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One year ago, history ended. Over twenty thousand soldiers died in a single hour- several times as many wounded. The armies of the Empire fell on each other in a hysterical, vicious fight to prove that one twin brother was born a few seconds before the other and as such had the right to rule. Instead, both brothers died on the field of battle, rallying their troops to one last effort. The battle continued in a desultory fashion for a few minutes after that, but the impetus was gone- the broken, demoralized remnants of each side withdrew from the blood soaked fields as the magnitude of what had happened sunk in. There was no Emperor- there were no suitable members of the Imperial bloodline left alive to take the throne and lead their people anymore. They were alone- and they weren't the only ones who knew it. In a world adjacent, the land of dreams and spirits, the gods' plans and machinations had finally born fruit. Their people- their worshipers- had in their convulsions of madness destroyed the Empire. They left themselves leaderless- the gods would retake their position as leaders. The ancient treaty exiling them to their dreamland realm was gone, made with the first of a bloodline that had at last run dry. That alone would not have held them at bay- but millions of their worshipers knew the treaty was done, and they no longer believed the gods could be restrained against their will. And so the god of war slammed his sword into the veil between worlds and slashed. Most mortals felt nothing. The particularly magically inclined perhaps had a second's stabbing headache, right when reality sundered and the border between worlds was opened. Just a second, and seven hundred years of peace and order vanished like a mirage. The gods thundered back to their homes, appearing to awestruck and often terrified priests. The magic that soaked the world of dreams washed out in a tide, infusing every corner of the world with fresh arcane power. The talented wizards became titans. Hedge wizards became formidable powers. And some of those without any apparent magical talent became wizards in their own right as well. And had that been all, it might have worked. But the gods did not inhabit the world of dreams alone, nor was their return to physicality a path only they could walk. Less damaging was a torrent of smaller spirits, without the power to manifest a physical body even now. They could talk, and wheedle, and scheme for power, but all for little. Worse by far were the monsters. When the Compact was formed, the particularly magical creatures were sealed away along with the gods. Lacking in amusement, the gods turned to the monsters while barred from the world of mortals. Often they hunted them for sport, other times simply for practice. Those that had left lived short, vicious lives of terror and rage, all the while telling each other of the world of mortals they would return to. It became, to those monsters whose sole hope was to elude the huntress for one more day, the great dream of salvation. They returned with the gods. Those who exiled them were already there, and reacted to them with the fear and violence the monsters had long since accepted as their lot in life. The gods still paid attention to them- still coursed them mercilessly. And so the endless ranks of monsters and demons reacted as they'd longed to be able to react in their dreams. With overwhelming violence. Travelers set on alone were torn apart, cities assaulted with fanatical rage. Some stood aloof from the carnage, preferring to try to talk, to make sure that this time they would stay because they could have value to the mortals and gods alike. Some lost themselves in the violence, going fully bestial and losing whatever low cunning they'd had. Still others tried to overawe, to conquer the mortals. But all were implacably set that this time, they were not leaving- they had been exiled, tormented, butchered before. Never Again. Whether by intimidation or diplomacy- more often the former, accompanied by orgies of devastation- they would never be weak enough to destroy again. What that meant for mortal cities caught in their path, or in areas they chose to make their own... their stories rarely ended happily.  The first few months were the worst. The full flood tide of monsters seemed as though it would wash the entire world in blood, outnumbering mortal soldiers and fighting to the death with seemingly no thought for their own lives. The gods pitched in, throwing their champions and children into the fray against armies of nightmares, and what remained of the Empire's armies banded together and held a thin steel line against the chaos. And hold they did- the fighting was less brutal in any one place than the Brief War, but far more died as the fighting was... almost everywhere. After the first apocalyptic wave, things settled down. Even the numerous hordes of monsters couldn't sustain their casualties, and there were enough areas they'd won that the less hardline could at least claim to feel safe- though all monsters know in their hearts, and in their memories, that it's not enough. Then there are the gods. Rulers of all they surveyed, and then exiled to the thin stuff of dreams, and now able to make their triumphant return- but to a world that's gotten along mostly without them for centuries. Worshippers they have, but rarely in the full-throated, desperate way they're used to. Few will openly scorn them, fewer still take up arms against them, but... few truly love them, anymore. Homecoming was not the glorious restoration they'd hoped for, and the gods are still split on what they should do about it. Some hold that they must adapt to their new roles, that the gods must take up roles of advisors and protectors instead of lords. Rather than change the world, they would change themselves. Others, more hard-line, will accept nothing short of a return to the 'good old days' where gods strode the earth as unchallenged masters and all bent the knee to even the least among them. Violence, terror, any atrocity would be acceptable to restore the natural order. Of course, there are mortals who hold similar, if inverted, beliefs. That the way forward is to return to the past- but the past of the Empire, where there were no gods or monsters to terrorize good men and women. Some want merely to restore the Compact and exile the supernatural once more to its lair of dreams. But some... dream of deicide, of exterminating monsters, throwing down the gods, of a full war against divinity. They are few. But they are desperate and well armed. Of course, other mortals in their turn wish to adapt to the new order rather than change it. Some want to restore the Empire, but an Empire shorn of its controls on the supernatural- others wish a loose network of feudal states, and so to flexibly move forward without looking backwards. Dozens of factions exist. Some are known. Some remain in the shadows until they see their time to strike. But all seethe, and scheme, and chart their own courses to what they see as a new dawn for all. Now, a year after the Empire's end, the world has settled into a worried equilibrium. The gods are worshipped, and have their feuds- but those fights haven't broken into full divine war yet. The monsters are a constant threat to travelers and caravans- but the terrible time of living carpets of feathered, scaled, and chitinous violence have abated. Magic is ascendant- but is not yet dominant. The world stands on the brink of a half-dozen destinies and a half-dozen apocalypses, spinning and wobbling, trying to find the direction in which all will tilt. This is the story of the world on the brink, and how it falls- or rises.
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Mar 14, 2012 19:39
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 A journey of a thousand miles... Sunrise. The chill of night still hung in the air, and the faint smell of fields and agriculture drifted out of the east along with the light, both combining to help wake those less familiar with the atmosphere of what was at heart still a farming town. Most of the locals had already been about their business before dawn, but the bustle of body-choked streets stayed at a dull roar as people went about their errands. Many farmers were heading to or from the market, to buy and sell their wares; the merchants that hadn't been driven out of business awaited to ferry food to towns less blessed with grain and more blessed with gold. The criminals also rose early and lurked the markets, to siphon off a coin here and a coin there from the unwary. Refugees- more and more a part of Noah's population- often wandered aimlessly, having little to do with themselves but wait and hope for work. At least construction was one business still in full bore, and employing a number of those who would otherwise go from ruined and burnt farmhouses to cloth stretched above an alleyway. Lord Roland had begun expanding the city walls- for the third time this year- to push out the boundary of protection more and try to catch up with the glut of bodies clamoring for shelter. As sun rose, those masses of humanity rose to a dull roar as even the most polite decided anyone still asleep was either a drunkard or a wastrel, and set about bawling their information to any and sundry. The city was too small for the crowds, and bodies surged along the main ways like a scant-washed tide that heaved back and forth without any obvious aim as individuals went hither and yon. Soon, the smells of food crept under the odor of refugees and cattle, tempting the last few awake who'd held out previously. Noah did not wait- and the world wouldn't either. Days ago, the Mayor had sent out invitations to several individuals, expressing his fervent wish to hire those with particular talents to his own payroll for the express purposes of helping preserve the city and its fragile civilization against all the forces that would split it apart like an unripe egg. The time and date were given for the rather loose 'midmorning'- the mayor was a busy soul, and didn't believe in precision in meetings too far in advance for fear of restricting his freedom of schedule. The clatter of hammers and tools around the outskirts of the city finally pulled the noise to its full working level, as another tower began its erection outside the refugee quarters. One good monster attack before the new walls were done, and at the very least hundreds would die without the protection of thick walls and wall-stationed archers and mages to harry foes away. That meant hurry, and hurry meant more money, and the city drowned in a thousand things it had to do... No matter. Such things weren't concerns for the vast majority of pedestrians outside. There was a restless energy in the crowd this morning, though- a kind of electricity passing from person to person as the herd grew unaccountably nervous. Not a single cloud in the sky- there hadn't been for almost a week, but that was common as summer began to slip towards fall and the harvest. Still worrying, but relief would come from the west soon enough. The pencil-thin line of black, black clouds on the horizon promised a dose of violence with the rain, but then on the plains in this season that was also only to be expected. Storms coming- and if nature was the only thing the farmers had to worry about, everyone would be a great deal happier.  As those summoned made their way towards what the locals always called the 'Palace' with a grin on their faces, the crowds didn't hardly move away from them- jostling and bumping occurred, but no more than would be normal on a street this crowded, even against the flank of the faun. People were, by and large, too busy to fear the exotic even if they noticed it, at least in so casual a setting as a cramped street. Outside the walls there were endless fields of crops and vast forests to stretch and run in, but also danger- protection, nowadays, also meant crowds. The guards at the front of the 'Palace' recognized the summoned without being reminded- the Mayor was big on keeping all his employees supplied with the knowledge they needed to do their jobs efficiently, even in the small things. The Palace itself was a modest, two-story, stone-fronted building that looked more like a prosperous moneylender's office than the seat of government for a growing city- 'Further pretension', Lord Roland had sniffed once, 'would waste our money.' Everything inside was clean, to be sure, and tidy and orderly as clerks moved from room to room bearing parchment with the calm certainty of knowing exactly what they had to do written on their faces. Everyone inside had purpose and direction- wasted effort was a fault and nearly a sin, an outlook on Lord Roland's part which did much to explain why the city managed to work despite its handicaps. The smell and din were muted inside; the crowds, for all their bemusement, wouldn't dream of intruding into their ruler's sanctum without invitation as a matter of basic respect for their protector. There was still noise- but faint, rustling noises of parchment on parchment with an undercurrent of quiet conversation as scholars and clerks discussed their daily affairs. A faint smell of mint pervaded the air, and plenty of barely-cloudy glass windows made the interior arguably more well-lit than the crowded streets below. A brown-clad functionary ushered the summoned heroes-to-be up a flight of plain granite stairs to the offices on the upper floor, and directed them to a row of thinly cushioned benches in the hallway; "Lord Roland will see you shortly, he's receiving his daily briefing on local security from the Town Watch captain." And then the small, apologetic-seeming man hurried off, leaving his charges to the bench to wait their turn at audience. Plenty of time to get more thoroughly acquainted. Welcome to the game! Feel free to post and get in character for a while; the Mayor will see you shortly enough and we'll be off on our first real adventure. For those of you new or newish to GURPS, the first combat will be a gentler one where I help walk through some of the bumpier parts of the system. Posting format is as follows: Character Name (and, if people are split up, location as well- but only if split up) In character actions and dialogue. Out of character actions, chatter, and stats- post relevant statistics in general if you want me to make a skill roll. Come combat, I'll also be asking for a combat statistics block for you to just make, keep with your sheet, and post with every action- I'll go over what I want in those come that time. With your first post, include the 'final' copy of your character sheet. Keep the copy you post updated as you gain and spend CP by editing that first post, because that is what I am going to look to when I have to reference sheets. Post as much as you can whenever you have something to say, and don't ever feel like you are crowding others out; the only rule I will enforce for posting is the 24 hour rule in combat, which is that I want combat actions posted within 24 hours of an update to keep things moving at a reasonable clip. If I don't have one, I'll assume a 'good' one and move forward, because games bogging down during fights is death on pacing! If you are going to be away for a few days, tell me in advance so I can plan around it; everyone has times they will be away, so don't be shy. Finally, remember: the two cardinal rules are "Be interesting", and "Don't be a dick". Keep those in your heart and you won't go very far wrong in this game. Recruitment Thread: http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3470266
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Mar 14, 2012 19:41
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As the would-be heroes get acquainted to one another, the normal thin traffic of the hallway moves to avoid the foreign particles in their midst; none go out of their way to offer refreshments or engaged the newest hired help in conversation. A sudden bustle and thud of chairs being pushed back from an unprepossessing and unlabeled wooden door across the hall from the barely-padded benches opens; through the door, there's just one brief glance of the Mayor dressed in simple black clothes, his back to the door and staring out his window at the oncoming storms with his hands clasped behind his back. That view is rapidly eclipsed by a large, armored, and above all unhappy looking man storming through the door with a scowl. "You're the new adventurers?" He asks, quickly picking the six people out with a glance, eyes sweeping them all with a quick nod. "Watch Captain Dirksen. I'm in charge of security. Sorry to interrupt your meeting with the Mayor, but a situation's come up and he wants you to help handle it before your meeting." As he talks, the captain- with just a trace of orcish ancestry in his veins, not halfway but perhaps a quarter of the way distant from human, slowly loses his scowl. "It's been a long morning, and now this... walk with me." Setting off back to the stairway, he doesn't check behind him to be sure his charges are following. His armor's polished, but not to a mirror sheen; it's got more than a few mostly-beaten out dents in it, marks of long usage, and with comfortable looking padding underneath the metal.  "Just before dawn, we sent up a wizard a few hundred feet to take a look around the area with a simple telescope, so we can see farther around. Land's so flat here that gets you a few extra mile's sightline." Hitting the stairs, he pauses briefly. "Report just made it up to me. There's a pair of covered wagons four miles out, looks like another load of refugees we'll have to make room for... somehow. Bad news is that he also saw plumes of dust behind them and closing, and he says it looked like a group of bandits- or someone- on horseback. He came down rather than wait to confirm. We don't have any mounted patrols in the area, so Lord Roland's commandeered one of the fast mail wagons to send a team out to intercept and escort the refugees the last few miles in. Hopefully they're not actual bandits- or if they are, they'll be smart enough not to press it. I'll send some of my men with you, but the mayor wants you to handle it mostly yourselves. I don't like gambling people's lives on a test, but-" He shrugs. "Mayor knows best. All of you have gear nearby? We can stop and get some of our arms if not, but the carriage needs to leave fast if it's going to catch up to the refugees before the bandits."
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Mar 15, 2012 05:07
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"Good to hear," Capt. Dirksen tosses behind him, forging downstairs. "Watch house is just across the way, we'll pull the mail coach out in front. Come on-" He turns abruptly, pushing through a side door and headlong into the street. There's a little brief resistance from the crowd, but as the captain's face gets recognized the crowd pulls away from him to give him respectful space and pass him through. Using the quarter-orc's bulk as an icebreaker to plow through, the six are able to make it across the way. The guardhouse is in a medium-high state of chaos, but the guardsmen all quickly stand to attention and salute their captain past; just as quickly they return to what they're doing the instant Capt. Dirksen returns their salute. The room Dirksen leads them to is cramped, but a veritable arsenal of metal in various sharp and dull forms. Mass-forged shortswords line one wall, nothing special but all kept in good repair- truncheons along another, with slightly shiny and dented breastplates and helmets on racks on a third. The room smells powerfully of polish and sweat, light coming from a single lantern hung from the ceiling and casting shadows in the buttery light. "Your gear's more safe here than anywhere in the city," the quarter-orc begins, giving Alec a head-to-toe look of calm assessment. "You can leave it here until you return- guards don't go through other guards' things, and nobody'll know it's not exactly another guard's in the time you'll be gone." Taking one of the swords for himself, Dirksen jams it into the empty scabbard at his side. "You- Lo'el, right?" Despite having only heard the barbarian's slight mispronunciation of the faun's name, Dirksen gets it right first go without a hitch. "As soon as he saw, our eye in the sky came down to sound the alarm. It's a pretty fresh sighting, but obviously we're losing minutes. GUDJOHNSEN!" He bellows suddenly, and after a few seconds a gangly redhead in ill-fitting armor skids into the doorway and salutes. "Faun needs sling stones. Don't have any in station, not usually a guard's weapon, but I seem to recall the construction sites don't have any shortage of reject stone chips that might do. Run down to the northgate and tell them to get a small basket ready, you know what size, and we'll pick it up on the way. Move out, corporal!" "Sir, yessir!" The young guard salutes again and turns on one heel, moving quickly through the hallways and out of sight. "Good kid. He'll make officer if he lives through the next year." Dirksen notes absently. "You'll have something you can use, Lo'el, but it might not be perfect. Coach out front in two minutes, I'll roust a sergeant and a detail to ride with you- meet us out front." A few hurried minutes later, a lean coach with two fast, healthy-looking horses is in fact waiting outside, sides painted in the crisp blue eagle-and-sword livery of the town. A couple watchmen are clambering aboard, with Dirksen watching with folded arms- from the notification that something had gone wrong, the entire operation had evidently been planned and executed within under five minutes without any serious bureaucratic impediments. "I'll put together a second patrol," Dirksen half-shouts over the noise, "On horseback, but it'll take a few minutes to get them ready. You'll be first on the scene, and if there's any violence you'll be on point. My men know their business, don't worry about them and they'll be helping watch your backs but they learned their business in crowds and alleys instead of plains. Round's on me for lunch if it goes well!" With that, the guard captain gives a loud, powerful thump on the thin wooden rear of the wagon, spurring the driver to take up the reins. Going is necessarily slow, though the crowds seem to be trying to give the sleek wagon as much of a berth as is physically possible in the cramped confines; as the wagon finally reaches the edge of the walls, a flushed and sweating red-headed corporal heaves a large bag of good granite stones (albeit none with an ideally sharp point) into the wagon as it passes without even slowing. A few seconds later, with the guards at the gate holding merchant traffic, and the mail coach makes it into open country- and speeds up, with the thin dust cloud of horses visible from ground level. Only now, despite the physical pace quickening, is there a minute for the people in the cart to catch their breath. A few minutes to where the carts should be, given how fast such things often went and how far the wizard had said they were. The mail coach isn't a very promising platform to fight a war; with ten people and a driver crammed inside there's bare room to maneuver, and no convenient openings to fire from save the back and over the driver's shoulder at front. Worse yet, the wooden siding was never meant as serious armor, and there's little to no protection of either the horses or the somewhat exposed driver. But it is unholy fast. Sped through a fair bit there since I didn't want much to bog down, but here's what any of you could take if you wished (all stuff from Characters) -Shortsword -Baton -Legionary Helmet -Steel Breastplate In addition, Lo'el has a bag of sling stones, but they're not very sharp at all; they'll deal 1 less damage than usual on a hit. This would be the time to do any planning!
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Mar 16, 2012 05:08
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As the mail wagon rounds one last bend, dust plumes coming ever closer, a key misinterpretation by the airborne wizard becomes abruptly clear. He hadn't seen a small group of men on horseback chasing the wagons. He'd seen a small group of centaurs. Four of which are holding longbows with swords strapped onto their back, four of which are holding two yard long spears, and all of which are clad both human and horse halves with a mixture of leather and chainmail. The two wagons have stopped in the side of the road; the centaurs have caught up to them, and put themselves in a broad circle around the pair of wagons. As the mail wagon rattles closer, and then to a stop as the driver makes some rapid calculations about the wisdom of trying to overrun a centaur with a very long spear while being unprotected out front and then throws himself flat on the floor of the cart as it drifts to a halt twelve yards in front of the first of the halted wagons. "They're here!" One of the centaurs to the rear of the pack bawls. "Remember, no bonuses for corpses, we want them alive!" "Damned centaurs." The watch sergeant mutters, not a little nervously. "Bastards have four archers. Just have to keep them from taking any prisoners before backup arrives..." OKAY IT IS COMBAT TIME HELLO HOW ARE YOU. First of all, what I want in your combat statblocks. Not gonna enforce a format, but every combat round it will make my life easier if you include: ST, DX, IQ, HT; HP (remaining/total), FP (remaining/total), Will, Per, Basic Speed, Basic Move Relevant combat advantages/disadvantages (Combat Reflexes, High Pain Threshold, One Arm, etc) Weapons: Both your base skill (I will figure all the modifiers for range and suchlike, don't worry) and the damage it should deal Armor: What's your DR for all hit locations? Active Defenses: What do you want to use and what active defenses you can use are? So, something like this: pre:Sergeant Joyner ST-12, DX-12, IQ-10, HT-11 HP 12/12, FP 11/11, Will-10, Per-11, BS-5.75, BM-5 No advantages Weapons: Shortsword-13 (readied), 1d-1 imp/1d+2 cut; Baton-14, 1d+2 cr Armor: DR 5 torso (front); DR 2 torso (rear)/groin/arms/legs/feet, DR 4 face/head Active Defenses: Parry-9 (preferred), Dodge-8 Remember: 24 hour rule is in effect, after ~8 AM pacific tomorrow I could pick an action for you and update at any time. Judge for yourself the likelihood that I'll be awake that early. If everyone is in sooner, and I can, I will update sooner and we will all be happy! CURRENT MAP (linked for huge) HERE About the current map- the light tan is planted cornfields, and will not be so easy to move through quickly and will partly block vision; gray and brown are stone road/hard-packed dirt, and both are normal open terrain. Each hex is about a yard, and you can move up to your basic move yards per turn- but if you move more than one hex and attack in a single one-second turn you'll take penalties on the attack. You can, to start with, get out either the rear or front of the mail wagon without difficulty, and the wagon will act as some cover against archers. I am going to assume everyone readied/loaded their weapons however they liked before combat started. The blue g are guards, the blue d is a terrified driver; the big red C are centaur spearmen, big red A centaur archers. Hopefully you can all figure which token is you out, given that I had to take Creative Liberties to pick images for half of you.  Initiative is in order of your basic speeds: Lo'el 6.5 Alec 6.25 Isit 6.25 Martin 6.0 Lette 6.0 Centaur Archers 1-4 6.0 Dolan 5.75 Guards 1-4 5.75 Centaur Spearmen 1-2 5.5 Don't feel constrained to post in that order, please god; Gus, you're the only one moving after an NPC, so if you wanna put in some conditionals I will heed them come the hour. If there are other questions either about this setup or GURPS combat in general, I should be around in the late afternoon/evening! edit oh yeah: Axe-man, you critted a perception roll: The driver of the lead refugee wagon is already dead, but positioned so that he looks alive to a casual glance; he has no visible wounds. Mukaikubo fucked around with this message at 15:48 on Mar 17, 2012 |
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Mar 17, 2012 15:45
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NC if you are about can you pop onto the chat? I am kind of (very) confused about exactly what you're trying to do, and I'm parsing it this way: Move and attack maneuver; Move (drop to crouch, move three hexes SW) and then spend an FP to fire the imbuement off (12 target) and fire a shot off (move and attack, so no Acc bonus from heroic archer but no bulk penalty either) at a target number of either 9 (13 skill - 5 (neck) + 1 SM) or 3 (same, but with a -6 range penalty)). Have I got it right? 
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Mar 18, 2012 04:39
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The former nobleman calls out for parlay, but the archer closest the group- after cocking his head for a second as if considering it- shakes his head. "You can parlay with the queen, buddy. Spearmen forward! Victor formation! You know the drill, fillies, let's move!" The centaurs begin to drift backward and forward, seeming to come close to forming a rough line of archers in the center with the two spearmen galloping forward and out to make a pair of exposed forward points on the flanks of the line. Standard army formation for a centaur cavalry unit. The archers start off festivities, and Lette and Isit both fire arrows from the safety and comfort of the cart at the nearest enemy archer. The elf's arrow flies just wide, thudding into the wagon's side- the human's hits dead center on the centaur's chest, but only after a lazily looping flight that took it in far too high an arc and spilled so much of its energy that it barely penetrated. Behind them, the more melee-oriented heroes pile out of the wagon to clear the field for the mage and archers; Dolan starts trying to cast, but the whinny of the horses just in front of him startles the concentration right out of his head and a half-formed spell dissipates harmlessly. The horses are whinnying for a very good reason. The centaurs lowered their arrows and let loose a volley of fire directly into the beasts responsible for the heroes coming to the "rescue" so quickly, and not incidentally the beasts that would have been responsible for carrying them away just as quickly. Three of four arrows strike deep in both of the draft horses pulling the cart, all three finding deep, deep marks in the horses' chests that draw a river of dark blood each and a loud shriek of animal agony. The horses don't take off yet- they're rearing on their hind legs and whinnying in a panic, though, and can't be far from it. "Sir! Horses on the horizon- two minutes, we have to be gone!" one of the spearmen shouts. "Surrender and this doesn't have to end in blood!" the archer whose armor just turned Lette's bolt aside calls. Not the luckiest of opening rounds. Lo'el moves and all out dodges Alec moves and all out dodges Isit performs a move and attack; crouches and moves 3 hexes SW, then spends 1 FP to trigger her Imbuement (result: 5, success) and then fires her arrow (target: 13 (skill) - 5 (targeting neck) + 1 (target SM) = 9, result: 12, miss. -1 FP Martin moves and all out defends; Diplomacy roll is working under a -5 penalty for the centaurs already being <REDACTED>, so his target is an 8; roll is 9, failure. Lette fires an arrow, all out (target: 13 (skill) - 5 (range: 13 yards) + 1 (SM) + 1 (all out attack) = 9), result: 5, HIT. Dodge attempt from A2 is (target: 8) result: 15, no dodge. Random hit location roll is a 11, torso. Damage roll is a 2, leather DR is a 2- no damage to the centaur. Lette is crouching. Centaur Archer 1 fires unaimed at Horse #1 drawing the mail wagon. Target is (<REDACTED>) 10; result is 11, miss, archer takes a step forward. Centaur Archer 2 takes a step back and fires unaimed at Horse #1. Target is again 10, roll 7 for a hit, horse fails to dodge, horse takes 8 damage... Centaur Archer 3 fires at Horse #2 and steps forward. Target is 9; hit, failed dodge, Horse #2 takes 18 damage. Still upright, but terrified and will likely bolt next turn. Centaur Archer 4 move-and-attacks at Horse #1, target is 8; hit and failed dodge, Horse #1 takes another 16 damage. Somehow it stays upright and conscious, but will for drat sure bolt wildly and probably pass out very soon. Dolan attempts to cast Stone Missile and rolls a 15; fails. Guard 1 dives out of the soon to be uncontrolled cart and doesn't get in front of it! Guards 2-4 repeat this! Centaur Spearman 1 and 2 reposition themselves! Driver cowers in utter terror! Horses get over their utter shock at turning into equine pincushions and rear in terror! Map Here! Turn order remains the same as last time. I won't be doing full breakdowns with targets and modifiers every time, but I figured it might help the new people a little.
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Mar 18, 2012 05:33
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The archers continue slowly trotting forward, quickly and as a practiced unit drawing arrows and nocking them in their bows, readying them to take aim again- "Heh." One spearman looks Alec up and down, then trots a little closer with his spear in a ready position. "Barbarians. Fought you bastards for years. Not about to give one of you one of those duels you're always prattling about now. C'mon, it's a hassle like hell to try to knock armed people out without killing 'em." Somewhat heartened by the failure of everything to end immediately, two of the disembarked guards move forward with shortswords ready, taking up flanking positions to either side and slightly behind Alec- a charge would be a messy affair for all concerned at this point. Martin's barb, however, seems to land in softer flesh. "Donkey?" The spearman sputters. "You little basta-" "Hold it together, Glen, he's just trying to get under your hide-" one of the archers warns. "-Fuckin' donkey, little pissant with your little loving knife?" The spearman is locked onto Martin, raising his spear and sighting down the bore but the lashing of his tail gives notice about just how angry he is at the comparison. "I've ridden down hundreds of you pukes, here, frontier, anywhere. You know what's going to happen to you when we bring you in? You-" "GLEN!" The centaur snarls- the expected charge delayed by perhaps only a second, but the centaur held in place for the archers to have one more good shot on him at that. Back in the cart, Lette doesn't choose the easier path of fleeing, nor the harder path of dragging the near-catatonic civilian driver to safety with her. The horses need to be saved. They need to keep the cart intact. This isn't the way her first fight should go. She's not going to let the others down... she prods the driver, and her voice holds a snap of command Lette's never heard before. There's cold iron down in the base of her throat, and the driver spasms before rising, pale and sweaty, to his knees. Seemingly confused about what he's actually doing, he takes the reins back into his hands, blinking rapidly. Lette's already turned her attention to the horses, laying a hand on one's flank and talking in quiet, soft words; this too seems to have a note of cloudy gentleness she's never been able to put in her voice before, and a faint sensation of static fills the cart. The horses... they fall down onto all four hooves from their rear, ears twitching madly. And then they execute a picture perfect turn, bringing the cart around so that the bulk of it is between them and the archers. They leave a trail of blood, and one horse sways worryingly halfway through the turn, but neither one collapses from their wounds. Instead, they stand there, still and shuddering. Lo'el moves and all out dodges Alec moves, all out dodges, and makes a challenge; I'll treat it as a reaction roll with a -2 from the stigma and -1 for an inappropriate situation; result modified is 5, which is "Bad". Centaur does not rise to the bait Isit crouch-walks out of the wagon. Martin moves and all out dodges. Rapier wit, Martin's roll is a a 10 (beats target by 3); Centaur C1 beats target by 1. C1 is Stunned. Lette tries to get things to go better; Ruling the attempt to prod the driver into action as a Diplomacy-10 roll (9, success); Animal handling target is 7, roll is 7, success; Teamster default is 10, roll is 8, success. Very good chain of circumstances; horses will move as desired on their turn. Centaur Archers 1-4 reload; fast-draw arrow rolls are all successful and they are ready to fire next turn. Dolan moves out of the cart. The guards move forward, taking up position as best they can near the heroes. Spearman 1 is stunned and does nothing. IQ roll to shake off the mental stun is a 10; success. Spearman 2 trots forward! The horses turn the carriage onto the side of the road and around; Horse #1 stays conscious. New Map: HERE
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Mar 18, 2012 21:03
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Lette rolls out of the cart, the pacified horses trotting with dazed serenity as the driver urges them onward. Though they continue leaving twin trails of blood, the wagon moves steadily onward away from the ambush, making for the safety of a bend in the road some ways away. Lette, when she rises to her feet, finds that only her head and chest rise over the cornfields with the rest of her blocked from view. The thick waves of corn hinder movement, but also provide no small shelter for her to ready her next gambit- and give her a good view of the rest of the fight. Martin decides to goad a spearman into action, and charges north to try to pull the centaur after him. The spearman obliges, but stays a good ten feet from the swordsman; a powerful stab downwards at Martin's thigh meets only air as the duelist spins away gracefully, spear biting into cloak rather than flesh. The fabric at his hem catches the spearpoint and holds, tug threatening to unbalance Martin- instead it is the centaur who is unbalanced, almost pulling the weapon from his hands. At the least, his grip is now obviously unsuitable to fight with, and with such an unwieldy weapon it'll take him a second to get back to a fighting stance. Alas, Martin's evasion took him far enough away that it would be difficult to capitalize himself. Ignoring the byplay up north, Isit nocks another arrow, enchants it, and lets fly. It is, sadly, another miss, a good ten feet behind the centaur. The enchantment, however, takes care of that nicely. The arrow explodes into a small cloud of razor-sharp wood shards on hitting the ground, and a few tear through the lighter hind armor and slice into the archer's hindquarters. He lets out a surprised yelp, but doesn't seem to waver even though blood drips down his side; rather, all four archers pull their strings back, taking careful aim on the group of adventurers- Lo'el's entreaty for peace going scornfully unheeded. Alec decides that this would be a great time to rejoin everyone else and not be exposed on his own. His guards follow, and soon prove the wisdom of not being caught out alone, for one of the guards is slower than the barbarian and falls a few yards behind. Seeing his chance, the other spearman charges in, and with a single vicious thrust slams his spearpoint home through armor, through flesh, armor again, and to the ground as he ruins the man's calf. The centaur pulls his spear back with a splatter of blood, already on his guard for retaliation, and unheeded the guard crumples to the ground with a shriek of pain clutching his ruined lower leg and dropping his sword unheeded to the ground. Map is HERE Lo'el moves and all out dodges. Diplomacy attempt fails (barely). Alec moves. Isit attempts to imbue an arrow with Shattershot-12; Roll is 5, success. She fires the arrow at A2 (13 (skill) + 3 (aim from heroic archer) - 6 (Range: 19 yards) = 10) roll is 13, miss by 3 hexes to the north, only A2 is in range of fragmentation damage. Frag roll is (15-1(range)=14), roll is 9, hit; Centaur dodge roll is 12, no dodge. Centaur A2 takes <REDACTED> cutting damage. Isit loses 1 FP. Martin moves. Lette moves NW into the cornfields; this counts as treacherous ground and will halve her movement while she's inside it, though she has partial but light cover. Arrow is readied. All Centaur archers take aim; it's difficult to tell who's being aimed at. Dolan moves. The guards move. Spearman 1 takes a step back and stabs at Martin's legs. (Target: 14 - 2 (targeted: legs) = 12), roll is 12, hit. Martin's dodge attempt is at 15 (10+3(retreating)+2(cloak)); roll is a ***3***!!! The spearman rolls on the critical miss table due to having a crit on a defense roll against a melee attack, and rolls a (modified) 12; the weapon turns in his hand and becomes Unready! Spearman 2 move-and-attacks the hindmost Guard; target is (14 - 4 (move and attack) - 2 (target: leg) = 8), roll is ***4***!!! Critical hit, no dodge possible. Roll on the critical hit table is a 12; normal damage but guard drops everything. 6 penetrating damage to the guard's left leg, which is CRIPPLED- Guard falls down and drops his sword. The wagon leaves the map. Guard #4 is Crippled and Prone Centaur A2 is wounded Centaur C1's spear is unready Alec: They're all aiming at you. Dolan: They've all picked different targets; Isit, Alec, Martin, and you. Lette: It's hard to see, but you're pretty sure they're not aiming at you. Others: You can't tell where they're aiming at specifically, but they're all aiming low.
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Mar 19, 2012 15:33
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The tide of adventurers surges forward, trying to bear down the centaur with a mass of flailing, weaker attacks. The spearman in question doesn't bother trying to get his spear ready to defend himself, but dances and pivots like a quadrupedal dancer to avoid a seemingly endless series of blows. One particularly fierce thrust, right at where the lung should be, is met with the spearman actually jumping two feet to the side in a standing clattering leap; so powerful was his thrust that Martin almost falls on his face when the tip of his sword meets air instead of flesh, but he manages not to fall. Isit fires an arrow, and Lette prepares to; but the elf's arrow misses again, her aim perhaps thrown off by being unfamiliar with how to properly lead such a large and oddly-shaped target. Seeing that the farm girl is not obviously doing anything threatening, and that the other centaurs are holding their own against the others, the other spearman leaves the guard to bleed in peace and begins a thundering, looping charge around the swarm of guards that tries to halt him- though for a frightening second he appears willing to run down Isit and impale her on his spear, he instead comes to an abrupt halt a few yards away and lashes out at her leg as he had just the guard's. This time, however, his aim is askew, and the spearhead thuds hard into the loose stone of the road. And then the archers let fly. Every one of them targeting a different person- with one of the archers edging just to one side to get a better view- and every one of them aiming for the lower legs. Two arrows clatter off the ground harmlessly, missing Alec and Isit easily, but the other two bite hard. Martin- who still remains standing- and the dwarf feel a flare of pain as arrowheads plunge into their legs. Both of them can still move and support weight, but the pain is severe and the wounds already starting to bleed. "Reeee-load!" the hindmost archer bellows. Lo'el 6.5 Alec 6.25 Isit 6.25 Martin 6.0 (7/12 HP) Lette 6.0 Centaur Archers 1-4 6.0 (A2: injured, unready) Dolan 5.75 (6/10 HP) Guards 1-4 5.75 (Guard 4: 5/11 HP, crippled, prone, unarmed) Centaur Spearmen 1-2 5.5 Lo'el moves and attacks with a target of 9: Roll is 10, miss. Alec moves and attacks, also with a target of 9: Roll is 16, miss. Isit draws and fires at A2; Target is (13 + 3 (Aim) - 6 (Range) + 1 (SM)) = 11) roll is 14, miss. Martin moves as specified and takes an all out attack with a target of (16 + 1 (SM) + 4(AoA) - 3 (Vitals) = 18), roll is 13; FP spent for extra effort. Centaur spends a FP on feverish dodge and rolls a 4, CRITICAL SUCCESS. Roll for Martin is a 13; -2 to active defenses until next turn (lost balance), but that doesn't really matter for him does it? Lette readies an arrow and steps (You can still step 1 hex in treacherous terrain.) Centaur Archers WAIT. Dolan moves and attacks; Target is (14 - 4 (Move and attack) + 1 (SM) - 4 (Targeting hand) = 7); roll is 12, miss Guard #3 moves to interpose self between the downed guard and the centaur, and move-and-attacks at a target of 9; roll is 13, miss. The other guards rush towards their downed comrade. Guard #4 rolls to shake off stun, result is 6- Guard is combat-capable, more or less. Centaur Spearman #1 retreats. Centaur Spearman #2 moves around and does a move and atack on Isit, targeting the bow arm; Target is 8, roll is 11, miss. Centaur Archers' waits deactivate! (Trigger: Spearman 1 getting out of the line of fire) Centaur Archer #1 steps north and fires at Martin (Target: 11); Roll is 11, hit! No dodge possible! 5 HP damage to Martin- just one shy of crippling the leg! No shock, no stun. Centaur Archer #2 fires at Alec's leg (Target: 10); roll is 13, miss Centaur Archer #3 fires at Isit's bow arm (Target: 9); roll is 13, miss Centaur Archer #4 fires at Dolan's leg (Target: 10); roll is 10. Dodge roll is 15, miss; Dolan takes 4 HP damage to a leg, two shy of crippling the leg. Map: HERE
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Mar 20, 2012 02:30
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Still, the heroes charge onward- and this time, not even the inhumanly graceful dance of the centaur can avoid everyone's spears. Both Lo'el and Alec stick their spears into the sides of the 'monster' as it fends off Martin's assault, and both- though the barbarian far more than the faun- are rewarded with entirely human bit-off shrieks of pain and a spurt of blood. The centaur spearman retreats, getting to the rear of the fight and putting the archers between himself and his tormentors- those three archers, as one, drop their bows and draw wickedly sharp looking swords. "This isn't going particularly well- we don't have time to play the waiting game. Move in, cripple one, and drag him off and we'll have done our jobs- we've already got half of what we need!" the hindmost archer (apparently what passes for a leader, among the bandits) calls out. The lone archer left to the side of the wagons calmly draws and nocks another arrow, not feeling particular need to resort to close combat just yet. Isit draws her sword, and readies herself to receive another blow from the soldier... but the centaur runs around the elf, building up a head of steam and aiming squarely at the farm girl half-concealed by the corn. Lette releases and arrow, but it only scores a glancing blow on the hind hoof, and just like that the centaur is on her. The bloody spear is held out to one side; instead of that lethal blow, the centaur lowers his shoulder and slams squarely into Lette's chest with incredible force. No ribs feel like they break, but only because the borrowed chestplate dents considerably to spare its wearer the worst of the blow. The raw force, however, is enough to send Lette flying in the air several feet before landing in a heap deeper in the cornfield. Once more, Dolan attempts to bring the stones into being to fling them at his enemies. Unfortunately, they come into being above his head, and fall on it. ROUND FIVE Lo'el runs in and all out attacks C1 (target: 13 + 4 (AoA) + 1 (SM) = 18), roll is 11, hit. Centaur's dodge roll is a 9, fail. Some damage penetrates. Alec runs in and also all out attacks C1 (target: 14 + 4 (AoA) + 1 (SM) - 3 (Vitals) = 16), roll is 9, hit; Centaur's dodge roll is a 14, fail. Significant damage penetrates. Isit drops her bow, pulls her sword, and gets ready to defend. Martin move and attacks (note: CANNOT retreat after a move-and-attack), target is 9: roll is 12, miss Lette all out fires her arrow at C2, target 11; roll is 10, hit. Dodge roll is a 9, fail. Hits, but no damage penetrates. Centaur Archer 1 drops its bow and pulls a sword, as do Archers 3 and 4. Centaur Archer 2 fast draws an arrow and loads it. Dolan burns FP and begins casting. The roll is 18. He burns 2 FP, the spell fails, and he takes 1 HP of damage for his trouble. Guards move, and the prone one lays still; Guard #2 move and attacks C2, target is 9- roll is 8, hit. Dodge is 14, miss; some damage penetrates. Centaur Spearman 1 retreats. Centaur Spearman 2 CHARGES Lette. Target is 13, roll is 11. No dodge is possible. Centaur does 9 (5 soaked by armor) crushing damage and takes 2 crushing damage (all soaked by armor); Lette flies one hex and falls down automatically, and is prone with 4 HP damage penetrating. Lo'el 6.5 Alec 6.25 Isit 6.25 Martin 6.0 (7/12 HP) Lette 6.0 (7/11 HP, prone, Shock (-4)) Centaur Archers 1-4 6.0 (A2: injured) Dolan 5.75 (5/10 HP) Guards 1-4 5.75 (Guard 4: 5/11 HP, crippled, prone, unarmed) Centaur Spearmen 1-2 5.5 (C1: seriously injured, C2: injured) Map: HERE Mukaikubo fucked around with this message at 05:27 on Mar 20, 2012 |
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Mar 20, 2012 05:10
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The now sword-bearing archers move up in a line, taking the worst that the heroes can give; Lo'el's wild spear thrust just misses his target, but in so dodging the soldier moves right into Martin's blade. A wild swing of his sword misses Martin's thrust, and the swordsman feels his blade go in several inches before pulling out soaked with blood, and the centaur bellows in pain. Hearing his comrade's pain, one of the other centaurs charges in heedless of the danger and wildly chops at the faun's arm (apparently not caring to go for the legs when one of their own is in mortal danger); the faun's attempt to spring out of the way fails, and the blade cuts all the way down to the bone before releasing. That arm will be useless until a very good healer gets to look at it; it can't even hold up its half of the spear, anymore. "Stop loving around!" The leader-archer calls, trotting to the other side of his injured comrade and holding his blade up to Martin in a ready position. "Grab one of those ones you're dicking around with and let's get out of here, Andrius!" "A bit busy-" the centaur well behind much of the fighting manages as both Isit and one of the guards mob him. Both swords flash out, boring through the lighter leather armor on his horse flank. Neither strike is as decisive as they'd like, but the blood seeping from the wounds provides ample reassurance that their blows are starting to tell. "GET OFF OF ME!" The afflicted centaur roars, craning his neck away from Lette to look at his tormentors. Acting on pure instinct, he bunches the muscles in his hindquarters and kicks behind him at the elf. His hoof, appallingly, catches Isit right under the chin with the force of a roundhouse punch; mercifully, she can still breathe as she staggers a step backwards, but not very well and the wooziness from the pain starts to cloud her mind. NC wins the Bad Luck competition for the fight. Lo'el moves and attacks, target is 9; roll is 11, miss Alec moves and readies his buckler. Isit all out attacks C2; Target is 14 (13 + 4(AOA) - 3 (Vitals) + 1 (SM) = 15); roll is 9, hit. Centaur dodges, roll is 10- no dodge. Some damage penetrates. Martin steps and thrusts; Target is (16 - 4 (Deceptive)+ 1 (SM) = 13), roll is 8. Centaur A1 attempts to parry with a -2 penalty, roll is 8; fail. Significant damage penetrates. Centaur avoids stun. Lette rises to her knees. Centaur A1 slashes at Lo'el's right arm; Target is 10, roll is 12, miss. A1 retreats one step. Centaur A2 aims. Nobody can quite tell who he's aiming at. Centaur A3 all out attacks Lo'el's right arm. Taret is 14, roll is 10, success. Lo'el's dodge is 11, failure; 7 damage to Lo'el's right arm, which is crippled. No stun. Lo'el is in Shock (-4) Centaur A4 repositions. Dolan begins to cast, roll is 11: success. Guard 1 move-and-attacks Centaur C2; Target is 9, roll is 8, success. Centaur's dodge roll is 14, no dodge. Some damage penetrates. Guards 2 and 3 take up position defending Guard 4. Guard 4 picks up his sword. Centaur C1 readies his spear and steps. Centaur C2 kicks Isit in a random hit location. Target is 11, roll is 6, hit. No dodge possible. Hit location roll is ... [10:19] <Mukbot> Lunchkaikubo, 3d6: 18 [3d6=6,6,6] Hit location is the neck. 9 damage. Isit is in Shock (-4). HT roll is 12, success; no stun. Lo'el 6.5 (5/12 HP, Shock (-4), 1 crippled arm) Alec 6.25 Isit 6.25 (3/12 HP, Shock (-4)) Martin 6.0 (7/12 HP) Lette 6.0 (7/11 HP, kneeling) Centaur Archers 1-4 6.0 (A1: seriously injured, A2: injured) Dolan 5.75 (6/10 HP) Guards 1-4 5.75 (Guard 4: 5/11 HP, crippled, prone, unarmed) Centaur Spearmen 1-2 5.5 (C1: seriously injured, C2: injured) New Map: Here
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Mar 20, 2012 18:34
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Martin's barb seems to sink home for a second, as the centaur turns and stares him in the face, cheeks reddening slightly. Then, the centaur asks, in a very unpleasant voice, "Sir... our orders... we can say one of them died on accident, can't we? As long as we bring back a prisoner or three for our troubles? Maybe even not mention anything about casualties." The leader snorts, shaking his head back and forth, and then finally says, "I'll... look the other way. GO!" And then all three of the former archers rush forward- even the injured one- and mob Lo'el, Alec, and Martin with sweeping slices no longer at leg level, but going for arm and torso wounds; not the neck yet, but much closer to where death could result as an 'accident'. Lo'el barely avoids the leader's blade at stomach-height, whizzing past and through with lethal intent; Martin too manages to avoid the wild slash, ducking under it and ramming his sword home again into the centaur's abdomen. It teeters, gritting its teeth and grunting weakly, but the centaur doesn't fall yet; the blood pooling around its hooves is getting larger rapidly, though. Alec, however... stepping towards the oncoming centaur, he gets his spear stuck into the horse-side of the torso facing him. It's a wound. Not as much as he'd like, but he's hurt the centaur. And then the return stroke slams into his spear arm just south of the shoulder, and hits so hard Alec can feel the bone break along with the pain of flesh ripping under the blade's edge. The spear drops from his suddenly nerveless hands. Magic is afoot, promising to come to the rescue as Dolan builds a swarm of stones in the air ready to launch as heavy artillery into the centaurs' flanks. But then the last archer, having finished aiming at Dolan, lets fly his arrow. It's not a wonderful shot. It hits him in the lower torso, a few inches north of the waist and almost far enough to one side to bounce off his armor... but it's got enough force to penetrate armor and stick into his side. It's not a huge wound... but the sudden additional flare of pain, the ache in his head from the stone falling on it, it combines and Dolan can feel with a sickening lurch his concentration slip and fail. And then the swarm of stones blasts into his front, knocking him almost over and almost unconscious- but still upright even if bleeding heavily. "Sir!" The wounded centaur calls, slightly more faintly. "I'm hit, sir. Do we pursue?" The spearman comes up behind the other wounded centaur, holding his readied spear in one hand and ready to defend his compatriot. "We can still win this, sir-" "But can we do it without getting any of you killed?" The leader shoots Lo'el opposite from him a scornful look, and adds, "Or you, come to that... Grab a hostage, I'll keep their fighters busy! Wounded to the rear, on the trot!" Hearing this, the southerly centaur nods almost in a horridly friendly way at Isit, "That's my cue. Excuse me-" And then he's gone, sprinting around and past the elf towards the guards. As he goes, the boldest of the guards manages to bring his shortsword down in an overhead smash trying to cut the centaur's spine- it's a valiant effort, but though the blade cuts deep through armor the centaur keeps moving towards his already downed foe. He lashes out, trying to impale another calf, but just misses. Lo'el moves and begins all out defends. Alec waits. Isit stays in place and all out defends. Martin waits; Rapier Wit is against an 11 (13 - 2 (Repeated in one battle)); roll is 18, critical failure. Centaur A3 acquires Bloodlust! Centaur A3 calls on other centaurs to stop playing softball and go for the real shots! Lette pulls her spear and moves to standing. Centaur A1 All out-attacks Martin with a -4/-2 deceptive attack, targeting the arm! Target is 12, roll is 6, hit. Martin's dodge roll with feverish and retreating and with the deception is 13, roll is 11, success Martin counterattacks- roll is against 13, roll is 12, hit. No dodge possible. Some damage penetrates. Centaur A2 steps and fires at Dolan's torso, target 11; roll is 11. Dodge attempt is against a target of 12 (with feverish defense), roll is 15, dodge fails! 2 penetrating damage to Dolan. (Will-3) roll to continue enlarging missile is a 7, success! Will roll to not get hit with his own missile is a 15, fail! Dolan is hit for 6 crushing damage. HT roll against stun, success. HT roll to remain conscious, success. Centaur A3 all out attacks Alec, targeting spear arm, -4/-2 deceptive attack. Target is 11, roll is 4, critical success. Double normal shock (HPT, none). 12 damage penetrates, one shy of what would sever the arm. Excess damage over crippling is lost; arm is crippled, 6 damage penetrates. Alec's counterattack goes in, target is 14 and roll is 11, hit. No dodge possible. Some damage penetrates. Centaur A4 all out attacks Lo'el's torso, -4/-2 deceptive attack. Target is 11, roll is 8. Lo'el's dodge roll is an 8, success. Guard 1 all out attacks C2 (target: 17), roll is 8 for a hit; C2's dodge roll is a 15, fail. Significant damage penetrates! Guards 2 and 3 ready attacks and wait! Guard 4 does nothing! Centaur C1 moves forward! Centaur C2 move and attacks Guard 2, targeting the leg again. Target is 9, roll is 12, miss. Lo'el 6.5 (5/12 HP) Alec 6.25 (6/12 HP, crippled spear arm) Isit 6.25 (3/12 HP) Martin 6.0 (7/12 HP) Lette 6.0 (7/11 HP) Centaur Archers 1-4 6.0 (A1: seriously injured, A2: injured, A3: injured) Dolan 5.75 (-2/10 HP, Shock(4)) Guards 1-4 5.75 (Guard 4: 5/11 HP, crippled, prone) Centaur Spearmen 1-2 5.5 (C1: seriously injured, C2: injured) Map is here: HERE
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Mar 21, 2012 03:17
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Spurred into fresh attacks by the centaurs' declaration of intent, the three upright fighters push forward and try to subdue the leader of their attackers. Alec's shield thuds repeatedly against the centaur's armored shoulder, who more or less ignores it; The faun and Martin find better luck, blades again wounding the last uninjured centaur. The faun's spear barely pushes through the leather, but Martin scores another hit that he knows has to be telling; fresh red blood colors the stone, but the thrice-damned centaur stays upright... but they all begin to retreat. Not without passing attacks as they trot backwards (itself a remarkable display of agility from healthy equines, let alone wounded ones). They seem, perhaps because of the repeated insults, to be focusing on Martin; only one blade strikes near him, with just a desperate sweep turning a centaur's blade from his good leg, but the unheeded spearman quickly jabs into Martin's thigh before backing off. The wound is, again, painful- but again, the man can stay upright and walk, albeit slowed. Further south, as Lette, Isit, and one of the guards rush to his aid, Dolan tries one last time to form a spell to punish the centaurs for their attack. The pain is too great- the distance too far- and the runes don't form. Instead, the dwarf feels his mind shutting down at last from his injuries, blacking out before he hits the ground. The other two centaurs, meanwhile, charge towards the downed guard and his two sentinel comrades. The archer, not deigning to draw a blade, lowers shoulder and plows into one- unlike with Lette, he only strikes a glancing blow, though it's enough to knock the guard flat on his back (though he begins struggling to his knees immediately). The last guard fearlessly steps towards the wounded spearman centaur, and brings his shortsword around in a long arc... that speaks just a few inches short of the centaur's neck. "Bugger THAT-" the spearman shouts, and reflexively slams his spear home not into the guard's leg, but his lung. It pushes through breastplate and armor and flesh, though not a mortal through-and-through wound; still, when the centaur pulls out his weapon, the guard crumples in a boneless heap. "Scouts! We are LEAVING, get your package and get to galloping!" The leader calls... but in a much weaker voice. Lo'el stabs, with a target of 14 (13(skill) + 1 (SM)), roll is 12, hit; no dodge possible. Some damage penetrates Alec steps and attacks, with a target of 15: roll is 11, hit, and no dodge possible. No damage penetrates. Isit moves as fast as her crippled elf legs can take her towards Dolan. Martin attacks at a target of 13; roll is 7 for a hit, no dodge possible. Significant damage penetrates. Centaur passes HT check against stun. Lette follows Isit. A1 performs a move and attack on Martin, moving after the attack; targeting Martin's leg with a slash. Target is 9, roll is 6, hit; Martin cannot do a retreating parry since he already stepped this turn, so his roll is against 13; roll is 13, barely pass. A2 drops his bow and charges Guard #2. Target is 13, roll is 8; dodge roll for the guard is 9, barely fails. Centaur takes no damage after armor. Guard #3 takes 2 penetrating damage, but falls prone. A3 move-and-attacks Alec's leg, roll is against 9; roll is 13, fails. A4 move-and-attacks Martin, going for the torso and a -2/-1 deceptive attack; target is 9, roll is 13, also a miss. Dolan attempts to cast Rain of Stones. Target is (13 (skill) - 3 (range) - 4 (Shock) = 6); roll is 11, failure. HT roll against unconsciousness is a 12; Dolan passes out. Guard 1 moves. Guard 2 rises to kneeling. Guard 3 steps and all out attacks Centaur C2, going for the neck. Target is 11, roll is 12, miss. Guard 4 does nothing. Centaur C1 move and attacks Martin before leaving, aiming for the leg with a -4/-2 deceptive attack; target is 9, roll is 9, hit. Martin will attempt to feverish dodge, with the -2 from defensive attack his target is 10; roll is 12, no dodge. Centaur C1 deals 4 penetrating damage to Martin's "good" leg, still just not crippling him but taking him under the 1/3 HP threshold. HT roll to not pass out succeeds. Centaur C2 attacks Guard 3, thrusting into vitals. Target is 11, roll is 8. No dodge possible. 2 damage penetrates armor, x3 for impaling to vitals becomes 6 HP damage. Guard fails HT roll against stun. Guard is prone. Lo'el 6.5 (5/12 HP) Alec 6.25 (6/12 HP, crippled arm) Isit 6.25 (3/12 HP) Martin 6.0 (3/12 HP) Lette 6.0 (7/11 HP) Centaur Archers 1-4 6.0 (A1: Seriously injured, A2: Injured, A3: Injured, A4: Seriously injured) Dolan 5.75 (-2/10 HP, Unconscious) Guards 1-4 5.75 (Guard 2: 9/11 HP, kneeling; Guard 3: 5/11 HP, stunned, prone; Guard 4: 5/11 HP, crippled, prone, unarmed) Centaur Spearmen 1-2 5.5 (C1: Seriously injured, C2: Injured) Map is here: Here
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Mar 21, 2012 05:01
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The pace of the combat in the north starts to slow, as many turn to defend either Dolan or the fallen guard; only Alec soldiers on, driving further north to try to bring down one of the centaurs to make the fight not a total shaming. His sword flashes out, but the healthiest of the four northern centaurs shifts his weight and leans out of the way of the strike. His return blow misses, though it occupies his attention enough that one of the wounded centaurs slashing at his side gets through his defenses. A long, clean cut hacks through under Alec's arm and down to his navel, spilling copious amounts of blood; the barbarian can feel his consciousness trying to drain away almost as soon as the blow lands, but only the one centaur stands nearby. Further south, the two other centaurs occupy themselves with trying to clear up the opposition against them so they can abscond with a prisoner; the crippled guard in question weakly tries to stab into the soft underbelly of one of his tormentors but can't coordinate his blow enough to land. Lette charges in, though her blow goes wild; in response, the spearman lashes out at the farm girl. His blow lands, though in truth it's a weak enough blow to only barely penetrate armor. It hurts- but nowhere near as much as being thrown two yards onto her back hurt. The other remaining, still-unarmed archer moves to the side and begins stomping on the kneeling card, quickly forcing him back down to a prone and harmless position via a rather brutal trampling. ROUND 9 Lo'el moves. Alec fast draws his sword; roll is 8, sword drawn. Attack roll is against 9; roll is 7 for a hit. Dodge roll is a 7- pass. Isit moves. Martin moves. Lette move and attacks, target is 8; roll is 10, fail. A1 moves. A2 steps and tramples guard 2. Roll is against 12, and is a 9; hit. Dodge roll by guard 2 is a 10, failed dodge. Guard 2 takes 7 crushing damage from trampling. Roll against stun passes. A3 steps and attacks Alec, random hit location. Target is 13, roll is 11, hit. Alec's acrobatics roll is a 13, baaaarely succeeding, so his dodge roll is also against 13; roll is 13, baaaarely succeeds, Alec loses 1 FP. A4 move and attacks away from Alec, -4/-2 deceptive attack, random location. Target is 9, roll is 9, success; Acrobatics roll is 12, success, and dodge roll is 15, fail. Hit location is torso. 10 damage, 4 soaked by armor, x1.5 cutting mod, 9 damage to Alec. Alec is now in negative HP. Stun roll succeeds, no stun. HT roll is 8, consciousness roll passed. Dolan sleeps. Guard 1 move and attacks Centaur A2; target is 9, roll is 11, miss. Guard 2 crawls a hex out from under the centaur. Guard 3 is prone and stunned. HT roll is 13. Guard is still stunned. Guard 4 weakly attacks to cut at Centaur A2's underbelly. Target is (12 (skill) + 1 (SM) - 4 (prone) = 9); roll is 10, fail. C1 moves. C2 steps backward and tries to spear Lette's leg. Target is 12, roll is 8, success. Lette's dodge roll is against 11 (9+2(feverish)), roll is 12, no dodge. Lette takes 1 penetrating damage to her legs. Lo'el 6.5 (5/12 HP) Alec 6.25 (-3/12 HP, crippled arm) Isit 6.25 (3/12 HP) Martin 6.0 (3/12 HP) Lette 6.0 (6/11 HP, Shock (1)) Centaur Archers 1-4 6.0 (A1: seriously injured, A2: injured, A3: injured, A4: seriously injured) Dolan 5.75 (-2/10 HP, Unconscious) Guards 1-4 5.75 (Guard 2: 2/11 HP, prone, Shock (4); Guard 3: 5/11 HP, stunned, prone; Guard 4: 5/11 HP, crippled, prone, unarmed) Centaur Spearmen 1-2 5.5 (C1: seriously injured, C2: injured) New Map: Here
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Mar 22, 2012 02:42
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The fighting seems to be drawing to a halt in the north more from mutual exhaustion than any clear will to come to terms or accept a stalemate. Though Martin hobbles towards the fight, and three of the centaurs warily keep their distance while remaining close enough to intervene in any show of weakness, the real brawl is only between one of the archers and a copiously bleeding Alec. Both attack with their swords- both meet only air, their opponents able to pull fragile and already-mauled bodies out of the way of still further bloodshed by narrow margins. The effort pulls a muscle in Alec's side, and the additional flare of pain almost, almost topples him... but he remains standing, albeit without any enemies in easy reach of his blood-slicked blade. Further south, Lette and Isit make their way to the rescue of the Noah guards sent to accompany them. One of said guards- the last uninjured on the field- tries a daring move to circle around and hem in the last still unarmed archer, and for his troubles he earns a kick from the hoof Isit's learned to respect. This blow, however, falls on his armored chest and not his squishy neck, so he still manages to finish his end run and hack away at it's back... but the pain and disorientation lead him to miss. Lette and the spearman trade blows as best they are able (increasingly little with as hurt as all standing or laying on the field are, now); Lette's blow punches again through air, but successfully drives the enemy soldier back a yard and drains his return stroke of any strength. The spearpoint taps Lette's leg, just over the last wound, but lacks the strength to pierce armor. The centaurs are, at least, no longer immediately threatening the crippled guard, as he begins painfully crawling towards Isit and away from the enemy. Lo'el stands still. Alec attacks, target is 15 (+1 for SM), roll is 6, success; Centaur's dodge roll is a 7, also a success. HT roll is an 11, barely succeeds. Isit successfully imbues Lette's weapon. Martin hobbles. Lette attacks against a target of 14 (+1 for SM), roll is a 15; miss. A1 and A2 wait for A3's action. A3 slashes at Alec, random hit location, move and attack, -4/-2 deceptive attack. Target is 9, roll is 10, miss. A1 steps backward. A2 kicks Guard #1, random hit location. Roll is against 13 and is a 13, hit; dodge roll for guard is 12, no dodge. Hit location is 10, torso- guard takes 4 crushing damage to the torso. A2 steps back. A4 remains in place, waiting. Dolan sleeps. Guard 1 tries to move and attack A2, target is a 5, roll is a 6; miss. Guard 2 rises to a kneel. Guard 3 rolls against HT, rolls a 14; still stunned. Guard 4 crawls a hex towards Isit. C1 takes a step back. C2 stabs at Lette, aiming as always for the legs; target is 11, roll is 11, success. Parry roll is 14, fail. Damage is 3- no damage penetrates. C2 steps back. Lo'el 6.5 (5/12 HP) Alec 6.25 (-3/12 HP, crippled arm) Isit 6.25 (3/12 HP) Martin 6.0 (3/12 HP) Lette 6.0 (6/11 HP, Shock (1)) Centaur Archers 1-4 6.0 (A1: seriously injured, A2: injured, A3: injured, A4: seriously injured) Dolan 5.75 (-2/10 HP, Unconscious) Guards 1-4 5.75 (Guard 1: 7/11 HP; Guard 2: 2/11 HP, kneel; Guard 3: 5/11 HP, stunned, prone; Guard 4: 5/11 HP, crippled, prone, unarmed) Centaur Spearmen 1-2 5.5 (C1: seriously injured, C2: injured) New Map: Here Mukaikubo fucked around with this message at 02:23 on Mar 23, 2012 |
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Mar 23, 2012 01:39
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Fighting continues to peter off; the wounded centaurs in the north keep their distance, eying Martin and Alec warily, while the healthiest of the northern archers breaks off and sprints towards the gap between wagons- doubtless heading to support the two already down there fighting with guards and the women. Little occurs of note down there, either- a swift kick at a guard's groin just misses (and makes every male who sees it's eyes water just for an instant at the unleasant possibilities) and the spearman manages another perfect blow on the last upright guard's heart- but again, so weakly as to be turned by chain and armor. Lette attacks, and Isit moves forward; despite the fact that one of the wounded guards abruptly collapses in a heap, this is sufficient to drive back their foes another yard away from anyone in immediate danger of abduction. Lo'el stands still, and attempts diplomacy at a target of (14 (skill) - 5 (<REDACTED>) = 9); Roll is 11, failure. Alec moves, and rolls a 12 on his HT roll; literally avoids passing out by the skin of his teeth. Isit holds her action. Martin stands and waits. Lette attacks against a target of 13, and the roll is 12 for a hit; centaur burns an FP on feverish dodge, rolls a 10; success. A1 holds in place. A2 kicks, aiming at Guard 1's groin. Target is 10, roll is 14, no hit. Centaur steps. A3 moves towards the passage between the two wagons. A4 holds. Dolan sleepsdreams. Guard 1 hacks at the centaur spearman's back, random hit location, target is 13; roll is 15, miss. Guard 2 rises unsteadily to his feet. Guard 3 rolls a 17 on his HT check to recover from stun, and passes out! Guard 4 continues to doggedly crawl away. C1 takes a step forward. C2 steps backward and spears at Guard 1's vitals. Target is 10, roll is 9, hit; No damage penetrates. Lo'el 6.5 (5/12 HP) Alec 6.25 (-3/12 HP, crippled arm) Isit 6.25 (3/12 HP) Martin 6.0 (3/12 HP) Lette 6.0 (6/11 HP) Centaur Archers 1-4 6.0 (A1: Seriously injured, A2: injured, A3: injured, A4: Seriously injured) Dolan 5.75 (-2/10 HP, Unconscious) Guards 1-4 5.75 (Guard 1: 7/11 HP; Guard 2: -1/11 HP, Unconscious; Guard 3: 5/11 HP, Unconscious; Guard 4: 5/11 HP, crippled, prone, unarmed) Centaur Spearmen 1-2 5.5 (C1: Seriously injured, C2: injured) Map is Here. Combat is steadily drawing towards a close; shouldn't be but a few more rounds at most.
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Mar 24, 2012 00:20
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The centaurs look around, largely appearing to not heed Isit or Lette's threads and boasts as they evaluate the situation. The one moving south to support halts, and turns to the bunched-together Martin and Alec, stomping the ground and glaring as it prepares to charge... but it doesn't. "Permission to reengage-" "...denied." The leader speaks up from the rear. "We've got half of what we came for, scouts, and I'm not about to lose any of my people chasing half of an objective. Withdraw in order, able-bodied to hold the rear against reinforcements." With a snarl, the centaur spins and moves to link up with the southern group rather than trying to trample the two injured swordsmen; as they move towards each other, both ostentatiously sidle just close enough to Lo'el to tempt the faun into a reckless charge, eying him with frank looks of anticipation. In passing, and intended more as a final insult than anything else, as one of the archers breaks into a run he aims his rear hoof at the last upright guard. This time, it connects perfectly on the aimed target, and with a nauseating thud the guard... staggers backward, dropping his sword and clutching himself. And then he (mercifully) passes out. Still, despite that late setback, the centaurs begin to file away, and the worst that can be said is that they were held to a draw. None of the enemy fell- but the intent of the ambush was foiled, in that they didn't bring back any prisoners, and nobody was dead (on either side). There were still a few minutes before reinforcements arrived to secure the scene, and much to do; many lied injured and bleeding and needing medical attention, the slightly-slumped driver of one wagon stared with sightless eyes at the group, and the contents of both refugee wagons were unknown- though very possibly, the heroes had no desire to see them. Initiative list and statuses are below as normal, but I expect this is the end of combat unless... well, unless Lo'el feels a burning need to try to Leeroy Jenkins into history by trying to kill one of the retreating centaurs without real support. Note: ...pretty much *everyone* is bleeding, and as such will be losing 1 HP a minute until someone stabilizes them with at least a first aid roll. Nobody will be put at risk of dying or passing out from blood loss before the guard reinforcements arrive, though, it will just make eventual healing take a tiny bit longer. And there are mysteries left on the field to probe~ Lo'el 6.5 (5/12 HP) Alec 6.25 (-3/12 HP, crippled arm) Isit 6.25 (3/12 HP) Martin 6.0 (3/12 HP) Lette 6.0 (6/11 HP) Centaur Archers 1-4 6.0 (A1: Seriously injured, A2: injured, A3: injured, A4: Seriously injured) Dolan 5.75 (-2/10 HP, Unconscious) Guards 1-4 5.75 (Guard 1: 3/11 HP, unconscious; Guard 2: -1/11 HP, Unconscious; Guard 3: 5/11 HP, Unconscious; Guard 4: 5/11 HP, crippled, prone, unarmed) Centaur Spearmen 1-2 5.5 (C1: Seriously injured, C2: injured) Lo'el moves. Alec moves, and succeeds his consciousness roll. Isit takes a step, and rolls against intimidation; roll is a 15, failure. Martin moves. Lette takes a stab at a centaur again, and rolls a 7 for a hit; Centaur C2 again spends an FP on feverish dodge and rolls a 9, success. A1 through A4 begin a coordinated withdrawl; A2 move and attacks Guard #1 in passing, kick to the groin again; target is 10, roll is 3- Critical Hit, no dodge possible. Critical roll is 14; no special addition. 4 HP damage penetrates. HT roll against stun is a 12, which with the copious modifiers is a critical failure- Guard #1 goes unconscious. Dolan dr-5n$G9^uIG@2Z4$Ig* No guards are capable of offensive action. Guard 4 crawls. Spearmen 1 and 2 withdraw. Final map: Here
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Mar 24, 2012 04:44
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The darkness swirls around Dolan, and he seems to be awake while also being asleep. Nothing hurt- everything was warm and soft, like a blanket that failed to smother. Very comfortable. Very homey. Almost like being underground again, in a comfortable bed, alone except for- Not alone. Dolan could tell he was sleeping, but at the same time what was happening felt real to his senses. He had no body- he couldn't move anything- but at the same time, he felt gentle pressure around his shoulders touching him like ghostly hands. Almost like a massage. "So fractured a mind," a voice whispers into his right ear. "No wonder the magic deserted you. You don't own your own mind... you shine out to me like a beacon, sweet dwarf." The kneading pressure intensifies, trailing lower- there's a definite sense of not being Alone; the feminine voice seems to come from two places at once inside his own head, shifting in tone and pitch frequently and sometimes so garbled that the sounds aren't words- but the meaning is nevertheless crystal clear in the runepriest's mind. "So many regrets so many secrets in here with us... lovely nooks and cracks and crannies to explore..." The massage seems to probe on the surface of and inside Dolan's head- it's oddly soothing, somehow. "I will be very gentle dear one. I can help you smooth those cracks. Harness your power so much more effectively. Perhaps later. I will let you rest here with your friends. But I SEE you now. We will talk again... in better circumstances. Our purposes are not much different... swee&#@%!(4fj@#! Dolan." And then the other presence drains away Dolan slips, alone, back into the warm and soothing depths of unconsciousness. Dolan is not awake yet, but will remember this conversation precisely when he does. Mukaikubo fucked around with this message at 05:01 on Mar 24, 2012 |
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Mar 24, 2012 04:59
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As Alec kneels to begin bandaging Martin's near-mangled legs, he manages to get a dressing around both of the wounds and stop, at least, the flow of bleeding with firm pressure; as he stands up, though, the rush of low blood pressure to his own head from injury and a sudden rise combine to make the barbarian's vision tunnel gray at the sides; an instant later, his overtaxed brain finally shuts down and he collapses beside the swordsman he just healed. Alec rolls an 8 on First Aid, and a 15 on his HT roll to stay conscious. Martin is stabilized! Further south, a wearied group begins attending to stopping the bleeding. There's enough scattered along the dirt and gravel road to turn entire sections of roadway into a muddy crimson mess, but despite a few of the guards especially looking wan from their struggle no major problems present themselves. The dust clouds of horseman coming from Noah rise steadily, but are still a little ways out by the time the last guard's wound is bandaged; the poor man who got kicked in a tender spot is unconscious, and on reflection probably best if he remains so until in the care of a healer with very powerful herbs. As Lette approaches the southern wagon, the driver up front slumps a little more to one side, letting her see in; this wagon's deserted, thoroughly cleaned out of occupants and possessions alike. After a few seconds, something registers in the farm girl's mind; there was blood everywhere on the road... but not a drop around the wagons. The driver should have bled out if killed and stained the ground beneath him or the boards beneath him, but there's nothing there- and further inspection reveals not a wound in his flesh. If Lette had to guess, she'd say the middle-aged man had a heart attack at some point in the last few hours. With sufficient time, everyone else is stabilized in a minute or so, and in no immediate danger of bleeding out and making a mess.
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Mar 24, 2012 17:24
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The southern cart, inside, is bare and simply arranged; two long wooden planks along the side, secured to the bottom of the wagon with vertical planking that forms each side into a rough bench. There's not much room in the wagon, though the lack of dust and the faint smell of unwashed bodies hints that there were a lot of people crammed into the wagon in the not so distant past. They... couldn't have had many possessions with them, though. And there's nothing left inside now.
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Mar 24, 2012 20:42
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The second wagon is much the same as the first; two paralell benches, a smell of unwashed refugees, and nothing else. Not even a driver, for this one; presumably the centaurs kept the horses going in the correct direction themselves. Both wagons are a fairly typical conveyance for this part of the old Empire; usually they'd be simple, cheap passenger transportation from one city to a neighbor. Common, and as such available in any town in numbers- probably the easiest choice to get out of a dangerous situation very quickly, if it wasn't just a shuttle interrupted. Lo'el: The northern wagon... you can very faintly hear a rustling of something underneath the benches.
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Mar 24, 2012 20:50
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The rustling noise stops as Lo'el enters the wagon. It's as quiet as the grave.
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Mar 24, 2012 20:58
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There's not many gaps in the lower planking. Mostly it's a closed off, dirty, dark area, strewn with cobwebs and unattended dust. When Lo'el looks in, though, he can see a shape moving around, trying to silently squirm its way into a far corner. The shape looks up, looks past Lo'el to his goat bottom half and hoof- and begins screaming desperately. Outside the wagon, the sound of a young girl shrieking in terror cuts the silence.
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Mar 24, 2012 21:08
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The little girl squirms deeper into the recess, trembling and terrified; after much coaxing and prying, she's gently removed from her hidey hole into the morning sunlight. She promptly scampers partway under the wagon, curling up in a sitting position with her hands around her knees and clutching a threadbare tan rabbit doll to her. The brown-haired and eyed little girl takes in the scene with quick looks, measuring the carnage that the area had seen seconds ago, and whimpers slightly. "They're... really gone? Really really?" She's dressed in mostly sackcloth rags, torn and worn; her skin's also plenty dirty, smudged and dull with tangled hair. Rocking slightly, she adds, "Mommy told me to hide. And be quiet. Really gone?"
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Mar 24, 2012 22:18
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The little girl sniffs, curling a little tighter around herself. "...Kat." She mumbles. "The others said we'd be taken somewhere safe but then the soldiers came and I had to hide."
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Mar 24, 2012 22:57
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There's not much else around the wagons, even to Isit's practiced eye; it may as well have been that ghosts descended from on high and simply erased everybody who'd been in the wagons, and then vanished without leaving a trace. Whatever was left was indistinguishable from something that could have come from a refugee. There's... well, come to that, there's not really any evidence of a struggle at all. No weapon marks in the wood, no broken slats, no... anything. In either wagon. If the refugees put up a struggle to not be abducted, they had to have waged one of the weakest and least effectual resistances possible. Meantime, Kat snuffles, holding her bunny in front of her like a shield. She glances over at the fallen form of Alec, shuddering slightly, before she says hesitantly, "We're from... Paldiski." She sniffs. It wasn't a particularly familiar name- a small merchant town a little less than halfway from Noah to the northern border of the old Empire. Two, three days journey by horseback. Peering up at Lette with glistening eyes, she says quietly, "When she told me to hide. A few hours ago. When the soldiers stopped us." To the latter question, she shakes her head, looking down. "I want my mommy." The first of the guards rounds the bend, sees bodies, and immediately bellows- "MEDIC!"
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Mar 24, 2012 23:57
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Kat sniffs, her only response to the reassurances. A pair of horses thunder up to the scene- drawing a reflexive tensing in Kat- before two guards dismount. "By all the gods- what happened here? Are there still bandits nearby?" They turn and wave, and a second mail wagon rounds the bend; this one crammed full of all the guards that the captain could round up on a few more minutes' notice, Dirksen standing beside the wagon driver with a heavy crossbow loaded and ready- and when the quarter-orc watchman sees the chaos, he blanches. Just so y'all know, the next post I make will FAST FORWARD everyone back to town as the guards get y'all to healers and get this place secure, so make your peace with the scene as you will.
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Mar 25, 2012 00:31
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"He doesn't have a name," Kat sniffs. "He's a toy." --- As guards swarm the scene, supplementing first aid efforts and taking charge of the situation, a pair of guards are sent out on horseback to scout, follow the trail, and track the centaurs with a view to a retaliatory strike and rescue mission as soon as practicable. All those sent out to recover people are sent on wagon back to the city, where the press of people is less eager to alow them through returning than they had been going- still, after a long fifteen minutes of slow travel, one by one people are helped or carried into what passes for the town's hospital. As healing magic has, recently, grown much more powerful, the 'hospital' in this case is just a large airy building with reasonably comfortable beds cleaned daily for people to await the attentions of the employed chirurgeons.  The new arrivals are guided or taken to beds next to each other, and after a few minutes a dapper looking elf in a plain brown leather robe comes out, ruby necklace dangling from his neck as he surveys his new patients and clucks in disapproval. "More fighting, is it? Pity and a sin that people still have to fight each other in this day and age, of course I know it was some good cause but then there's always a good cause, isn't there? Part of the sin and shame of it all. Nothing for it, let's see what we've got here." In each case, the bedside manner is similar; the healing mage, a Mr. Koppal, examines the injures for a few minutes while chattering a mile a minute about utter trivialities- then he'll grow serious, and tell the patient exactly how badly they've wrecked some important part of their body, then place hands on the afflicted part and with a minute's chanting, channel positive energy into the wounds doing a great deal to knit flesh back together. Then, drained, the mage will hobble off to make chatter with another patient until he feels up to a repeat of the exercise. Most of the healings go without incident; injured limbs are mostly quickly fixed, with only Alec and Dolan meriting further attention. The elven mage's face, almost shorn bald of blond hair to avoid interference with his work, greets them with a smile and a dextrous flutter of pointed ears and a "Welcome back to the land of the living!" Dolan is pointedly cautioned to not take any hits to the head in the next few days, as the wound has not yet entirely healed and could well be aggravated- and Alec, an even more pointed caution about not trying to stress his still-wounded arm, a dire warning that an inch more and the limb would have been lost- followed by an injunction to return in the morning so that Mr. Koppal could finish knitting muscle and flesh together. The guards also get the same attention, with the centaur-kicked one earning the most (and most sotto voce) attention from the elven mage. After a few hours of healing and observation, the elf reluctantly allows a pair of watchman to remove his patients for an emergency meeting with the Mayor- but only after immobilizing Alec's arm tightly in a large bandage swaddling his entire limb in cotton. The guards usher everyone through the streets and into the "Palace"; more functionaries take look of those who still have blood-spattered armor and injuries, but by and large let them go through without audible comment. Waiting on the second floor are the bundles of their goods, as well as Kat under the watchful care of a squat dwarven clerk- the young girl stares at the healed adventurers, cocks her head to one side, and tucks her head back into her arms. This time, there's no wait- this time, they're ushered into the office of Lord Roland. Enough chairs- exactly enough chairs- are arrayed in a semicircle in front of a two yard long oaken desk; sitting in an unprepossessing wooden chair behind it, the lanky mayor rises to greet them in. "Welcome, come in, be seated. You did good work out there in a situation far worse than we thought you'd be going into- damned well done to not get yourselves killed..." he trails off, blinking. "No- captured, that was what Captain Dirksen told me you said they wanted. I'm sorry, I haven't been debriefed properly, or I'd be a lot more prepared for you. I understand the basics of what you told the watchmen when they arrived. I only wish the news was better." With a heavy sigh, once all the heroes sat down, Lord Roland dropped into his padded chair and began massaging his temples. The mayor was still a young man, no traces of gray in his hair or well-kept beard, but lines were just beginning to show around his eyes; by all accounts and popular tale, he worked 16 hours a day in this office, barely grudging time to eat or sleep. While that could have been patriotic exaggeration (the man doesn't look as though he's in imminent danger of collapse), the smile he gives the adventurers is rather forced. "We'll find the young woman a sound foster home with one of my clerks until we can rescue her parents, which of course we must try to do. I expect the scouts I set forth to return around sundown- and I imagine you'll want to be included in any rescue mission we send...?" Everyone's had a total of 9 HP restored over the medical attentions lasting about two hours; Alec's arm is still crippled and in a makeshift sling, but the healers are pretty sure it'll be fixed tomorrow. All but Alec and Dolan are completely healed; Alec is at 6/12 (and by reasonable standards should not be doing anything but bed rest) and Dolan is at 7/10. FP loss has only regenerated 2 FP, for those in the group without Recover Energy.
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Mar 25, 2012 01:26
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The mayor gives Lo'el a polite nod and murmured thanks before turning a blank gaze on Martin and Isit in turn. He stays silent for a long few seconds, before finally saying, "Sir, you ask what I knew by implication, but what you really want to know is what I suspected." He drums his finger on his desk. "To the first: Damned little, which is a particular dislike of mine. Everything after a few days' travel to the north has- simply gone dark to my communications and my- sources of intelligence. There could be an army gathering up in the foothills of the barrier mountains. I rather suspect there is. That being the case, what I knew was that a cart that appeared from afar to contain two wagonloads of refugees was fleeing an area I know nothing about and desperately want to, and was being chased by forces consistent with a small number of soldiers on horseback." The mayor leans back slightly, and continues, "I suspected they might be scouts for an army moving southward attempting to ensure no concrete information about their intelligence got loose. That you were supposed to be captured instead of killed also makes sense- they wanted to know what they had in front of them, or more optimistically on their flank." With a sad smile, he adds, "I don't believe in optimism these days." "Now, you ask about a Queen. I found that very interesting. When I heard it was centaurs, I assumed that they came from a colony of militant monsters that has taken up residence in a middling-sized wood a day's travel northeast of here. I happen to know that their leader is some sort of female monster. However, all I've heard indicates that she is not the type to take the title of "Queen", and more concerningly the town that young Kat said she came from is quite to the north-west. The road they came from similarly bends far away from the monsters' wood- they'd have to ford a river and pass up two closer and more inviting roads in to take hostages in if they wanted. So, regrettably, given all the facts I have- I have to conclude that there is some large army headed for Noah that is close enough for scouts to range within sight. We can't assume that they're all centaurs, Alec-" The mayor nods, cordially, "-or even that they're all monsters. We simply don't know what we don't know..." Standing up abruptly, the Mayor heads for his window, staring out at his city. "That's why- with my apologies- I have to ask that when you follow the trail north, you'll be acting as my eyes and ears... and not just as a rescue mission. Maps, of course, would be provided in any event." Nodding behind him at Lette, "Of course. I understand there are some guards in need of recuperation duty that would be pleased to guard another survivor of that attack. As for the second driver-" His lips tighten. "None. Unless Kat drove the wagon, or the army has someone who is good enough to remain invisible with them, or..." He shrugs. "Unless something impossible occurred, the centaurs were able to herd those horses in reasonable formation with the dead driver."
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Mar 25, 2012 05:31
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"We brought in the wagons," Lord Roland says to Dolan without turning from his view of the city. "You are of course welcome to examine them. For reasons of bureaucracy if nothing else, I'm putting you all on the city payroll as of this morning. If nothing else, I don't want you worrying about food when you should be worrying about the safety of all the people in this city." Reaching up, he rubs his scalp- first signs of baldness just starting to show at the crown under thick short black hair- and turns back to the others as Martin speaks. "Is there deception afoot?" The mayor asks. "I'm almost sure of it. But the facts still apply, no matter how much I wish they didn't. Something has caused many settlements to the north to go quiet. Now, a pair of wagons of refugees, or wagons with a refugee load extremely well faked, is intercepted by a band of well trained soldiers. It's then driven into sight of the city, and from their words we can assume they meant to ambush us our first responders and abduct them. It doesn't make much sense however you spin it, Martin, but what continues to make sense to me is that they were testing our response and wanted someone to interrogate who could reasonably be expected to know about the defenses of the city. After all, they could hardly have counted on newcomers being sent out to meet their scouts. We have to assume that whoever sent the centaurs did so with the full expectation of fighting guardsmen." He walks back to his desk and sits, watching each as they speak in turn. "You'd be surprised just how potent an army I can muster on short notice, Alec. But I can't just assume it will be enough. I have... contacts, with other people and factions of importance. I'll start activating them, and I may need some of you to help with that once you return. Internal security is something we'll have to watch, to be certain, but against a horde all I can do is speed the construction of the walls even further and assemble the largest army possible." Roland steeples his fingers under his chin, and adds, "I had planned to dispatch you north tomorrow afternoon, after you've all had a chance to completely heal. I'm afraid there will be a storm this evening, though, and a bad one by the looks of the clouds- it's why Captain Dirksen sent a pair of officers north on horseback to trace the trail as far as they can before the rains come. At the very least it will give you a place to begin."
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Mar 25, 2012 20:50
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"The way I prefer to call it, Lo'el," Lord Roland says, "Is 'Think before you leap.' The wisdom is the same. I just hope we have enough time to think before the ground crumbles under all our feet. From the sound of it, a rough consensus is to take the remainder of the day and night to do what investigations-" he peers at Dolan, "-and I know the eminent Mr. Koppal trusts they will be ones that do not overstress your injuries- and set out in the morning armed with my scouts' reports. I will be happy to let the Captain take charge of this investigation- gods know I'm about to have even more to do myself. Anyway, if my understanding's entirely correct, a few last things. Lo'el, I am... not honestly sure we have the facilities for a proper wash here in the 'Palace'-" even the mayor using verbal airquotes to belittle his own building, "-but I am sure whatever inn you are staying at will be perfectly fine. The blood won't dry that much more in the next half hour than the several you've already had to wait. I am told cold water is best." "A... witch?" The mayor cocks a single eyebrow. "I have no idea, of course, where I would find one on short notice, but then I don't trouble myself to account for everyone in town and their vocation." He then mutters under his breath, "Unfortunately." With a glance backwards he adds, "Though I'm sure one will be in the market if you inquire enough; the afternoon and evening are usually high traffic through the main roads. I would warn you to keep at least one hand on your valuables though I doubt you need the reminder." Lette's tale draws a sharp stare from the Mayor. "I wasn't aware of that." He says, sounding half offended at the concept. "If entire towns are being depopulated, that's worse than I'd feared, though I have no real idea who or what would be doing that. It also raises the prospect that whatever is coming for us may, in fact, be supernatural. If that's so, Alec- it may be time for me to make the rounds of the temple district and sound out various priests to see if divine aid is in the offing. But that, for now at least, is my business and not yours. Continue to see the guards for arms and armor, and they may also have provisions for you to take in the morning. The Captain will know the importance of your mission." With that last statement- one not quite as unabashedly supporting as it seemed at first- the Mayor drew the top sheet of paper off a perilously large stack balanced on his desk.
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Mar 25, 2012 23:57
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"We'll keep an eye out for him." Lord Roland promises, but not without the tiniest gleam in his eye- though it may be just Lette's imagination- that calls to mind darker, more opportunistic motives. Nodding them out, a clerk comes in to usher everyone out of the office so that His Excellency can get more work done; but not without a parting shot of, "And Alec- keep talking like that and I'll send you to negotiate an alliance with the monsters." As the door closes, there's a very faint hint of a laugh. I will do up a more proper downtime post tomorrow evening with casting results, shopping etc; this is just to free people up who wanna chatter without being nailed to their chairs in the office!
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Mar 26, 2012 05:11
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Dolan studies the seat where the dead driver sat, committing its form to memory before writing the runes that would let him know what the seat knew. This time- albeit with an odd and unexpected slight rush of warmth in the back of the dwarf's head- the spell goes smoothly, and Dolan doesn't have any trouble forming the impressions he seeks. The initial taste is of panic, and old wood being driven harder than it was ever built to drive- the driver lashes the reins like a madman, sweating and red-faced. The thunder of many hooves other than the first is felt, and the familiar centaurs from before pacing the cart in a run, occasionally turning and demanding the driver halt. After a long few minutes trying to ignore the soldiers, the man clutches his chest in a spasm of agony and slumps to one side; the wagon begins to veer off the track to one side, only to see one of the centaurs move in and force the horses to remain on the track and not throw the wagon and its cargo on its side. The wagon slows to a halt, and though there's loud lamentations behind the driver's seat the area of spell effect cannot see; after a long pause, the centaurs take up the reins and prod the wagon on, one on each side, flanking the compliant horses to drive the wagon along. History spell roll is an 8, success; 3 FP spent. Martin finds the same guard headquarters without much difficulty, and the intrepid Corporal Gudjohnson intercepts him at the door. "Sir! Captain Dirksen let us know you'd probably be coming! We've been ordered to basically supply you with anything, leastaways assuming you aren't gonna ask for the city treasury or nothing!" The lanky lad lets loose a light, limp smile at his own lacking joke, but continues, "Not to worry about the dents in the armor, sir, those hammer right out and there's a busy blacksmith works just for us nowadays who's used to having to fix up armor what got nicked up in a scuffle! Course he also told me to let you know he didn't have anyone to spare to go with you this time since he's already going to be canceling all leave to get everyone ready in the coming times, is what he said sir." Gudjohnson's words come out in rapid, staccato bursts as he guides Martin from room to room. "Plenty of field rations around sir but if you'll take it from me they're not worth much in a pinch, much better food for cheap in the markets most days. Horses we don't really have, just a few mules for carrying things, not much use for mounted guards in the city streets! Had to borrow to get what went out to go help you yesterday, speaking of they should be back any hour now mark me, the Captain sent some people from Rural Parts on them to be sure they didn't ride into a ditch as he says!" Martin rolls a 5 on diplomacy, or a (before modifiers) 15 on his reaction roll to the guard on duty; either comes up with a Very Good reaction result, which basically means "Anything that isn't totally unreasonable" will be given freely, albeit with a signature to show who's signing it out. The others amble along the marketplace, loud noise and crowds pressing them together from all sides; as they go from chatter to shopping, particular stalls prove quite simple to find as banners jut out over the crowd with writing and unmistakeable pictograms depicting what that stall has on offer. The biggest bow salesman- who appears to be a dwarf standing on a stool with a robe long enough to conceal all but the bottom few inches of said stool- eyes Lette's bow warily, before chewing a few times and saying flatly, "40 gold, lass. 45 iffin you're lookin' to trade up." SHOPPING! By default, shopkeepers will be offering to sell things for 120% their list price in the books and will buy your stuff for 80% the list price (profit margins!). Haggling I'll handle with reaction rolls; note that if anyone has merchant skill, they'll be able to get a bonus on those reaction rolls. You could get a discount, or piss the merchant off enough he throws you out, especially if you're a filthy unwashed barbarian! You can either buy stuff- and within reason there's a lot that will be available in a growing town like Noah, just don't go nuts- or roll the dice and take your chances. NC- 'base' cost we'll say is 20$ per energy point to be used for a spell.
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Mar 27, 2012 02:57
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Continuing his search, Dolan moves to the back. A quick check reveals little that the faun hadn't already noted; a still heavy smell of unwashed bodies, but no possessions at all to leave any more concrete trace that anyone had ever been there. Delving back into the wagon's past, the runes again come easy with a surge of warmth behind Dolan's eyeballs. The past unspools, and comes to a halt in the middle of a crowd of people packed in like sardines wearing battered, torn rags- haunted looks on their faces, some clutching each other for support both physical and emotional as the wagon rattles on its bone-jarring pace. Desperation and terror hangs thickly in the air; a few people appear to be lost in prayer with head down and taking no heed of the outside world. A cry from the front, and a veer of the wagon; after a few minutes of events already seen, the wagon slows, and silence falls. Centaurs loom in the rear of the wagon clutching swords, a pair already seen; in brusque language, they demand the refugees leave or suffer the consequences. All do- cowed, hungry, and miserable, whatever the soldiers will do to those who fail to comply seems not worth chancing. The centaurs seem to take pains not to actually hit or even touch the refugees, herding them with words and gestures away from Dolan's field of view. The rest is emptiness.
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Mar 27, 2012 05:02
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"Don't stock magic arrows," the shopkeeper avers. "Bodkin points though, got plenty!" Alec earns a blank stare from the bartender, who stops polishing a glass to give Alec his full attention. In a slow, talking-to-children voice, he drawls, "Son, ah don't know if yew're not from around heeyah or a little touched in the haid, but ah reckon anything what's been forgotten ain't a thing what someone would remember on account of it bein' forgotten, y'heah? And I ain't knowing what it is you're meaning by long past, neithah." As he clarifies, the barkeep sends Lette a flummoxed look, and adds, "Reckon the Mayor's got to have a historian, yah? Town ain't big enough for no fancified university learnin'." Alec's diplomacy attempt fails, and the reaction roll is... middling. The next spell, as Dolan moves on, starts normally... but the rush of heat behind Dolan's eyes somehow fails to come. Perhaps expecting it, perhaps for some other reason, but the runes crook over and fail to form properly, spoiling the spell before it can tell him anything. Spell roll: Failed The young corporal taps a grimy finger to his lips, eying Martin as he makes his requests. "Don't really stock arrows, got lots of bolts for crossbows though. Longbows don't get much use in a city sir! Everything else sounds like it won't be a problem to get you though!" HEY WHO WANTS PRESENTS So, my target rate of CP gain for the game is aroooound 1, 1 and a half CP per page, awarded at opportune downtimes and with adjustments for awesome; since this is the downtime between the first and second "missions", more or less, this seems a fine time to hand out 10 CP FOR EVERYONE! In addition, I am now introducing the OPTIONAL RULE on page 347, influencing rolls with CP, with some edits: -You can only influence one roll per IRL week. Before any roll of any kind, you can declare that you will spend a CP to improve the result of that roll. A critical failure will become a regular failure; a regular failure will become a regular success; a regular success will NOT become a critical success. A critical success will instead get Extra Benefits, shadowy and determined by me at my whim alone. Mukaikubo fucked around with this message at 04:07 on Mar 28, 2012 |
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Mar 28, 2012 03:56
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When a very threatening looking barbarian wanders into the Palace and loudly demands to see a word that he can't pronounce particularly well, often times that's going to go poorly for the man who tries it unaccompanied. Perhaps accidentally and perhaps not, the first clerk that Alec asks gets a rabbit-eyed stare and flees hastily; though he searches for someone else to ask, he's soon tapped on the shoulder by a suspicious guard and asked exactly what he thinks he's up to. The misunderstanding gets straightened out after a few minutes of exasperated officials trying to figure out what's going on for themselves and often failing; eventually and after much heartache Alec is curtly informed that while the city has an official historian, it's someone who's just concerned with the story of the city and not much about wider questions. The clerks and guards don't have much in the way of constructive options to give the northman. General reaction roll is a 6 (not good) and the diplomacy roll is a 14 (also not good); Alec finds no help here. Lo'el's returned breastplate is accepted without comment by the long-suffering sergeant on duty, and the faun's request for a map is given a fishy eye; after a slightly-too-long wait, though, a harassed man's rounded up, and parchment laid down in front of the faun.  The basic geography of the area is a long grasslands cut by a number of large and small rivers flowing from the barrier mountains to the north down towards the distant sea to the south. Noah sits aside a major east-west trade road, with a spur heading north and subdividing again- the west branch of the north road heads off to the town Kat named as her hometown, while the eastern curved back up into the foothills. A pair of forests to the east and northwest are long-distant but in the area; to the east is the forest that Lord Roland referenced a monster band taking for their own. There's sparse forest or cover aside from rolling hills for much of the way, this area being the agricultural heart of the old Empire and being almost covered with farmland from riverbed to riverbed. [i]Everyone heading to the inn to decompress before the trip out tomorrow?
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Mar 29, 2012 03:44
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Dolan, after the digression into comparative magical theory and practice, casts a spell to show Lette how it's done. The rapidly-becoming-familiar surge of warmth behind his eyes flares as he writes the runes, and then he begins to see the past of the wagon as seen by a section of the wagon's rear. The image starts to coalesce in his mind, of frightened people packed tightly, but as soon as his last rune is written the lines warp and writhe, distorting themselves and turning his vision to mush. Someone or something has countered the spell; Dolan knew such a spell very well, meant to make it difficult to magically obtain information about something. It usually wore off after half a day, but could be made permanent at great cost. Before a warning can go out, Lette tries to mimic what she sees and turn it into something she can play. The notes are from the beginning ever so slightly wrong, but the lyre resisted her attempts to shape the notes to what she could clearly see in her head. It was as if the lyre was retuning itself after every note just enough to distort the melody- but the distortion was inside Lette's own head. Persisting, the farm girl tries to brute force through the interference, and to an extent does; she can see hazy images of the refugees in lots, and then a wave of static and the refugees herded off the wagon, and another wave of static and the wagon empty save for the form of a young girl crawling under a seat- Kat, presumably, but the details of the small pale form are difficult to discern in her mind's eye as it tries to batter through the mist. Dolan passed his spell roll, but lost a quick contest of spells to a Scryguard that has been placed on Wagon #2. Lette exactly tied it, which I'm going to rule gives hazy and detail-lacking information. The words come easily, and the magic flows for the northman just as readily as it ever has; the instant the last syllable is said, the stones begin to glow painfully bright. Cries of annoyance from other tables ring out before he can cover the bright stones- even so, the light is still visible from underneath cover. Alec's spell roll succeeds.
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Mar 30, 2012 02:00
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With a flare of warmth, Dolan begins trying to wave away the magical obscuration that has been placed on the wagon's past; as he does, though, the spell he thought he was countering seems to waver and shift under his senses. Whoever cast the spell is... formidable. Dolan fails to win the quick contest of spell rolls.
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Mar 30, 2012 02:36
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Lette begins to play, calling to mind how she would structure a tune meant to conceal an object from prying magical eyes. That in itself is a difficult task, demanding the young woman stride several paces past what she's learned and try to turn it on its head; compounding that is the minor issue that Lette's trying not to play that tune, but to play a tune out of phase to cancel that tune at least well enough to let herself or Dolan do what the tenacious remaining magic won't let them do, see once more into the past. Frustratingly, what Dolan found holds true for Lette as well. The tune Lette's trying to find changes even as she thinks of it, causing every fourth or so note to jangle discordantly and help spoil the rhythm. Enough notes fail that the farm girl can't quite manage to dispell the scryguard. Lette succeeds her roll, but the original caster of the Scryguard succeeds by one more.
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Mar 31, 2012 02:31
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