 2023 19:05
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Witchfinder Tenius Scriptorium Apprentices We're a wizard lady with a point in Betrayal. Let's use that.
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Sep 3, 2023 19:18
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COUNTESS seems the most plausible mastermind. HESPERA for the criminal skill set and gnomish crime syndicate aesthetics. CHAIN GANG to get us into the ruins TOMB ROBBER as escaping through ancient ruins sounds rather exciting. malbogio fucked around with this message at 20:37 on Sep 3, 2023 |
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Sep 3, 2023 20:34
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A tough choice. I yearn for a tombrobber-chaingang escapade, but I want the STARWHEELS back more. >BUTLER >CATHBAD >KITCHEN >THREE DOGSBODIES No matter. And that Heart of St. Pentar will be ours, eventually. What less might tame the Hunger?
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Sep 3, 2023 22:10
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>Countess. The witchfinder was filling his role and the butler was salvaging what he could from a situation not of his own making, but the Countess had a choice. >Hespera will be an asset both inside and out, if we can find a way to bring her with us. >Kitchens, maybe Hespera will have a connection there. >Dogsbodies, the watch will barely notice those they consider beneath their attention.
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Sep 3, 2023 22:17
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||= BOOK ONE: SYMPHONY OF SORROWS =|| || == == 24 Herushan, 2979 VII == == || > play conspiracy.wav  The festering thought returns to you from before: who deserves your deepest ire? You dismiss your majordomo easily. He was always a catspaw, first for you and now for others. He will dealt with in time, of course, but he is not the mastermind. Clearly, that is the Countess, and for a time you feel the rising hatred move you to blame everything upon her feet. It has her fingerprints all over it. But, in the end, the heat of your ogrish heart does not quicken so much when you think of her cold manipulations. No, it is the Witchfinder that haunts you. Who is the Witchfinder? A quickling born in the Ninevar, Ralann has lived to a venerable age for his kindred, with over four score years under his belt, yet seemingly losing none of his edge. During the earliest parts of the Landfried, the old Inquisition finished the grand project of seeking to eliminate all faiths save for that of Mitra, and there was no small amount of resistance to this. The current King’s grandfather built much of the new peace on a bed of heretic skulls, and the Witchfinder remains a reminder of that time. There was no bargaining, not even a single word exchanged between the two of you. He cannot be reasoned with. He cannot be stopped. Sorcery failed, every cunning trick a waste, and his brutality easily eclipsed your own. Notched upon his post are dozens of would-be villains and “Dark Ones” like yourself. The only thing that separates you from them is just how close you came to despoiling and desecrating the reliquary dearest to his Lodge and faith. You have been noticed. The Lord Warden was to accompany the Witchfinder to Auld Sarum on some business, you recall. You remember the burning of his gaze, and yet also something hollow. This is a man who has become truly the antithesis of what you seek. A living weapon that can only be wielded, not a hero defined by their Will and strength. And who wields the Witchfinder? Why, the Gods of course. The thought comes back: Who is truly responsible? And the realization dawns that if this destiny has been ordained for you… then best to lean into it. The Gods were all mortal once, after all. Your fate shall be to make them remember this, you swear. At even thinking such blasphemy, you feel the sin weigh upon your heart. You are telling yourself a tale, a lie: to challenge even the Gods, who destroyed the Sixth World to create a new one? Yours is a dark faery tale, Dark One.
> New Tag: [NEMESIS: WITCHFINDER]  If you were left alone with your thoughts, you feel the poison might consume your entire body. Such rage feels futile in these current circumstances, so you are pleasantly surprised that your misery is given company. Across the portcullis that encloses your personal cell, in the short truncated hallway broken off from the larger prison block, is your new friend on the other side: Hespera Priscas, of the Clan Khazakver. The Hag Godmother. It is somewhat surprising that the two of your had never been acquainted before, but it’s been some years since you dealt with the Omthel cartels, as you had tried to keep yourself legit for some time, and the crackdowns in Agurain in particular have been brutal. The Omthel grew out of smuggling between the secretive underground kingdoms of the gnomes and their surface brethren, and still maintains a powerful grip on smuggling operations across the continent, and increasingly beyond. Indeed, Sulgard as the “home country” has more and more been abandoned for greener pastures, especially in the colonies of Magna Orna in far-away Algoboa. Clan Khazakver is one of the holdouts, and has fallen on hard times. Last you heard, much like yourself, they had been trying to go legit under Hespera’s father, Nikare, the former famulus (boss) of the clan. There is an instantaneous kinship between the two of you in your ambitions to be something more. No mere mafia princess, Hespera had to work her way from the bottom to get to her position, with dozens of siblings and cousins ahead of her in the line of succession. That she did so without a bloodbath is an achievement in itself, especially because she is not pureblooded. Though her skin still has the bronze tint you might expect from the metallic tinged gnomes, her hair and many of her other features indicate different heritage. Indeed, her mother was a quickling patrician by the name of Elishat, an attempt by her father to legitimize his position in Ninevarine society, which always marked her as different from many of her siblings. It also means as a halfling she’s a mite bit taller than some of her fellows, a little over four feet tall. Her own brand rests at the front of her throat, above her vocal cords. Associating with the Hag Godmother will certainly not do much to gild your reputation, but her advice and position might come in very useful indeed.
> You have gained a new Pawn! HESPERA has joined you as an accomplice. code:”The Manual" posted:
During the first day, Hespera instructs you in the basics of Cant. Many think of Cant as a secret language, one of many the gnomes employ, which has since spread throughout many thieves’ guilds across the eight corners of the world, but Cant is far more a pattern of speech than it is a lexicon. It is, ironically enough, difficult to put into words. Certain nonverbal gestures, rhyming schemes, and lilts of the voice allow those who know the Cant to communicate things secretly even when being listened in on. It doesn’t work like a code, as it is entirely contextual to conversations and one-on-one interactions. This might come in very useful indeed.
 "Come back to me with a real plan, SARAH. I'll be listening."|| == == 25 Herushan, 2979 VII == == || > play edge.wav
Nothing to be done about it. You have only three days to make your escape, if what the Lieutenant said during your branding was true. You know how to ply your charm as well when it is needed, and when the old Reverend Tull comes in the next morning, you ask what humble works you could commit to this day. The old chaplain, barely sensate, is easily fooled by your play at repentance, and the guards, still sodden from last night's wine, make little fuss about it when you are led out of your cell, for a day of hard labor in the servants' tower. You eagerly take this opportunity to scope out your surroundings, something you are quite familiar with considering your last line of work. Branderscar is something of a chimera of a castle, with Seventh World masonry built atop the Sixth World citadel hewn magically from the stone beneath it. Within the stones are chambers and a deeper hold that is still being excavated, as well as supplies the stores and barracks below. Atop this ground is a large castle "yard" open to the sky above and lined with crenelations, upon which three implements of execution are hosted: a ravenstone, a gallows, and a pyre. King Markadian forbids many of the more elaborate execution methods, leaving only these three remaining: beheading, hanging, or burning at the stake. Mainly from new construction but built around three ancient towers is the prison keep itself, with three stories each containing a cell block within it, and a donjon further built into the stones below. The three towers rise further up, containing within each a chapel to Mitra, a beacon towards the sea, and the Lord Warden's wizard tower in the last. It is even said that the chaplain maintains an elaborate rooftop garden, and the lieutenant keeps bees for his famous homebrew mead, to hear the guards tell it. Tull himself remarks wearily how sad it is you may never get a chance to walk among his lilies. You do not get much chance to map out the interior, however, as you are marched a fairly direct route out of your cell and to the central block. It is open to the floor above and below, with catwalks around the corners, and each floor having at least eight cells, paired similar to yours and Hespera's. You go through an archway, and as you do you hear a distinct humming, almost like a song just at the edge of hearing, that smells enchanted to your senses. One of the many wards laid by the Lord Warden, you imagine.
 Eventually you are led across a large hallway into a mess hall, where the few guards off their shift enjoy rather lavish meals for those of their station. You are taken to the back of the mess hall, leered at the whole while. Towards the back there is a shuttered window that opens into a dumbwaiter style system that connects this part of the castle with the servants' tower built alongside it. As an ogre, this is not the most comfortable way you've been moved about, especially with leg irons on, but despite the disquieting creaking of the rope and pulley as you are maneuvered across, you make it in one piece. The kitchens are, compared to the rest of the castle, rather warm and cozy, with all the accoutrements one might need to feed. However, while the rest of Branderscar seems built for proportions like your own, in here things are cramped. You easily dwarf all of the serving staff, that seem to all be gnomes, and very quickly it becomes apparent that you might be more hindrance than help here. Even so, despite the occasional eye you get for the brand on your face, everyone here is perfectly lovely and willing to give it a chance. The Rodkhora are a unique people, having abandoned the earth of their ancestors for the waves. Their coppery skin often develops a greenish patina at the contours of their skin, and their wiry hair braided into dreadlocks. They speak a pidgin language that is intelligible enough to your ears, borrowing heavily from Guranese as it does, but they also seem to carry on conversations that move too fast and quick to follow.
[Skill: Cant] But you don't need them to like you. By sheer kismet, your connection with Hespera pays off as the basic fluency with Cant allows you to listen in on their conversations. You learn they live on their houseboats anchored not too far away, meaning that if you can just make it to the ocean and not be dashed to pieces upon the sharp rocks, you might be able to find a means of escape. The first clear means of escape presented to you. You also learn the name of the one that they all seem to respect: RANKA Volyn.  You are not the only prisoner working in the kitchens. You are accompanied by a bent old crone by the name of GERTHRUDE. She has been a prisoner at Branderscar for some time, and compared to yourself seems far more familiar and trusted by the servants. She takes a shine to you and does her best to act as intermediary when the tension heightens, and softens the blow of some of your missteps besides. You realize it is not entirely for your benefit: she is canny enough to know that you are looking for opportunities. She plays the part of a kindly grandmother well, but there's something about her that does not sit entirely well with you. There's an intensity to the movement of the knife that she cuts the slivers of vegetables with. The fact she is trusted with the edged implement as such tells a story in itself, but you can smell the violence underneath the surface. It quickens the hunger within you almost as much as the smell of the delightful perpetual stew that happily simmers in the great cauldron within the firepit.
 "Ah, we've needed one like you here at Branderscar, SARAH. Esclaban will be pleased. Here, dearie, a little gift."
”The Manual" posted:
"When the time comes, go to the warden's tower. You will find my dear friend waiting for you there."Before she can explain the meaning of this plot, your time is over, and you are parted from each other into different cell blocks, though the shiv remains hidden upon your person. However, your conspiracy has grown by one more this day.
code: The kitchens weren't your only angle. You took note that the only servants allowed into the prison proper were three dogsbodies, each a diminutive little goblin. Given the thankless poo poo work that inevitably accumulates in running such a prison as this, goblins seem to relish in such busywork, and not solely as an excuse to accumulate the useless junk and trinkets that obsess and fascinate them. A head shorter than even the smallest gnome, they are also able to fit into and through all sorts of strange spaces and corners, which you are certain this castle is riddled with.
> You have gained a new Pawn! DOGBDES has joined you as your minions. code:
 "MISTRESS! You must know that there is a HUGE monster in the donjon! We should make him ours!" "Big loving piece of shitmeat, bloody could carve an rear end in a top hat right through the rest of the guards." "Carve."|| == == 26 Herushan, 2979 VII == == || > play sarah.wav
> In addition, you will be given a list of OPPORTUNITIES. These are based on leads and elements of the narrative, and are in addition to the plan voted upon. Pursuing an Opportunity usually means risk for reward, and the more you pursue, the riskier it becomes. You can vote for as many Opportunities as you like. The vote is counted both in how many are and which ones, which will be used to determine how many the Dark One pursues, and which ones. You can also create your own Opportunities and vote for those as well, though not all submitted may be counted as valid. > A Scheme might come with pre-set choices, but for this first one, we'll focus solely on the scheme with no other choices given in the narrative, to acclimate ourselves to the system. Opportunities
welfarestateofmind fucked around with this message at 18:54 on Sep 5, 2023 |
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Sep 5, 2023 02:35
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Still writing up notes. But I can't help but notice one of the prisoners is below, in the Dunjon. The mass murderer. The same Dunjon, presumably, the Dogsbodies are talking about. I can't say the beast is the murderer for certain, but it seems likely. e: >CONSULT HESPERA. They've been around longer, they ought have some insight on the guard patrols. Arcanuse fucked around with this message at 18:55 on Sep 5, 2023 |
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Sep 5, 2023 18:38
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We don't quite have all the pieces together for a coherent escape plan yet. Right now we could cause some mayhem and improvise and hope for the best, but we really need a better idea of exactly what we're up against, how we're going to deal with it, and how we get out. Were the starwheels loaded when we were captured? That'll make a difference in how important it is to recover them right now, versus plotting a way to get them back after we're free. Although even unloaded starwheels could be useful for bluffing our way out. Things that would be good to do today include:
Things that should probably be part of the escape plan include:
We probably don't want to take anyone out until it's time to escape, or do anything else that would raise alarm, unless we have a way to make it look completely innocuous.
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Sep 5, 2023 23:23
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What specific doors would our Keystone let us access? Is it a 'master key' as it were, or does it only open specific spell-protected doors? But yeah, I don't see a Bulletproof Plan, so i say we use what we have to gather more intel and supplies.
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Sep 6, 2023 00:01
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Arcanuse posted:>CONSULT HESPERA. "It seems you're hell bent on this, which I can't fault you for. You're on a timer, after all." "The guards are divided into four watches: Matins, Lauds, Vespers and Nocturns, based on the four vigils of the day. For each floor, four should be stationed, but they have been at half-strength as of late, and the ones we've been served half asleep or sodden on the Lieutenant's mead. It is partly how he keeps their loyalty, his laxity, though they pay for it with their own coin. An admirable racket, Blackbriar has." "You will want the cover of the Black Moon at night, whatever your play. I suggest Nocturns. If you create a large enough distraction, they won't be able to respond to you in time. The Rodkhora's boats might be your best bet, but you'll have to trust you can whisper sweetly enough to the wind that it will break your fall before the rocks below." "However, the Laithish fusilier is a gnome, and our eyes and ears are made for the dark. Umbra will not save you from her musket, if you're exposed. That's why she has the Nocturns watch under her belt. If only we knew what were in the depths below, that might cover your escape better, but there's no guarantee of a way out." "As for the crone, I don't trust her. She seems to put her faith in fairy tales, such as this Esclaban. If the Enchanter King truly haunts this place, I would not dare trifle with him." It was a passing reference, but it dawns upon you that the Esclaban that Gerthrude might have been referring to was an old King of Sarum, a foreign sorcerer who plotted his way to power, who was imprisoned once in this place when it was first made a prison for villains such as you. If there is any truth to what Gerthrude was saying about her "dear friend", then it could be a dangerous wildcard... or potent asset.HBar posted:Were the starwheels loaded when we were captured? That'll make a difference in how important it is to recover them right now, versus plotting a way to get them back after we're free. Although even unloaded starwheels could be useful for bluffing our way out. code:Junpei posted:What specific doors would our Keystone let us access? Is it a 'master key' as it were, or does it only open specific spell-protected doors? code:HBar posted:We probably don't want to take anyone out until it's time to escape, or do anything else that would raise alarm, unless we have a way to make it look completely innocuous. Junpei posted:But yeah, I don't see a Bulletproof Plan, so i say we use what we have to gather more intel and supplies. code:welfarestateofmind fucked around with this message at 00:19 on Sep 6, 2023 |
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Sep 6, 2023 00:17
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How fast can we expect word to get out about a prison break? A houseboat won't be able to outrun anything if patrollers come looking for us.
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Sep 6, 2023 01:53
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HBar posted:How fast can we expect word to get out about a prison break? A houseboat won't be able to outrun anything if patrollers come looking for us. code:
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Sep 6, 2023 02:49
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>Show Hespera the Keystone. The fact that we managed to snag this should count for something, give her a little more faith in us, maybe sway her, right? Unless she already knows we have it.
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Sep 6, 2023 03:01
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