-
Hey, guest user. Hope you're enjoying NeoGAF! Have you considered registering for an account? Come join us and add your take to the daily discourse.
Navigating the Astral Sea: A NeoGAF Play-by-Post Pathfinder Game
- Thread starter ThLunarian
- Start date
Re-Roll Cat's luck: 1D20+13 = [12]+13 = 25 ((Phew, barely! Which means that Viss takes no damage at all thanks to evasion.))
As the metal box flies out of the elf's hand, Viss can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. Serves him right for trying to undermine their loyalties. Before she can tighten her grip and finish him off however the arm she had been biting down on vanishes from between her jaws as the elf teleports himself away.
Maybe she spotted something in his movement that tipped her off, maybe it it was instinct or maybe it was just sheer luck, but as a burst of lightning dashes towards her Viss reacts instantly. Jumping in the air, she twists her body, with far more graze than should be possible for a cat her size, as electricity dances around her.
When she lands again she is surprised to realize that the attack had left her unharmed. Here and there some of the fur is singed and the smell hangs in the air strongly biting in her nose, but if she isn't mistaken she hasn't gotten any additional wounds.
A quick look around confirms that everyone else seems to have endured the attack equally well. Shulmor was quick to move into action, firing his strange gun at the elf. For a moment Viss is sure that this would mean that another of their enemies is dealt with. But even though he staggers quite a bit the elf remains standing.
With a quick glance she checks how Tessa is doing, but when the T-Rex doesn't appear to be in any immediate danger, she focuses back on the elf. Flexing her muscles she pounces at him, determined to finish him off.
((Pounce and therefore full round attack on Zelios. Wound bother with grappling since I hope that I can take him out for good that round...))
Bite attack: 1D20+17 = [12]+17 = 29
Damage: 2D6+6 = [6, 3]+6 = 15
Claw 1: 1D20+17 = [19]+17 = 36
Damage: 2D4+6 = [1, 2]+6 = 9
Claw 2: 1D20+17 = [9]+17 = 26
Damage: 2D4+6 = [3, 2]+6 = 11
((Let's hope that is enough.))
Meanwhile Tessa pays little attention to everyone else's battle. The strange golden glitter is still stinging in her eyes and her vision is blurry to say the least. To make matters worse she can feel her enemy slip out of the grip she had on him. She let's out an enraged growl and starts blindly snapping at the space before her, hoping to recapture the demon.
((Full attack against demon.))
1D20+14 = [10]+14 = 24
Concealment: 1D100 = [49] = 49 ((Fuuuuuuuuu...)
Attack 2: 1D20+9 = [14]+9 = 23
Concealment: 1D100 = [99] = 99
Damage: 3D6+14 = [4, 3, 5]+14 = 26
Grab: 1D20+16 = [10]+16 = 26
As the metal box flies out of the elf's hand, Viss can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. Serves him right for trying to undermine their loyalties. Before she can tighten her grip and finish him off however the arm she had been biting down on vanishes from between her jaws as the elf teleports himself away.
Maybe she spotted something in his movement that tipped her off, maybe it it was instinct or maybe it was just sheer luck, but as a burst of lightning dashes towards her Viss reacts instantly. Jumping in the air, she twists her body, with far more graze than should be possible for a cat her size, as electricity dances around her.
When she lands again she is surprised to realize that the attack had left her unharmed. Here and there some of the fur is singed and the smell hangs in the air strongly biting in her nose, but if she isn't mistaken she hasn't gotten any additional wounds.
A quick look around confirms that everyone else seems to have endured the attack equally well. Shulmor was quick to move into action, firing his strange gun at the elf. For a moment Viss is sure that this would mean that another of their enemies is dealt with. But even though he staggers quite a bit the elf remains standing.
With a quick glance she checks how Tessa is doing, but when the T-Rex doesn't appear to be in any immediate danger, she focuses back on the elf. Flexing her muscles she pounces at him, determined to finish him off.
((Pounce and therefore full round attack on Zelios. Wound bother with grappling since I hope that I can take him out for good that round...))
Bite attack: 1D20+17 = [12]+17 = 29
Damage: 2D6+6 = [6, 3]+6 = 15
Claw 1: 1D20+17 = [19]+17 = 36
Damage: 2D4+6 = [1, 2]+6 = 9
Claw 2: 1D20+17 = [9]+17 = 26
Damage: 2D4+6 = [3, 2]+6 = 11
((Let's hope that is enough.))
Meanwhile Tessa pays little attention to everyone else's battle. The strange golden glitter is still stinging in her eyes and her vision is blurry to say the least. To make matters worse she can feel her enemy slip out of the grip she had on him. She let's out an enraged growl and starts blindly snapping at the space before her, hoping to recapture the demon.
((Full attack against demon.))
1D20+14 = [10]+14 = 24
Concealment: 1D100 = [49] = 49 ((Fuuuuuuuuu...)
Attack 2: 1D20+9 = [14]+9 = 23
Concealment: 1D100 = [99] = 99
Damage: 3D6+14 = [4, 3, 5]+14 = 26
Grab: 1D20+16 = [10]+16 = 26
ThLunarian
Member
((Zeilos goes down.
Cyberdemon rolls a 21 vs CMD to escape Tessa's grapple. Pretty sure that will fail.
Ozzan'gac releases his grapple on Menek as a free action and moves past him to get to Shulmor. Menek may roll an Attack of Opportunity as Ozzan'gac floats past.
Ozzan'gac attempts to Grapple Shulmor: 48 vs CMD is probably going to get there))
Zeilos's mad grin rapidly degenerates into panic and fear as a gigantic claw tears across his midsection, swiping away a large swath of electronic gadgetry and creating a bloody gash in his torso.
"But.... Zerome...." he sputters meekly. He collapses bluntly, metal parts clanging against a metal floor.
The cyber-demon continues to get mangled by Tessa, this time failing to even break free of the large dinosaur's jaws.
Ozzan'gac, apparently sensing the shifting conditions of the battle, changes gears and releases Menek from his aquatic prison. He blazes a trail straight toward Shulmor, undeterred by the memory of what happened the last time he tried this. The lich lord is again enveloped in a tomb of murky, gray water - water that feels like it's rushing toward him from every direction.
((Begin Next Round. Map: http://beta.ditzie.com/74595/566f6cf86a529))
Cyberdemon rolls a 21 vs CMD to escape Tessa's grapple. Pretty sure that will fail.
Ozzan'gac releases his grapple on Menek as a free action and moves past him to get to Shulmor. Menek may roll an Attack of Opportunity as Ozzan'gac floats past.
Ozzan'gac attempts to Grapple Shulmor: 48 vs CMD is probably going to get there))
Zeilos's mad grin rapidly degenerates into panic and fear as a gigantic claw tears across his midsection, swiping away a large swath of electronic gadgetry and creating a bloody gash in his torso.
"But.... Zerome...." he sputters meekly. He collapses bluntly, metal parts clanging against a metal floor.
The cyber-demon continues to get mangled by Tessa, this time failing to even break free of the large dinosaur's jaws.
Ozzan'gac, apparently sensing the shifting conditions of the battle, changes gears and releases Menek from his aquatic prison. He blazes a trail straight toward Shulmor, undeterred by the memory of what happened the last time he tried this. The lich lord is again enveloped in a tomb of murky, gray water - water that feels like it's rushing toward him from every direction.
((Begin Next Round. Map: http://beta.ditzie.com/74595/566f6cf86a529))
Axelhortsemchi
Member
((Kind of waiting to see what everyone else does, but I'm thinking of letting everyone wail on the cyberdemon/heal themselves and Satra, and then teleport out of Ozz's grapple to attack it if it's still standing in the hopes of getting a grit point back. Though it might actually be better for everyone else if Shulmor stays grappled and keeps Ozzang'ac occupied as some kind of undead chew toy.))
KittenMaster
Member
<If Satra does get healed, will he get a turn? otherwise I'd just leave him down until after the battle.>
ThLunarian
Member
((Yeah KM that's fine. If you get healed this turn then you can take a turn right after that))
KittenMaster
Member
<If it heals more than 5 HP, it will.
I'm most likely going to attempt to get closer to see if I can screw up Zerome's internals. If I have to make yet another DC 50 Engineering, I'm tossing bombs inside exposed wirings instead.>
I'm most likely going to attempt to get closer to see if I can screw up Zerome's internals. If I have to make yet another DC 50 Engineering, I'm tossing bombs inside exposed wirings instead.>
With Zeilos' pathetic last words still ringing in his ear Menek casts Cure Moderate Wounds on Ratbreath. Make yourself useful for a change and get Satra back up. he sighs.
Ratbreath peeks out and seeing the field almost clear grudgingly complies and flies to Satra's body. Landing on Satra's head the owl pecks Satra's nose.
((Deliver Touch spell through familiar.
cure moderate : 2D8+10 = [4, 7]+10 = 21
))
((Half hearted AOO stab at Ozz
Aoo: 1D20+17 = [7]+17 = 24
1D6+7 = [1]+7 = 8
))
The water elemental is controlled and was a friend of ours Shulmor. If you could hold on a moment I will try and constrain him. Perhaps we can break the control.
((Want to hex his saves down and then try Ice Tomb on him. Two rounds of actions))
Ratbreath peeks out and seeing the field almost clear grudgingly complies and flies to Satra's body. Landing on Satra's head the owl pecks Satra's nose.
((Deliver Touch spell through familiar.
cure moderate : 2D8+10 = [4, 7]+10 = 21
))
((Half hearted AOO stab at Ozz
Aoo: 1D20+17 = [7]+17 = 24
1D6+7 = [1]+7 = 8
))
The water elemental is controlled and was a friend of ours Shulmor. If you could hold on a moment I will try and constrain him. Perhaps we can break the control.
((Want to hex his saves down and then try Ice Tomb on him. Two rounds of actions))
KittenMaster
Member
Satra's body reflexively heeds magic's waking call with a heaving rejection of excess fluid that had flooded him prior, hopefully avoiding the sheer fortune it would require to splash the owl channeling the spell. After wiping his lips with the skin of his forearm, Satra starts to slide back into an upright posture, letting out a sort of 'groan' of relief, "Thanks for that! I thought I was about to became a 'washed up has-been' for a moment there."
<I'm gonna move closer to the computer and heal somebody along the way. Does Doc need healing? If not I'll heal myself for some more.>
<I'm gonna move closer to the computer and heal somebody along the way. Does Doc need healing? If not I'll heal myself for some more.>
KittenMaster
Member
<In the interest of probably being asleep soon (or playing Xenoblade X before then), I'm gonna go ahead and just heal myself.
http://beta.ditzie.com/74595/56715060e3c29 - 30 ft. move to I-6
Cure Serious Wounds - _: 3D8+13 = [4, 8, 5]+13 = 30
>
He glances at the nearby owl while grasping for a vial, "Better fly to safety before somebody decides you'd be a good distraction." He gives Fleshbane a stern glare after he says that. Then he skirts around the outside of the battle, forcing the contents of the vial into an already painfully quenched body as he draws closer to the mainframe.
http://beta.ditzie.com/74595/56715060e3c29 - 30 ft. move to I-6
Cure Serious Wounds - _: 3D8+13 = [4, 8, 5]+13 = 30
>
He glances at the nearby owl while grasping for a vial, "Better fly to safety before somebody decides you'd be a good distraction." He gives Fleshbane a stern glare after he says that. Then he skirts around the outside of the battle, forcing the contents of the vial into an already painfully quenched body as he draws closer to the mainframe.
ThLunarian
Member
((Yes it does. Bonuses apply))
Despite his tough talking the elf must have been even more hurt than it seemed, since it only takes one swipe of Viss' claw for him to finally go down once and for all. Viss looks around only the demon and Ozz are left now.
She had done her best to ignore Ozz, not wanting to believe that their friend had actually betrayed them. Even now as the water elemental moved towards Shulmor, engulfing the undead in his watery grip, she still hoped that there was some kind of mistake and that he would come to his senses.
Trusting that Shulmor could more than take care of himself, Viss focuses on the last remaining enemy.
Tessa had the demon in her might jaws and held him fixed in place. Good gir!l
Viss lunges herself forward claws outstretched, she attacks the demon from behind, capturing the creature between her and Tessa.
((Full attack on cyber demon))
Bite Attack: 1D20+27 = [19]+27 = 46
Damage: 2D6+12 = [2, 6]+12 = 20
Claw 1: 1D20+27 = [18]+27 = 45
Damage: 2D4+12 = [1, 4]+12 = 17
Claw 2: 1D20+27 = [20]+27 = 47
Confirming Critical: 1D20+27 = [5]+27 = 32
(( I like to think that that still hits, otherwise I'll correct it.))
Damage: 4D4+24 = [1, 3, 1, 3]+24 = 32
((AoO due to outflanking from Tessa, again only when that critical hit...))
Bite: 1D20+18 = [6]+18 = 24
Concealment: 1D100 = [12] = 12 ((misses))
((Tessa tries full attack on demon))
Bite misses due to concealment.
Bite 2: 1D20+13 = [14]+13 = 27
Conealmeant: 1D100 = [83] = 83
Damage: 3D6+14 = [5, 4, 5]+14 = 28
Grab: 1D20+20 = [20]+20 = 40
Updated Map
She had done her best to ignore Ozz, not wanting to believe that their friend had actually betrayed them. Even now as the water elemental moved towards Shulmor, engulfing the undead in his watery grip, she still hoped that there was some kind of mistake and that he would come to his senses.
Trusting that Shulmor could more than take care of himself, Viss focuses on the last remaining enemy.
Tessa had the demon in her might jaws and held him fixed in place. Good gir!l
Viss lunges herself forward claws outstretched, she attacks the demon from behind, capturing the creature between her and Tessa.
((Full attack on cyber demon))
Bite Attack: 1D20+27 = [19]+27 = 46
Damage: 2D6+12 = [2, 6]+12 = 20
Claw 1: 1D20+27 = [18]+27 = 45
Damage: 2D4+12 = [1, 4]+12 = 17
Claw 2: 1D20+27 = [20]+27 = 47
Confirming Critical: 1D20+27 = [5]+27 = 32
(( I like to think that that still hits, otherwise I'll correct it.))
Damage: 4D4+24 = [1, 3, 1, 3]+24 = 32
((AoO due to outflanking from Tessa, again only when that critical hit...))
Bite: 1D20+18 = [6]+18 = 24
Concealment: 1D100 = [12] = 12 ((misses))
((Tessa tries full attack on demon))
Bite misses due to concealment.
Bite 2: 1D20+13 = [14]+13 = 27
Conealmeant: 1D100 = [83] = 83
Damage: 3D6+14 = [5, 4, 5]+14 = 28
Grab: 1D20+20 = [20]+20 = 40
Updated Map
ThLunarian
Member
((The demon goes down.
His stats were much, much worse in this battle than they would have been if you hadn't gone after him outside. So, well done on that
))
His stats were much, much worse in this battle than they would have been if you hadn't gone after him outside. So, well done on that
))Axelhortsemchi
Member
((Noo, muh grit recovery! :0 ))
Shulmor is once again engulfed by the water elemental. Taking a moment to chart his next course of action, his thoughts are interrupted by Menek's plea. "This so-called friend of yours recklessly put itself in a position to be captured and turned into an enemy combatant. Its poor decision making has made it an active threat. It has failed each of you as well as this organization."
The lich's lecture is briefly interrupted as one of his anklets flashes, causing him to vanish and reappear outside of the elemental. "With our other targets destroyed, I shall commence its destruction momentarily. It shall face judgment for his folly. If you value the life of this turncoat via incompetence so, turn your weak heart into motivation and rescue or subdue it before it dies. I will not waste bullets on a problem that has been dealt with, and if you make your nonlethal solution more efficient than killing it, then so be it."
His piece said, he stows away the shotgun and draws the Conqueror, looking at the emotionless husk of water. "And that is the situation your ineptitude has left you in. You abandoned your men, leaving them to die in an assault you had no hope of succeeding in. Left to nearly die at the hands of a mad scientist, you have failed them. Turned into a pawn of Zerome, you have failed your patron, and are a disgrace. Your only hope for survival lies in the so-called allies you are trying to kill, including the one you practically succeeded in killing. You are unfit to be rescued, and if you have any capacity for speech left, you will use it to admit that you no longer deserve mercy. Now stand there and think on your sins."
((Shulmor thinks reeeaaaaal lowly of Ozz for getting captured and made into an enemy. That and got to keep the #teamevil fun going. Without grit, there's absolutely no way he can kill Ozz in two turns, so Menek still has time to go for his plan. And maybe the intimidate will help with softening up his saves!))
((Swift action to teleport 10 feet away by using a charge from one of his anklets of translocation, swapping weapons to equip the Conqueror, and using his standard action to intimidate. If Ozz's condition hasn't made him immune to mental effects, he's shaken for one round per five points the roll exceeds ten plus his HD plus wisdom modifier, and if the intimidate check exceeds that sum by 10 or more, he needs to make a DC 24 will save or be effected by halt next turn as under the command spell (DC is 10 plus half his antipaladin level plus his charisma modifier, I think I bungled that earlier.)
EDIT: looks like there's a -4 for being smaller than him, so the total is 34, not 38))
((map.))
Shulmor is once again engulfed by the water elemental. Taking a moment to chart his next course of action, his thoughts are interrupted by Menek's plea. "This so-called friend of yours recklessly put itself in a position to be captured and turned into an enemy combatant. Its poor decision making has made it an active threat. It has failed each of you as well as this organization."
The lich's lecture is briefly interrupted as one of his anklets flashes, causing him to vanish and reappear outside of the elemental. "With our other targets destroyed, I shall commence its destruction momentarily. It shall face judgment for his folly. If you value the life of this turncoat via incompetence so, turn your weak heart into motivation and rescue or subdue it before it dies. I will not waste bullets on a problem that has been dealt with, and if you make your nonlethal solution more efficient than killing it, then so be it."
His piece said, he stows away the shotgun and draws the Conqueror, looking at the emotionless husk of water. "And that is the situation your ineptitude has left you in. You abandoned your men, leaving them to die in an assault you had no hope of succeeding in. Left to nearly die at the hands of a mad scientist, you have failed them. Turned into a pawn of Zerome, you have failed your patron, and are a disgrace. Your only hope for survival lies in the so-called allies you are trying to kill, including the one you practically succeeded in killing. You are unfit to be rescued, and if you have any capacity for speech left, you will use it to admit that you no longer deserve mercy. Now stand there and think on your sins."
((Shulmor thinks reeeaaaaal lowly of Ozz for getting captured and made into an enemy. That and got to keep the #teamevil fun going
. Without grit, there's absolutely no way he can kill Ozz in two turns, so Menek still has time to go for his plan. And maybe the intimidate will help with softening up his saves!))((Swift action to teleport 10 feet away by using a charge from one of his anklets of translocation, swapping weapons to equip the Conqueror, and using his standard action to intimidate. If Ozz's condition hasn't made him immune to mental effects, he's shaken for one round per five points the roll exceeds ten plus his HD plus wisdom modifier, and if the intimidate check exceeds that sum by 10 or more, he needs to make a DC 24 will save or be effected by halt next turn as under the command spell (DC is 10 plus half his antipaladin level plus his charisma modifier, I think I bungled that earlier.)
EDIT: looks like there's a -4 for being smaller than him, so the total is 34, not 38))
Code:
[url=http://roll.coyotecode.net/lookup.php?rollid=106805]Intimidate: 1D20 + 34 = [4]+34 = 38
[/url]Be that as it may Menek sighs He is still a member of SAED captured by its enemies and probably in possession of valuable intelligence besides
((Standard Action: Evil Eye Hex on Ozz to drop saves by 4 points. Move Action to Cackle to extend it one round. 14 rounds or DC Will save 23 to reduce it to 2 rounds.))
If you have any sense of self preservation left I would suggest not resisting me Ozzang'ac
((Race on!))
((Standard Action: Evil Eye Hex on Ozz to drop saves by 4 points. Move Action to Cackle to extend it one round. 14 rounds or DC Will save 23 to reduce it to 2 rounds.))
If you have any sense of self preservation left I would suggest not resisting me Ozzang'ac
((Race on!))
KittenMaster
Member
<Kill Ozzang'ac please.>
Axelhortsemchi
Member
((Yeah, that would be my guess on how to go about freeing Ozz too))
ThLunarian
Member
((I'm actually going to bring us out of combat, since Ozz isn't that much of a threat by himself and with the entire party wailing on him))
The cyber-demon, possessed by Zerome, is torn asunder by a pair of ruthless wild animals, leaving only the altered water elemental to face off against the party.
There is a brief moment of uncertainty as they deliberate on how to handle their former companion, who is obviously under some kind of outside influence; some of them opt to instead attempt to destroy the large computer at the back of the room.
Both decision paths are taken from them in an instant. Fleshbane's second attempt to Disintegrate an integral piece of hardware is blocked by some invisible forcefield; Ozzan'gac's structural integrity spontaneously collapses, and he sploshes abruptly into a puddle. The gray color disappears from the water as it spreads silently across the floor.
"If you were under the impression that you were victorious," Zerome's voice booms from some unseen speakers, "You will be disappointed. I have now acquired sufficient data, such that your chances of besting me in combat are statistically irrelevant."
From out of the floors, walls, and ceilings, countless metal tendrils and tentacles of varying thickness emerge, threatening every party member from all sides. One of them wraps itself around the Raven Queen with frightening speed and prehensility. The prisoners on the leftmost wall cower in terror, for the most part, save for Oldarophan, who is simply sad.
The tentacles do not create holes; rather, they seem to sprout from the surfaces themselves.
"Prepare to be neutralized."
((I'm going to ask you guys to do something difficult: I want you to narrate a fight where you lose.
You're not going to get immediately annihilated. It's going to be an intense, prolonged fight for your lives. But it's going to end with you all being hopelessly ensnared by tentacles, defeated, but still conscious.
Note: This is NOT the end of the campaign. We still have another final thrust to go through, which I won't reveal yet. But for now, you're going to get defeated, after putting up a hell of a fight.
You can do snippets from the perspective of your followers if you want to, and if they're still around. If you break any of them free, though, they're also going to end up defeated eventually.
Hopefully this isn't too feel-bad and you can have some fun with it. I'm especially interested in seeing how Shulmor copes with being beaten, given his attitude so far
I'm going to give everyone some time to put this together so don't feel like you're being rushed.
This might go without saying, but since this is a storytelling thing more than anything, don't necessarily feel constrained by how many powers you've used for the day, unless using that constraint makes for a better narrative. If you want to start this battle out at full power, then feel free to do so.
Like I said... have fun! ))
The cyber-demon, possessed by Zerome, is torn asunder by a pair of ruthless wild animals, leaving only the altered water elemental to face off against the party.
There is a brief moment of uncertainty as they deliberate on how to handle their former companion, who is obviously under some kind of outside influence; some of them opt to instead attempt to destroy the large computer at the back of the room.
Both decision paths are taken from them in an instant. Fleshbane's second attempt to Disintegrate an integral piece of hardware is blocked by some invisible forcefield; Ozzan'gac's structural integrity spontaneously collapses, and he sploshes abruptly into a puddle. The gray color disappears from the water as it spreads silently across the floor.
"If you were under the impression that you were victorious," Zerome's voice booms from some unseen speakers, "You will be disappointed. I have now acquired sufficient data, such that your chances of besting me in combat are statistically irrelevant."
From out of the floors, walls, and ceilings, countless metal tendrils and tentacles of varying thickness emerge, threatening every party member from all sides. One of them wraps itself around the Raven Queen with frightening speed and prehensility. The prisoners on the leftmost wall cower in terror, for the most part, save for Oldarophan, who is simply sad.
The tentacles do not create holes; rather, they seem to sprout from the surfaces themselves.
"Prepare to be neutralized."
((I'm going to ask you guys to do something difficult: I want you to narrate a fight where you lose.
You're not going to get immediately annihilated. It's going to be an intense, prolonged fight for your lives. But it's going to end with you all being hopelessly ensnared by tentacles, defeated, but still conscious.
Note: This is NOT the end of the campaign. We still have another final thrust to go through, which I won't reveal yet. But for now, you're going to get defeated, after putting up a hell of a fight.
You can do snippets from the perspective of your followers if you want to, and if they're still around. If you break any of them free, though, they're also going to end up defeated eventually.
Hopefully this isn't too feel-bad and you can have some fun with it. I'm especially interested in seeing how Shulmor copes with being beaten, given his attitude so far
I'm going to give everyone some time to put this together so don't feel like you're being rushed.
This might go without saying, but since this is a storytelling thing more than anything, don't necessarily feel constrained by how many powers you've used for the day, unless using that constraint makes for a better narrative. If you want to start this battle out at full power, then feel free to do so.
Like I said... have fun! ))
ThLunarian
Member
((Oh yeah and one more thing. Each of you can gain 2 levels while we're waiting for everyone to write their piece))
KittenMaster
Member
Only moments after twisting a bomb to activate its detonation, arrives intruding metal appendages that scrape against his hand harshly, causing the man to agonize painfully while the explosive is dangled into the air safely away from the computer core.
It explodes in front of Satra.
It explodes in front of Satra.
Axelhortsemchi
Member
Code:
[url=http://roll.coyotecode.net/lookup.php?rollid=106934]Health: 2D10 + 20 = [6, 4]+20 = 30
[/url]Sure enough, the initial batch of tentacles is unable to keep a grasp on Shulmor as he again activates his anklet to teleport away from their grasp. No longer as surrounded, he opens fire, piercing some of the tentacles that tried to seize him. Still drained of grit, he is forced to rely on quantity of bullets more than individual power, but he is making progress on the tentacles.
As the Raven Queen has proven useless, he makes little effort to free her this time, focusing his fire on the tentacles coming for him as well as those harrying the others. Shulmor can't help but think that this would go simpler if some of the prisoners included his elite soldiers and officers, but he must make due with the rabble before him. Or does he? Feeling a power awaken in him, he raises his hands up and shouts "ARISE, MY MINIONS!" Almost as if in response, the corpses of Zelio, Brick, and quite possibly Archibald animate as mindless zombies and begin hacking away at the tentacles. Unable to feel pain, they have a good run of it, but the corpses are eventually broken apart by the constant stream of tentacles, forcing Shulmor to return to his prior tactics.
The cycle of keeping shooting away tentacles until they close in and teleporting away from their grasp continues for several minutes, with a seeming stalemate in place as new tentacles continue to replace old ones. This lasts until the unavoidable weakness of projectile weapons arises. The shriek of the Conqueror is replaced with a meek click. "Damn, out of ammo!" Shulmor growls in frustration. Left with little other option, the lich flips his pistol around to use the butt as a club and sets to clubbing away the encroaching tentacles. This is far less effective than shooting, but he is still doing some damage.
Unfortunately for Shulmor, attrition does prove to be a valid strategy on Zerome's part. The tentacles are able to swarm him in close range, and the remaining charges in Shulmor's anklets are quickly depleted. Now able to keep their grip, the tentacles bludgeon and rake away, forcing the emperor without an empire to invoke his next layer of defense. The unholy energies coursing through his body rapidly heal the wounds inflicted and erode away at the tentacles, making them easier to strike away. Seeing that this is not a winning strategy, Shulmor notices the corpses of Zelio and the Cyberdemon and has an idea born of desperation.
Letting his negative energy flare, Shulmor forcibly slogs through the tentacles to the nearest body. Ripping away at the metal, he crushes down heaps of scrap into shoddily shaped balls and shoves them into the chambers of his gun. With a roar of triumph, he blasts away the tentacles around him. They are replaced as quickly as the last hundred waves before them.
There are no signs of an end to the tentacles, his ability for regeneration is dwindling, and there is no more ammo to be salvaged. Things look grim. With no apparent end to the tentacles, he goes for a last ditch effort to turn things around. Concentrating on all of the negative energy still coursing through his body, he pulls it into a focal point and delivers a blast to the force field in front of the mainframe. His body goes stiff as the smoke clears, momentarily lacking the energy needed to so much as move. As he regains movement and gets a clearer view, he sees a decent sized hole in the barrier. He prepares to make a call to focus fire, but before he can get the words out, the hole shrinks and is gone, the force field having mended itself before action could be taken. Shulmor is rounded up with the others, the fight is lost.
It'll only be ten years, I said. This'll make a good foothold for conquering the Planes, I said. Perhaps I should have waited few more centuries before taking on gods. Shulmor fumes for a moment before the direness of the situation is laid upon him. He regrets nothing. Regret is unfitting for an emperor. But the severity of things becomes clear. Normally the destruction of his body would mean little, but with his phylactery on him due to the efforts of Zelio, this is a critical situation. He is thrust back to his first failed insurrection in the Drow city of Iilyrhyth'Nydmn, chained up and worked over by his house matriarch with a rather nasty tentacle rod. Barely fighting off its intrinsic curse, he was left to die attached to the wall. This situation feels about as hopeless.
"No! NO!! This cannot be! I am an emperor! Amongst the gods in my own right! Failure is beneath Shulmor!" Left in the tentacles' grasp, he eventually falls into a bout of villainous laughter. "I've got you right where I want you," he says, waiting with anticipation for Viss to turn the room into wood, or Menek, Satra, or Fleshbane to make a final, victorious move only possible from the prior number of tentacles exhausted. He waits for something, anything. The desperation is palpable, but surely nonexistent. Desperation is beneath Shulmor.
KittenMaster
Member
<BTW, I apologize for the short post, but I had to be honest and know that Satra wouldn't last long enough to put up a good fight.>
Every motion of Fleshbane's limbs sends a cascade of sparks spilling out the deep rents in his armored form. Despite the damage he has sustained, he fights with reckless abandon, eschewing the use of his sword in favor of tearing apart Zerome's new appendages with his bare hands.
"You insufferable pile of scrap!" he shouts as uncontrolled beams of energy spill forth from his eyes and render one of Zerome's tendrils caught between his fists into a glowing pile of slag. "How I tire of hearing of your endless calculations!"
For the briefest of moments, Fleshbane tosses the grasping lengths of metal aside and falls back a step, only long enough to manifest a cloud of shrapnel that explodes outward from his resonance crystal and leaves a swath of severed tendrils flopping on the ground in a wide radius around him. Taking advantage of his momentary respite, Fleshbane propels himself through the air, his spiked and bladed ballistic mass tearing through metal to land at the base of the supercomputer unit. With a bellowing roar, he plunges his hands forward to encounter the force field he knows to protect it. Instead of being repelled by it, however, he manages to dig his fingers into it. Smoke pours out of the gaps in his body as he channels his internal power into counteracting Zerome's protective measures and begins to tear a hole through it.
The tentacles in the immediate area react with lighting speed, ensnaring themselves around Fleshbane's limbs and torso and forcibly removing him from his penetration attempt. Their efforts are short-lived, as Fleshbane vanishes from their embrace in a crack of thunder, leaving severed metal limbs thrashing around at their sudden amputation. He instantly reappears on the opposite side of the computer unit, plunging toward his target once more with his greatsword in hand.
The point of impact bathes the chamber in blinding light as the tip of Fleshbane's sword breaks through. His servos squeal in protest as he puts all his mechanical force behind his blade, inching it ever closer to a glowing diode. "I am constructed of malice and fueled by hatred!" he thunders. "I was built to be an engine of death, a tool in the service of slaughter, but I renounce it! I renounce the Consensus! I denounce you! I will be no one's plaything, I exist only to hate your blighted existence!"
Another tendril snakes around Fleshbane's arm and sprouts a row of wicked blades along its edge. As it unspools away, the saw blade action shears right through the construct's limb and drops it to the ground, dead and lifeless. Naked, raw energy spills forth and fills the room with the smell of ozone.
"Either I destroy you, or I am destroyed by you," Fleshbane says as he gazes at his missing arm. "Either way, I am free of your manipulations and interference."
Raising the stump of his upper arm toward the supercomputer, the resonance energy pouring out of it suddenly gains some measure of form as it coalesces into a swelling sphere of light. Upon release, the energy surges forward, a direct and unrestrained conduit to energies of the quantum entangled resonance crystals through out the multiverse.
The force field buckles under the assault, but the effort has left Fleshbane drained and on his knees. Before he can press his advantage, a fresh round of tendrils erupt from the floor around him. These are different than the rest, tapered to adamantine points that forego trying to wrap themselves around Fleshbane for piercing his carapace from a multitude of directions and pinning him in place like an insect to a wall.
Fleshbane's eyes flicker with baleful light before going dark at last.
"You insufferable pile of scrap!" he shouts as uncontrolled beams of energy spill forth from his eyes and render one of Zerome's tendrils caught between his fists into a glowing pile of slag. "How I tire of hearing of your endless calculations!"
For the briefest of moments, Fleshbane tosses the grasping lengths of metal aside and falls back a step, only long enough to manifest a cloud of shrapnel that explodes outward from his resonance crystal and leaves a swath of severed tendrils flopping on the ground in a wide radius around him. Taking advantage of his momentary respite, Fleshbane propels himself through the air, his spiked and bladed ballistic mass tearing through metal to land at the base of the supercomputer unit. With a bellowing roar, he plunges his hands forward to encounter the force field he knows to protect it. Instead of being repelled by it, however, he manages to dig his fingers into it. Smoke pours out of the gaps in his body as he channels his internal power into counteracting Zerome's protective measures and begins to tear a hole through it.
The tentacles in the immediate area react with lighting speed, ensnaring themselves around Fleshbane's limbs and torso and forcibly removing him from his penetration attempt. Their efforts are short-lived, as Fleshbane vanishes from their embrace in a crack of thunder, leaving severed metal limbs thrashing around at their sudden amputation. He instantly reappears on the opposite side of the computer unit, plunging toward his target once more with his greatsword in hand.
The point of impact bathes the chamber in blinding light as the tip of Fleshbane's sword breaks through. His servos squeal in protest as he puts all his mechanical force behind his blade, inching it ever closer to a glowing diode. "I am constructed of malice and fueled by hatred!" he thunders. "I was built to be an engine of death, a tool in the service of slaughter, but I renounce it! I renounce the Consensus! I denounce you! I will be no one's plaything, I exist only to hate your blighted existence!"
Another tendril snakes around Fleshbane's arm and sprouts a row of wicked blades along its edge. As it unspools away, the saw blade action shears right through the construct's limb and drops it to the ground, dead and lifeless. Naked, raw energy spills forth and fills the room with the smell of ozone.
"Either I destroy you, or I am destroyed by you," Fleshbane says as he gazes at his missing arm. "Either way, I am free of your manipulations and interference."
Raising the stump of his upper arm toward the supercomputer, the resonance energy pouring out of it suddenly gains some measure of form as it coalesces into a swelling sphere of light. Upon release, the energy surges forward, a direct and unrestrained conduit to energies of the quantum entangled resonance crystals through out the multiverse.
The force field buckles under the assault, but the effort has left Fleshbane drained and on his knees. Before he can press his advantage, a fresh round of tendrils erupt from the floor around him. These are different than the rest, tapered to adamantine points that forego trying to wrap themselves around Fleshbane for piercing his carapace from a multitude of directions and pinning him in place like an insect to a wall.
Fleshbane's eyes flicker with baleful light before going dark at last.
KittenMaster
Member
<I was gonna hold off until after Satra wakes up, but I figured now would be a good time to do this during downtime>
"Many of the times I sleep in the afterlife, I get lonely. I have a pet kobold, a sort of oddity for a former material plane dweller, but that doesn't stop the shudders brought upon by the void in my heart left by that woman in my life.. I can't help it, I still love her, a stronger man would let go but I can't bring myself to get over it even eons into the afterlife.
"I often think that maybe, if I found a lover, that an embrace of a woman would help me forget about her.. but it's not the same, this is not a girl you can just forget about and pretend she doesn't exist, that is trying to forget an important part of most of your life, many memories you've shared and the hardships you've both endured. She was always a better scoundrel, a fantastic rogue, maybe she was so good at her job that she could even discard those memories that I couldn't. That's the only way I can imagine she would just abandon me the way she did, she was just that strong- that invested in her own deceit."
Satra hurries in pursuit of a lady adorned in a high class uniform, distinct from his own commoner attire suited for a simple cabin boy. "Mercrua!" he yells, hoping to catch her attention. He does, and the lady, a lovely adult woman roughly his age quickly berates her follower, "I told you not to come, Satra! I already explained to you that you aren't suited to this task." Making his case, the man pleads, "Please, Mercrua! Don't go this time. The Capulets have privateer vessels forming a trade blockade just to corner us. Please! it makes me ill to bear the thought of your pulling a suicide trip like this."
Sighing, the woman comes closer, placing a hand on Satra's face, "I've already made arrangements to bypass their formation, but you have to stay here; if you hurry, you can retrieve the crossbow I left before they find you." Dumbfounded, a stricken Satra mutters, "Murcrua, why-" "That is no longer my name," she interrupts, "I'm going to adopt a new name, build a new legacy for myself.. and to do that, I have to leave you behind. I'm sorry, Satra, you would only get in the way. It's been fun, but you're on your own now." Lips trembling and eyes glimmering, Satra murmurs, "N-no no.. Why- Why now why this way- you can't.. no! Please!" As he gazes to her eyes he realizes that she is serious about what she is saying, and tears start running down his face, "Mercrua, I-"
Voices of men give indication of a search happening nearby. Visibly annoyed, the woman, no longer Mercrua, curses under her breath, "You idiot! They've followed you here! You've put me in grave danger!" She quickly knees Satra in the stomach, folding him over and then knocks him onto the ground by slamming his back, finally running off to leave the sullen man as a treasure for her persuers.
Later.. A fat noble looms over Satra tied to a chair, pacing around with hands behind his back as he instructs the captive, "Right now your precious girl is out there in the waters, cannons pointed at her in every direction." This man is Ricard Capulet, kingpin of the trade operation that is a front to many of the illegal distributions, often Mercrua's work before she had betrayed him, with Satra helping with ship maintenance and sailing. Satra was always the side kick, she was the one able to do the talking and fail to rile suspicion. It wasn't until recently that she had apparently found more appealing ventures in scheming, one that Satra cannot have any part in- this apparently includes abandoning her now well known name and life entirely to become a new person. Ricard continues his speech, Satra barely paying attention filled with personal anguish, "You are a hostage now, Mr. Addlelove, and quite frankly your odds are survival are less than hers if she refuses to cooperate. A miracle would at least save her, but you.. if she doesn't turn herself in, well.." He smiles, "We dispose of extra baggage." He pinches Satra's cheek and widens his grin. Ricard then resumes his briefing, "You'll be tied to an anchor- we'll make sure she can see you dangling over the side. Surely she'll see your dramatic plight and wish to turn herself in to save you. Then, we'll set you free." Satra scoffs harshly, his voice cracked, "She doesn't care about me.. She'll sooner jump into hell." Ricard Capulet's expression lights up, "Is that so? All the more reason to carry out this plan. It'll be fun to witness."
"I was right. They ultimately dropped me into the ocean, and the only thing I only remember after that is re-emerging somewhere in the Astral waters, as if the sea bed acted as a portal into a new world.
"To this day I still love her, whatever her name happens to be now. I have to love her by good conscious, all because there is something about her that makes her irreplaceable, a role nobody else can fulfill in my life: she is my sister."
"Many of the times I sleep in the afterlife, I get lonely. I have a pet kobold, a sort of oddity for a former material plane dweller, but that doesn't stop the shudders brought upon by the void in my heart left by that woman in my life.. I can't help it, I still love her, a stronger man would let go but I can't bring myself to get over it even eons into the afterlife.
"I often think that maybe, if I found a lover, that an embrace of a woman would help me forget about her.. but it's not the same, this is not a girl you can just forget about and pretend she doesn't exist, that is trying to forget an important part of most of your life, many memories you've shared and the hardships you've both endured. She was always a better scoundrel, a fantastic rogue, maybe she was so good at her job that she could even discard those memories that I couldn't. That's the only way I can imagine she would just abandon me the way she did, she was just that strong- that invested in her own deceit."
Satra hurries in pursuit of a lady adorned in a high class uniform, distinct from his own commoner attire suited for a simple cabin boy. "Mercrua!" he yells, hoping to catch her attention. He does, and the lady, a lovely adult woman roughly his age quickly berates her follower, "I told you not to come, Satra! I already explained to you that you aren't suited to this task." Making his case, the man pleads, "Please, Mercrua! Don't go this time. The Capulets have privateer vessels forming a trade blockade just to corner us. Please! it makes me ill to bear the thought of your pulling a suicide trip like this."
Sighing, the woman comes closer, placing a hand on Satra's face, "I've already made arrangements to bypass their formation, but you have to stay here; if you hurry, you can retrieve the crossbow I left before they find you." Dumbfounded, a stricken Satra mutters, "Murcrua, why-" "That is no longer my name," she interrupts, "I'm going to adopt a new name, build a new legacy for myself.. and to do that, I have to leave you behind. I'm sorry, Satra, you would only get in the way. It's been fun, but you're on your own now." Lips trembling and eyes glimmering, Satra murmurs, "N-no no.. Why- Why now why this way- you can't.. no! Please!" As he gazes to her eyes he realizes that she is serious about what she is saying, and tears start running down his face, "Mercrua, I-"
Voices of men give indication of a search happening nearby. Visibly annoyed, the woman, no longer Mercrua, curses under her breath, "You idiot! They've followed you here! You've put me in grave danger!" She quickly knees Satra in the stomach, folding him over and then knocks him onto the ground by slamming his back, finally running off to leave the sullen man as a treasure for her persuers.
Later.. A fat noble looms over Satra tied to a chair, pacing around with hands behind his back as he instructs the captive, "Right now your precious girl is out there in the waters, cannons pointed at her in every direction." This man is Ricard Capulet, kingpin of the trade operation that is a front to many of the illegal distributions, often Mercrua's work before she had betrayed him, with Satra helping with ship maintenance and sailing. Satra was always the side kick, she was the one able to do the talking and fail to rile suspicion. It wasn't until recently that she had apparently found more appealing ventures in scheming, one that Satra cannot have any part in- this apparently includes abandoning her now well known name and life entirely to become a new person. Ricard continues his speech, Satra barely paying attention filled with personal anguish, "You are a hostage now, Mr. Addlelove, and quite frankly your odds are survival are less than hers if she refuses to cooperate. A miracle would at least save her, but you.. if she doesn't turn herself in, well.." He smiles, "We dispose of extra baggage." He pinches Satra's cheek and widens his grin. Ricard then resumes his briefing, "You'll be tied to an anchor- we'll make sure she can see you dangling over the side. Surely she'll see your dramatic plight and wish to turn herself in to save you. Then, we'll set you free." Satra scoffs harshly, his voice cracked, "She doesn't care about me.. She'll sooner jump into hell." Ricard Capulet's expression lights up, "Is that so? All the more reason to carry out this plan. It'll be fun to witness."
"I was right. They ultimately dropped me into the ocean, and the only thing I only remember after that is re-emerging somewhere in the Astral waters, as if the sea bed acted as a portal into a new world.
"To this day I still love her, whatever her name happens to be now. I have to love her by good conscious, all because there is something about her that makes her irreplaceable, a role nobody else can fulfill in my life: she is my sister."
It... had been a long day to say the least. Two members of the team had seemingly abandoned SAED. One had been brutally killed and dissected with Viss' spell being the only thing that let them overcome the murderer. Then the sudden appearance of the Observatory, the frantic chase to catch and overcome the cyberntically augmented demon, and then creeping around their former home discovering the horrific things that had fallen his friends. But it seemed like they finally had the upper hand as one after another of Zerome's minions fell before the exhausted remaining members. All they had to do was find some way of neutralizing Ozzang'ac while the rest of the team dismantled the looming machine that was the avatar of the endlessly hungry machine god.
But just as Menek prepared to freeze the water elemental while Satra, Fleshbane, and Viss prepared to destroy the computer the endless waves of tentacles arose from the very surface itself isolating Menek from the others.
Isolated. Right from the start of his adventures as a young and energetic devotee of Aroz Menek had never worked alone. He'd always had compatriots and whether he had been manipulating them, leading them, or even merely advising them the teams had always been greater than the sum of their parts. They covered each other's weaknesses, they augmented each other's strengths. Multiple pairs of eyes could miss what even the most perceptive of them might miss. There had always been safety in numbers.
And in one moment that had been taken away from him. Retreat!, Regroup! he shouted but the words were lost to his own ears over the mechanical clashing and clanking of the countless monstrous tentacles. Menek spun and stabbed like the fencer that he was, his blade stabbing deep into the tentacles, but that barely slowed them down. Not pierce or bludgeon, but rip and shred Menek muttered to himself as he tired and in any case he did not have anything to rip or shred them with. The constant assault from all sides made it impossible for him to cast any spells and all he was left with were his... hexes. Grunting with effort Menek spun around firing Misfortune and Ice Tomb Hexes all around him and though this mysterious inexhaustible source of arcane magick worked to disorient or stop the tentacles there were just too many of them. Over the cacophony as Menek stumbled and fell to a knee he did hear one familiar sound though, a frantic hooting from in his coat. Menek risked glancing inside Got any ideas Ratbreath? he asked but got nothing in return but a renewed terrified squeaking. The sight of the owl did give him an idea though.
Throwing himself into a sideways roll and summoning all his inspired concentration to cast Glitterdust in the air to confuse Zerome's sensors, Menek uses the one moment of earned respite to cast his Flight Hex and shoots through a gap in the waving appendages to flee. Zerome adjusted of course and tentacles shot out to catch him by his ankles but Menek was prepared. Gripping Ratbreak by the scruff of his (her?) neck Menek hurls the squawing ball of fur away from the madness as hard as he can. FLY you fo. is all Menek can get out before being dragged in to the insanity and gagged and trussed up more helpless than any time he could remember in life or in death.
But just as Menek prepared to freeze the water elemental while Satra, Fleshbane, and Viss prepared to destroy the computer the endless waves of tentacles arose from the very surface itself isolating Menek from the others.
Isolated. Right from the start of his adventures as a young and energetic devotee of Aroz Menek had never worked alone. He'd always had compatriots and whether he had been manipulating them, leading them, or even merely advising them the teams had always been greater than the sum of their parts. They covered each other's weaknesses, they augmented each other's strengths. Multiple pairs of eyes could miss what even the most perceptive of them might miss. There had always been safety in numbers.
And in one moment that had been taken away from him. Retreat!, Regroup! he shouted but the words were lost to his own ears over the mechanical clashing and clanking of the countless monstrous tentacles. Menek spun and stabbed like the fencer that he was, his blade stabbing deep into the tentacles, but that barely slowed them down. Not pierce or bludgeon, but rip and shred Menek muttered to himself as he tired and in any case he did not have anything to rip or shred them with. The constant assault from all sides made it impossible for him to cast any spells and all he was left with were his... hexes. Grunting with effort Menek spun around firing Misfortune and Ice Tomb Hexes all around him and though this mysterious inexhaustible source of arcane magick worked to disorient or stop the tentacles there were just too many of them. Over the cacophony as Menek stumbled and fell to a knee he did hear one familiar sound though, a frantic hooting from in his coat. Menek risked glancing inside Got any ideas Ratbreath? he asked but got nothing in return but a renewed terrified squeaking. The sight of the owl did give him an idea though.
Throwing himself into a sideways roll and summoning all his inspired concentration to cast Glitterdust in the air to confuse Zerome's sensors, Menek uses the one moment of earned respite to cast his Flight Hex and shoots through a gap in the waving appendages to flee. Zerome adjusted of course and tentacles shot out to catch him by his ankles but Menek was prepared. Gripping Ratbreak by the scruff of his (her?) neck Menek hurls the squawing ball of fur away from the madness as hard as he can. FLY you fo. is all Menek can get out before being dragged in to the insanity and gagged and trussed up more helpless than any time he could remember in life or in death.
ThLunarian
Member
((With apologies to Nezumi, I'm going to progress the story a bit. Nezumi, you still have plenty of time to catch up and write something if you'd like. If you feel that you just can't get to it any time soon then that's also fine))
Background Music 1
Satra wakes up, mildly dazed but cognizant of his surroundings. There is a robust tentacle wrapped firmly around each arm and leg, leaving his movement severely restricted. They have him suspended slightly off the ground.
He looks around. His four teammates are similarly restrained; Fleshbane looks battered, but there is a smaller tendril, of sorts, which is performing repairs to him. It's only another moment or two before that familiar red glow lights up, indicating that he is back online and conscious.
The voice speaks. It is disembodied, and echoes through speakers all over the room. The computer is inanimate, and the tentacles have no faces. In some ways it is almost as though the Observatory itself is speaking to you.
"We could not permit any of you to perish just yet," says Zerome, in that same matter-of-fact tone. "Despite your inferiority to us, each of you is nevertheless a prime specimen of your species, and there is a high probability that your continued existence could prove useful at a future time. However, there is one task that we must complete first."
One of the skinnier tentacles worms its way to Shulmor and reaches into his armor. After a brief search, it plucks the phylactery from his possession and crushes it. Shulmor's soul, against its will, returns to his undead body.
There is an accumulation of divine energy and a flash of white light. When the light subsides, Shulmor is no longer a mighty undead lich; life has been returned to his body. He is now a Drow - a living, breathing creature.
Background Music 2
"Initiate the Deicide Protocol," Zerome says, and it may be a moment before you realize that he is not talking to you; rather, he is talking to himself. Another moment passes, and then a torrent of magical energy floods the room, the Observatory, the plane, reality itself.
Everyone - even those without specially honed magical senses - can perceive this energy in some way, whether it takes the form of a warm glow, or a distinct, constant humming sound, or whether the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It has no noticeable effects on you or any of the prisoners (who used to be the party's staff).
The Raven Queen, however....
There is a piercing scream, and when you follow its direction, you spot the Raven Queen in front of the computer console, restrained by tentacles, much like the party. her body writhes in uncontrollable pain, and Menek can sense the divine energy being drained from her body. Rather than dissipating into the air, however, that energy is being drawn away toward a specific location - no doubt toward some foul machine meant to collect it, elsewhere in the facility.
The screaming lasts for less than a minute, but when it stops, the Raven Queen is not dead; the pain seems to have subsided.
Her divine energy is almost completely gone.
The suction-y sound of a powerful teleportation spell echoes through the chamber.
Standing (or on their hands and knees) in a line are various gods and goddesses. Their appearances are familiar, though anemic; Asmodeus stands barely five feet tall, Gruumsh is deflated, and can scarcely qualify to be called a demon; Heironeous does not even fill out his armor.
Melora is on her knees. Her hair is disheveled and she is frail and dazed. Arozora is nothing more than conjoined twins, who have a difficult time even keeping their balance. Vecna is scarcely recognizable, appearing as a squat, fat man who can scarcely hold his body up with his two underdeveloped legs. Again, Menek can sense what little divine energy remains in the gods, being drained elsewhere in the Observatory.
"This is what we have been working toward for the past year," Zerome explains, with only a hint of smugness in his voice. "To engineer radiation that could successfully separate the divine energy away from those who call themselves 'gods', to broadcast that radiation throughout the Astral Sea, and to harness that energy for ourselves. All in the name of bringing the perfection of uniformity to the entire multiverse. The Astral Sea will be just the beginning."
((This is only Part 1 of this scene, but I'm going to pause and allow for optional reactions. If you choose to do one, remember that you're still restrained and still exhausted of all of your powers for the day, and won't be able to really do anything except for talk.
I'll post Part 2 of this scene in a day or two, so you have that long to type something up if you'd like to))
Background Music 1
Satra wakes up, mildly dazed but cognizant of his surroundings. There is a robust tentacle wrapped firmly around each arm and leg, leaving his movement severely restricted. They have him suspended slightly off the ground.
He looks around. His four teammates are similarly restrained; Fleshbane looks battered, but there is a smaller tendril, of sorts, which is performing repairs to him. It's only another moment or two before that familiar red glow lights up, indicating that he is back online and conscious.
The voice speaks. It is disembodied, and echoes through speakers all over the room. The computer is inanimate, and the tentacles have no faces. In some ways it is almost as though the Observatory itself is speaking to you.
"We could not permit any of you to perish just yet," says Zerome, in that same matter-of-fact tone. "Despite your inferiority to us, each of you is nevertheless a prime specimen of your species, and there is a high probability that your continued existence could prove useful at a future time. However, there is one task that we must complete first."
One of the skinnier tentacles worms its way to Shulmor and reaches into his armor. After a brief search, it plucks the phylactery from his possession and crushes it. Shulmor's soul, against its will, returns to his undead body.
There is an accumulation of divine energy and a flash of white light. When the light subsides, Shulmor is no longer a mighty undead lich; life has been returned to his body. He is now a Drow - a living, breathing creature.
Background Music 2
"Initiate the Deicide Protocol," Zerome says, and it may be a moment before you realize that he is not talking to you; rather, he is talking to himself. Another moment passes, and then a torrent of magical energy floods the room, the Observatory, the plane, reality itself.
Everyone - even those without specially honed magical senses - can perceive this energy in some way, whether it takes the form of a warm glow, or a distinct, constant humming sound, or whether the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It has no noticeable effects on you or any of the prisoners (who used to be the party's staff).
The Raven Queen, however....
There is a piercing scream, and when you follow its direction, you spot the Raven Queen in front of the computer console, restrained by tentacles, much like the party. her body writhes in uncontrollable pain, and Menek can sense the divine energy being drained from her body. Rather than dissipating into the air, however, that energy is being drawn away toward a specific location - no doubt toward some foul machine meant to collect it, elsewhere in the facility.
The screaming lasts for less than a minute, but when it stops, the Raven Queen is not dead; the pain seems to have subsided.
Her divine energy is almost completely gone.
The suction-y sound of a powerful teleportation spell echoes through the chamber.
Standing (or on their hands and knees) in a line are various gods and goddesses. Their appearances are familiar, though anemic; Asmodeus stands barely five feet tall, Gruumsh is deflated, and can scarcely qualify to be called a demon; Heironeous does not even fill out his armor.
Melora is on her knees. Her hair is disheveled and she is frail and dazed. Arozora is nothing more than conjoined twins, who have a difficult time even keeping their balance. Vecna is scarcely recognizable, appearing as a squat, fat man who can scarcely hold his body up with his two underdeveloped legs. Again, Menek can sense what little divine energy remains in the gods, being drained elsewhere in the Observatory.
"This is what we have been working toward for the past year," Zerome explains, with only a hint of smugness in his voice. "To engineer radiation that could successfully separate the divine energy away from those who call themselves 'gods', to broadcast that radiation throughout the Astral Sea, and to harness that energy for ourselves. All in the name of bringing the perfection of uniformity to the entire multiverse. The Astral Sea will be just the beginning."
((This is only Part 1 of this scene, but I'm going to pause and allow for optional reactions. If you choose to do one, remember that you're still restrained and still exhausted of all of your powers for the day, and won't be able to really do anything except for talk.
I'll post Part 2 of this scene in a day or two, so you have that long to type something up if you'd like to))
((Cool. I still need to level up anyway. I liked everything posted so far. Satra's stuff especially KM, the origin story and his fall too. It may have been brief but it had impact and it fit))
Hanging from the tendrils Menek is overcome with a feeling of helplessness at seeing Arozora so diminished, but nevertheless had a thought.
And so transporting the Observatory to this magically bereft plane was meant to neutralize the Raven Queen and execute your plan hidden from the other gods?
Hanging from the tendrils Menek is overcome with a feeling of helplessness at seeing Arozora so diminished, but nevertheless had a thought.
And so transporting the Observatory to this magically bereft plane was meant to neutralize the Raven Queen and execute your plan hidden from the other gods?
((Haha, just finished writing. Might have gotten a little carried away there...))
When the metal demon shatters between Tessa's and her own jaws Viss takes a deep breath. Only Ozz was left now and she harbored the small hope that maybe, now that all the other enemies were gone, their former friend might finally come back to his senses and remember which side he was on.
The hope is short lived as the water elemental suddenly deliquesces into a small puddle on the floor. Before she has time to feel sorrow or sadness for their fallen comrade however, Zerome's voice echoes through the room and only moments later metal tentacles burst out from seemingly everywhere attacking the group.
Still hurt and exhausted from everything that has happened that day Viss gathers her strength for what she hopes is the last time for at least a few hours. Better keep the expectations low though.
Still in her beastly form she darts through the room tearing at the snakelike machines wherever she encounters them. The metal feels strange against her teeth and the sparks emitting from the torn cables produce small jolts of electricity on her tongue.
After a short time she realizes that the huge and bulging form of a dire-tiger is too slow to match the speed of the darting tentacles, when she is only barely able to escape from being engulfed entirely by the wiggling metallic mass she finally decides that it is time for a new strategy.
Evading tentacles left and right she propels herself in the air, willing her body in a different shape and a split moment later she has become a falcon. While this form might not provide her with the pure strength like the tiger it easily made up for it with speed and agility. Viss dives through the forest of tentacles as if she had never done anything else in her life. Without teeth and claws to attack she has to resort to other means of attacking though.
Ever since they had left that strange magicless land behind, Viss had finally been able to feel her link to Melora again. With the power of the goddess floating through her unhindered once again Viss falls into deep concentrations, her wings doing the flying as if on autopilot. All around her metal tentacles turned to wood making it seem for a moment as if she was indeed flying through a forest. She makes a turn and as she passes through another time the distorted wooden shapes burst into flames.
She can't help but feel a little jolt of ecstasy rush through her. This was Zerome's last stand? This was what he had come up with after studying them oh so thoroughly? This was nothing. She calls upon Melora's power once more and below her on the ground a herd of huge wild boars appeared. Galloping through the room they trample and rip out tentacles in their unstoppable stampede.
As she rolls in the air to evade another two tentacles attacking her she remembers the time she and Hartur had been hired by a harbor master. A giant kraken had been terrorizing the coast and the sea trade had almost entirely come to a stop thanks to the beast. Hartur had suggest that they simply kill the thing but Viss had declined. Big or not the kraken was after all as much a creature of nature as everyone else and it was only just that they would try other means of pacifying it first before they resorted to deadly force.
She had regretted that decision as she tried communicating with the thing in a desperate attempt to convince it to resettle and stop attacking boats all the while it did it best to strangle her in her dolphin form.
Still, in the end she had succeed and compared to this little venture a few metal snakes wouldn't be the end of her. They didn't even have suckers that would tear skin and flesh from your bone when you made the mistake of letting them touch you and, even more important, this time she had no reason to hold back as not to hurt her opponent.
Another group of tentacles turns rusty and brittle and crumbles to the floor in a heap of red dust as Viss flies past. Beasts appear and attack the tentacles and vanish again only to be replaced by powers of nature come to life, that crush, tear and rip the enemies apart where they find them.
But the onslaught doesn't stop. Like a hydra, it seems that for every tentacle that goes down, two dozen new appear. Soon the the fatigue she had pushed aside at the begin of the battle comes back crushing down on Viss with even more might then before. The wound that Brick had inflicted on her with the axe pulsates and hurts and when she takes a moment to check she realizes that the freshly healed tissue had burst open again in more then one place. The enemy itself might be no match for her, but it's numbers surely were.
Realizing that she needed to come up with another strategy Viss lets her eyes wander through the room to look for her comrades. They had to regroup and come up with a combined strategy. Her eyes darting from place to place but it is hart to make out anything in the chaos of slithering metal.
At last she spots Tessa, biting viciously at tentacles approaching her from all directions. Here and there she can spot a few cuts and slashes but other than that the dinosaur seems to be holding up just fine. Viss goes into a dive ready to land next to her friend, together they will search the room for the rest of their allies, as she notices something strange in the movement of the tentacles. Where before the things had mostly act as small individual entities attacking persistently but without real coordination a group of them suddenly comes together encircling Tessa from all sides.
It is as if Viss can see the next moments already playing in her head before they have happened in reality. A scream forms in her throat but she isn't able to finish it before at least ten tentacles at once bolt forward, their sharp tips pointing at the dinosaur.
Tessa whirls around with a howl but she is to slow by far, for the two tentacles she is able to rip free and that are left twitching between her jaws, the others pierce through her where she stands.
Viss can only watch as the light in her friends eyes slowly dies away and her massive body collapses to the floor.
Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!
Still in the shape of a bird of prey the word only comes out as a shrill, ear piercing shriek echoing through the room. Viss lands next to Tessa's body as more and more tentacles encroach on her. She transforms back to the massive shape of a diretiger, ripping out tentacles where she finds them. All her plans of a new strategy are forgotten as the pain over her friends death slowly but steadily creeps through her system, consuming her until she does nothing more than blindly snap at everything in her path, sometimes tentacles sometimes air.
What have I done wrong? What did I do to deserve this? Why can't things be good for once? Do I have to loose everything I love?
The thoughts only pass her mind briefly, intermixed with flickering memories, surfacing and sinking again. Training with Curai, hunting with Tessa, sitting at a campfire with Hartur. Menek giving a lecture, Sybils warm and calm smile. Mako taking over the kitchen and making stew. Ciel smirking as a coin dances over her fingers. Satra handing her a potion to calm her stomach. Even Fleshbane, boasting about the superiority of machines, maybe he had been right after all, and Shulmor. All of her friends and partners, entangled in a whirling maelstrom of memories.
She doesn't even remember when she'd stopped fighting, when she had transformed herself back to her normal self, fur thick with blood in several places, the tip of her tail severed. It is too much The thought hammers though her head over and over again. She just wants it to stop. Wants it to end. Satra had been right, what choice do they have than blow everything up, tear this place apart and expunge it from the very fabric of existence.
She can feel the power welling up in her. Can feel it pulsing through her. She will end this. She will end this now. She takes a deep breath, not even aware of the tentacle piercing through her thigh. Pain has become only but a faint memory. Everything was but a faint memory. The only thing that mattered now was power. The power to tear it all to bits. Screw this whole damnable existence, let it all go to hell.
Her head seems to burst as she draws in more and more energy. A trickle of blood runs down from her nose, It doesn't matter. It never mattered. It will be over soon. She will end it. Here and now. She can already feel the floor trembling beneath her feet, cracks appearing in the tiles.
And then, suddenly, everything stops. The ruckus of the battle becomes nothing more than a faint echo in the distance and all around her the chaos of the battle is frozen in place.
Stop it child.
The voice seems to come from everywhere at once and it takes Viss a few moment to recognize it.
Oldoraphon?
Instead of receiving an answer suddenly the world around her changes once again. Feeling as if she is flung out of her body Viss seems to tumble between time and space.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sprout has only barely buried himself out of the earth. It had been a strenuous task but finally out in the open he gets to breath and there are rays of light filling him with energy. It feels so good. He stretches and stretches. He wants more of the light.
He isn't alone. All around him his brothers and sisters, hundreds of them, stretch and grow just as he does. Eager for every sunny spot they do their best branch out wherever they can, unfolding leaves here, sprouting another branch there. Oldoraphon is talented. While he witnesses some of his siblings wither and die as they branch out too eager too early and others never managing to grow past their sapling stage, he seems to instinctively now when it was time to grow and when it was wiser to save his strength, only to quickly slip a few branches into a gap left by a less successful opponent.
For the more fast paced beings of creation the notion might seem ridiculous but the first decades of Oldoraphon life had been nothing but struggle. He had witnessed all to often what happened to those that didn't fight. In the thick forest around him life could end fast. Who didn't keep up died. Such were the rules. But Oldarophon wasn't one of them. He was strong. He was smart. Soon he would be up there, up in the carapace. He would be one of the great ones, he would never have to worry about light.
He had enjoyed his life among the great trees for several hundred of years when he saw the signs of change approach. By now he had grown taller and wider than every other tree in the forest. His roots reached for hundreds of yards. Stretching through the earth. Nothing escaped his notice. No worm tunneling past, no bird flying overhead. This was his forest. And so he also noticed the smoke in the distance rising more and more often and it wasn't long after this that he felt unfamiliar tremors shake the ground beneath him. Soon woodland creatures brought him distressful news, from the borders. News of fire and metal.
But there was nothing that he could do. For the first time in his long life Oldaraphon could but only watch as his home around him slowly vanished, square by square. What once had been a vast forest soon was nothing more than a grove next to the human settlement.
In this days Oldaraphon raged and cursed those human intruders. He wished for nothing more than to crush them, but for all the cunning and endurance he had shown until here, it didn't help him anything in this new and unfamiliar situation. Oh, how he hated those humans with their axes and their fires, robbing him of his realm. But all the hatred in the world meant nothing and so he was left to watch as even the grove became smaller and smaller with each passing of the sun.
When he finally couldn't watch any longer he closed his eyes. Shutting out all of his surroundings he turned his thoughts inward, awaiting his death by the hands of the intruders.
How much time past he couldn't tell. Decades? Certainly, Centuries? Maybe. It didn't matter. But when after all this time, Oldoraphon opened his eyes once again, there was nothing of the forest left anymore. There were still birds swooping through the air and nestling in his branches and beneath his roots worms and insects still crawled through the ground, but no matter how far he looked there was not another tree in sight.
For a long time sorrow consumed his thoughts. What a cruel fate, to be left alone as the last of his kind. Why had those damned creatures not at least granted him to die with his brethren.
But even the deepest sorrow passes. And soon Oldoraphon started to take more and more interest in his surroundings again. Sure this strange, landscape of dead wood and stone was strange and alien compared to his former home but it was filled with life nonetheless.
In those times he was standing in the center of a wide square, the only thing towering above him was a massive building. On it's top, much to his surprise, a piece of cloth waved in the wind. A piece of cloth that had painted on it a picture of him. Soon he realized that the people, living in this city, for this was what the strange landscape was called, seemed to worship him. Every few weeks they held feasts in the square where they danced below his leaves and hung him with colorful paper stripes.
More and more Oldoraphon grew to like those creatures. He learned listening to their speech and understanding what they were saying. He fell in love with all the little stories taking place in his shadow. Lovers pledging to be together for always. Children playing games. There was a pair of old man that sat against his trunk almost daily, seemingly arguing about their different opinions about the nature of all things. Oldoraphon loved listening to those two especially, and was saddened when the short life of humans took them from him.
But as short as the lives of his humans were, the longer was Oldoraphon's. And when you lead such a long life change is always just around the corner.
Once more change announced itself with smoke in the far of distance. This time there were no birds whispering in his ears. No squirrels, skittering in panic. But he could still feel the change in the way the human hushed and whispered to each other. War, they whispered. War is coming.
And war came. And the city burned. Oldoraphon heard the screams and he saw his people die. He saw the enemy coming through the gates. People that looked no different then the ones he head learned to love. And he could do nothing. Saddened and heartbroken he could only watch as blood and flames filled the streets above his roots and had he had real eyes he would have cried to wash the blood away and extinguish the flames.
Eventually the flames dies and the world was silent. Smoke still rose from the ruins of the palace that had once towered over Oldoraphon. Now only rubble remained.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Viss tumbles to space and time. One moment she is herself kneeling on the floor in the observatory, the next she is Oldarophon, watching as the ruins around him rise again only to be destroyed again. An endless circle. Going on and on forever as it seems. She experiences his powerlessness in the face of despair and his happiness in moments of renewal. Hate and love. Sorrow and joy. And above them all hope. Hope that turned into faith.
Faith, child.
The swirling stops and time starts running again. The sound of the battle still rings in her ears. Viss watches motionless as a group of tentacles dart towards her. She doesn't react. She closes her eyes.
Faith.
When the metal demon shatters between Tessa's and her own jaws Viss takes a deep breath. Only Ozz was left now and she harbored the small hope that maybe, now that all the other enemies were gone, their former friend might finally come back to his senses and remember which side he was on.
The hope is short lived as the water elemental suddenly deliquesces into a small puddle on the floor. Before she has time to feel sorrow or sadness for their fallen comrade however, Zerome's voice echoes through the room and only moments later metal tentacles burst out from seemingly everywhere attacking the group.
Still hurt and exhausted from everything that has happened that day Viss gathers her strength for what she hopes is the last time for at least a few hours. Better keep the expectations low though.
Still in her beastly form she darts through the room tearing at the snakelike machines wherever she encounters them. The metal feels strange against her teeth and the sparks emitting from the torn cables produce small jolts of electricity on her tongue.
After a short time she realizes that the huge and bulging form of a dire-tiger is too slow to match the speed of the darting tentacles, when she is only barely able to escape from being engulfed entirely by the wiggling metallic mass she finally decides that it is time for a new strategy.
Evading tentacles left and right she propels herself in the air, willing her body in a different shape and a split moment later she has become a falcon. While this form might not provide her with the pure strength like the tiger it easily made up for it with speed and agility. Viss dives through the forest of tentacles as if she had never done anything else in her life. Without teeth and claws to attack she has to resort to other means of attacking though.
Ever since they had left that strange magicless land behind, Viss had finally been able to feel her link to Melora again. With the power of the goddess floating through her unhindered once again Viss falls into deep concentrations, her wings doing the flying as if on autopilot. All around her metal tentacles turned to wood making it seem for a moment as if she was indeed flying through a forest. She makes a turn and as she passes through another time the distorted wooden shapes burst into flames.
She can't help but feel a little jolt of ecstasy rush through her. This was Zerome's last stand? This was what he had come up with after studying them oh so thoroughly? This was nothing. She calls upon Melora's power once more and below her on the ground a herd of huge wild boars appeared. Galloping through the room they trample and rip out tentacles in their unstoppable stampede.
As she rolls in the air to evade another two tentacles attacking her she remembers the time she and Hartur had been hired by a harbor master. A giant kraken had been terrorizing the coast and the sea trade had almost entirely come to a stop thanks to the beast. Hartur had suggest that they simply kill the thing but Viss had declined. Big or not the kraken was after all as much a creature of nature as everyone else and it was only just that they would try other means of pacifying it first before they resorted to deadly force.
She had regretted that decision as she tried communicating with the thing in a desperate attempt to convince it to resettle and stop attacking boats all the while it did it best to strangle her in her dolphin form.
Still, in the end she had succeed and compared to this little venture a few metal snakes wouldn't be the end of her. They didn't even have suckers that would tear skin and flesh from your bone when you made the mistake of letting them touch you and, even more important, this time she had no reason to hold back as not to hurt her opponent.
Another group of tentacles turns rusty and brittle and crumbles to the floor in a heap of red dust as Viss flies past. Beasts appear and attack the tentacles and vanish again only to be replaced by powers of nature come to life, that crush, tear and rip the enemies apart where they find them.
But the onslaught doesn't stop. Like a hydra, it seems that for every tentacle that goes down, two dozen new appear. Soon the the fatigue she had pushed aside at the begin of the battle comes back crushing down on Viss with even more might then before. The wound that Brick had inflicted on her with the axe pulsates and hurts and when she takes a moment to check she realizes that the freshly healed tissue had burst open again in more then one place. The enemy itself might be no match for her, but it's numbers surely were.
Realizing that she needed to come up with another strategy Viss lets her eyes wander through the room to look for her comrades. They had to regroup and come up with a combined strategy. Her eyes darting from place to place but it is hart to make out anything in the chaos of slithering metal.
At last she spots Tessa, biting viciously at tentacles approaching her from all directions. Here and there she can spot a few cuts and slashes but other than that the dinosaur seems to be holding up just fine. Viss goes into a dive ready to land next to her friend, together they will search the room for the rest of their allies, as she notices something strange in the movement of the tentacles. Where before the things had mostly act as small individual entities attacking persistently but without real coordination a group of them suddenly comes together encircling Tessa from all sides.
It is as if Viss can see the next moments already playing in her head before they have happened in reality. A scream forms in her throat but she isn't able to finish it before at least ten tentacles at once bolt forward, their sharp tips pointing at the dinosaur.
Tessa whirls around with a howl but she is to slow by far, for the two tentacles she is able to rip free and that are left twitching between her jaws, the others pierce through her where she stands.
Viss can only watch as the light in her friends eyes slowly dies away and her massive body collapses to the floor.
Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!
Still in the shape of a bird of prey the word only comes out as a shrill, ear piercing shriek echoing through the room. Viss lands next to Tessa's body as more and more tentacles encroach on her. She transforms back to the massive shape of a diretiger, ripping out tentacles where she finds them. All her plans of a new strategy are forgotten as the pain over her friends death slowly but steadily creeps through her system, consuming her until she does nothing more than blindly snap at everything in her path, sometimes tentacles sometimes air.
What have I done wrong? What did I do to deserve this? Why can't things be good for once? Do I have to loose everything I love?
The thoughts only pass her mind briefly, intermixed with flickering memories, surfacing and sinking again. Training with Curai, hunting with Tessa, sitting at a campfire with Hartur. Menek giving a lecture, Sybils warm and calm smile. Mako taking over the kitchen and making stew. Ciel smirking as a coin dances over her fingers. Satra handing her a potion to calm her stomach. Even Fleshbane, boasting about the superiority of machines, maybe he had been right after all, and Shulmor. All of her friends and partners, entangled in a whirling maelstrom of memories.
She doesn't even remember when she'd stopped fighting, when she had transformed herself back to her normal self, fur thick with blood in several places, the tip of her tail severed. It is too much The thought hammers though her head over and over again. She just wants it to stop. Wants it to end. Satra had been right, what choice do they have than blow everything up, tear this place apart and expunge it from the very fabric of existence.
She can feel the power welling up in her. Can feel it pulsing through her. She will end this. She will end this now. She takes a deep breath, not even aware of the tentacle piercing through her thigh. Pain has become only but a faint memory. Everything was but a faint memory. The only thing that mattered now was power. The power to tear it all to bits. Screw this whole damnable existence, let it all go to hell.
Her head seems to burst as she draws in more and more energy. A trickle of blood runs down from her nose, It doesn't matter. It never mattered. It will be over soon. She will end it. Here and now. She can already feel the floor trembling beneath her feet, cracks appearing in the tiles.
And then, suddenly, everything stops. The ruckus of the battle becomes nothing more than a faint echo in the distance and all around her the chaos of the battle is frozen in place.
Stop it child.
The voice seems to come from everywhere at once and it takes Viss a few moment to recognize it.
Oldoraphon?
Instead of receiving an answer suddenly the world around her changes once again. Feeling as if she is flung out of her body Viss seems to tumble between time and space.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sprout has only barely buried himself out of the earth. It had been a strenuous task but finally out in the open he gets to breath and there are rays of light filling him with energy. It feels so good. He stretches and stretches. He wants more of the light.
He isn't alone. All around him his brothers and sisters, hundreds of them, stretch and grow just as he does. Eager for every sunny spot they do their best branch out wherever they can, unfolding leaves here, sprouting another branch there. Oldoraphon is talented. While he witnesses some of his siblings wither and die as they branch out too eager too early and others never managing to grow past their sapling stage, he seems to instinctively now when it was time to grow and when it was wiser to save his strength, only to quickly slip a few branches into a gap left by a less successful opponent.
For the more fast paced beings of creation the notion might seem ridiculous but the first decades of Oldoraphon life had been nothing but struggle. He had witnessed all to often what happened to those that didn't fight. In the thick forest around him life could end fast. Who didn't keep up died. Such were the rules. But Oldarophon wasn't one of them. He was strong. He was smart. Soon he would be up there, up in the carapace. He would be one of the great ones, he would never have to worry about light.
He had enjoyed his life among the great trees for several hundred of years when he saw the signs of change approach. By now he had grown taller and wider than every other tree in the forest. His roots reached for hundreds of yards. Stretching through the earth. Nothing escaped his notice. No worm tunneling past, no bird flying overhead. This was his forest. And so he also noticed the smoke in the distance rising more and more often and it wasn't long after this that he felt unfamiliar tremors shake the ground beneath him. Soon woodland creatures brought him distressful news, from the borders. News of fire and metal.
But there was nothing that he could do. For the first time in his long life Oldaraphon could but only watch as his home around him slowly vanished, square by square. What once had been a vast forest soon was nothing more than a grove next to the human settlement.
In this days Oldaraphon raged and cursed those human intruders. He wished for nothing more than to crush them, but for all the cunning and endurance he had shown until here, it didn't help him anything in this new and unfamiliar situation. Oh, how he hated those humans with their axes and their fires, robbing him of his realm. But all the hatred in the world meant nothing and so he was left to watch as even the grove became smaller and smaller with each passing of the sun.
When he finally couldn't watch any longer he closed his eyes. Shutting out all of his surroundings he turned his thoughts inward, awaiting his death by the hands of the intruders.
How much time past he couldn't tell. Decades? Certainly, Centuries? Maybe. It didn't matter. But when after all this time, Oldoraphon opened his eyes once again, there was nothing of the forest left anymore. There were still birds swooping through the air and nestling in his branches and beneath his roots worms and insects still crawled through the ground, but no matter how far he looked there was not another tree in sight.
For a long time sorrow consumed his thoughts. What a cruel fate, to be left alone as the last of his kind. Why had those damned creatures not at least granted him to die with his brethren.
But even the deepest sorrow passes. And soon Oldoraphon started to take more and more interest in his surroundings again. Sure this strange, landscape of dead wood and stone was strange and alien compared to his former home but it was filled with life nonetheless.
In those times he was standing in the center of a wide square, the only thing towering above him was a massive building. On it's top, much to his surprise, a piece of cloth waved in the wind. A piece of cloth that had painted on it a picture of him. Soon he realized that the people, living in this city, for this was what the strange landscape was called, seemed to worship him. Every few weeks they held feasts in the square where they danced below his leaves and hung him with colorful paper stripes.
More and more Oldoraphon grew to like those creatures. He learned listening to their speech and understanding what they were saying. He fell in love with all the little stories taking place in his shadow. Lovers pledging to be together for always. Children playing games. There was a pair of old man that sat against his trunk almost daily, seemingly arguing about their different opinions about the nature of all things. Oldoraphon loved listening to those two especially, and was saddened when the short life of humans took them from him.
But as short as the lives of his humans were, the longer was Oldoraphon's. And when you lead such a long life change is always just around the corner.
Once more change announced itself with smoke in the far of distance. This time there were no birds whispering in his ears. No squirrels, skittering in panic. But he could still feel the change in the way the human hushed and whispered to each other. War, they whispered. War is coming.
And war came. And the city burned. Oldoraphon heard the screams and he saw his people die. He saw the enemy coming through the gates. People that looked no different then the ones he head learned to love. And he could do nothing. Saddened and heartbroken he could only watch as blood and flames filled the streets above his roots and had he had real eyes he would have cried to wash the blood away and extinguish the flames.
Eventually the flames dies and the world was silent. Smoke still rose from the ruins of the palace that had once towered over Oldoraphon. Now only rubble remained.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Viss tumbles to space and time. One moment she is herself kneeling on the floor in the observatory, the next she is Oldarophon, watching as the ruins around him rise again only to be destroyed again. An endless circle. Going on and on forever as it seems. She experiences his powerlessness in the face of despair and his happiness in moments of renewal. Hate and love. Sorrow and joy. And above them all hope. Hope that turned into faith.
Faith, child.
The swirling stops and time starts running again. The sound of the battle still rings in her ears. Viss watches motionless as a group of tentacles dart towards her. She doesn't react. She closes her eyes.
Faith.
ThLunarian
Member
((Wow.That was freaking fantastic Nezumi, thank you for sharing it))
KittenMaster
Member
<Yeah, I'm not even a fraction of the writer you are. Great stuff.
Also, thanks Azih, though in hindsight Satra's backstory is probably a bit unintentionally creepy>
Also, thanks Azih, though in hindsight Satra's backstory is probably a bit unintentionally creepy
>
KittenMaster
Member
<Alright, done playing Xenoblade X for the day (which is like Star Trek: The JRPG with a bunch of cool aliens and their culture). Time to write up a reaction>
As Satra's life finally ceases flashing before his eyes in wake of the blinding explosion, an incessant ringing in his ears is gradually overtaken by a vision of Ricard in his head, kneeling in front of his body bound by the metal wraps nearly pulling him apart, a vision of Ricard continuing to mock his well being by explaining in a monotone buzz, "Despite your inferiority to us, each of you is nevertheless a prime specimen of your species, and there is a high probability that your continued existence could prove useful at a future time." Halfway through that speech, his thoughts become a blur, the blur becoming his vision coming to. Not at ease with what he's told, Satra sarcastically remarks with a groan as his head turns wearily, "There's a first time for everything.."
'However, there is one task that we must complete first,' he hears, but by this time Satra can finally recognize that the inhuman sound is in fact the Zerome terminal, and by this time he is able to realize the state that he is put in. Somehow the machine must've taken the pipe-bomb away before it could rip him to shreds and melt his skin he thinks, they're being toyed with, for the second time his life is at the mercy of another.
The whistling in his ear soon meshes with a whirring hum, followed by a shrieking scream and the unwelcome display of mangled, hollowed gods humiliated by the machine.
As Satra's life finally ceases flashing before his eyes in wake of the blinding explosion, an incessant ringing in his ears is gradually overtaken by a vision of Ricard in his head, kneeling in front of his body bound by the metal wraps nearly pulling him apart, a vision of Ricard continuing to mock his well being by explaining in a monotone buzz, "Despite your inferiority to us, each of you is nevertheless a prime specimen of your species, and there is a high probability that your continued existence could prove useful at a future time." Halfway through that speech, his thoughts become a blur, the blur becoming his vision coming to. Not at ease with what he's told, Satra sarcastically remarks with a groan as his head turns wearily, "There's a first time for everything.."
'However, there is one task that we must complete first,' he hears, but by this time Satra can finally recognize that the inhuman sound is in fact the Zerome terminal, and by this time he is able to realize the state that he is put in. Somehow the machine must've taken the pipe-bomb away before it could rip him to shreds and melt his skin he thinks, they're being toyed with, for the second time his life is at the mercy of another.
The whistling in his ear soon meshes with a whirring hum, followed by a shrieking scream and the unwelcome display of mangled, hollowed gods humiliated by the machine.
"A literal 'God in the Machine'," Satra mutters with an irritated snark. He can't help but think.. was this what Ioun feared mankind knowing about? Was this the ultimate technology?
Axelhortsemchi
Member
((Yeah, that was incredible Nezumi. Oldaraphon has quite the history.
I liked Satra's history too, that was good stuff. Though once you mentioned it being creepy, all I could think of was this XD. And yeah, I still need to play Xenoblade Chronicles and X. My backlog's pretty out of hand. Well, now that I have some time, guess I should get a response out there.))
Shulmor is all too aware of what is about to happen as the tentacle extracts his phylactery. He only has time to yell out a short "NO!" before it is crushed.
When the light fades, the lich is no more. In his place is a Drow with a lean build. The green fire in empty sockets has given away to green eyes set on a face straddling the border between youth and middle age. Like most Drow, his hair is white and mid-back length. Unlike most Drow, there is a goatee to go along with it.
He looks utterly defeated, and while he sees the plight of the gods and his patron in particular before him, their dire situation registers as background noise in the face of his forced resurrection. Attempting to still show no weakness, attempts to speak with defiance towards the machine god.
"You will regret." He is only able to get a few words out before falling into a violent fit of coughing, sputtering blood over the tentacles around him. The return of a body of flesh and blood means the return of his heart condition.
--------
All is quiet on the surface of Drazhan. A soft breeze blows flakes of salt over a white landscape. Animals adorn what used to be grass, their final stare into the sky forever frozen in place. In the background lies what used to be the city of the planet's central government, now little more than a great pillar of salt in the shape of a city.
The silence is broken by a large carrier touching down on the field. Shulmor disembarks with a small unit of heavily armed soldiers and his second in command, a four-armed reptilian humanoid standing about seven feet tall. Sezrethys, the reptilian, is filling Shulmor in on the success of the operation as they head to the designated point where the surviving remnants of the government will offer an unconditional surrender. "As you can see my lord, the chlorination ray was a complete success. The casualties of Drazhan's populace are estimated to be as low as 5% of the working population, and as the remnants of the leadership are now aware that reinforcements from Atman Republic won't be coming, they have lost all will to resist. There should be no issues in the formalities of surrender."
"Good, good," replies Shulmor. "With that, we have struck a great blow against the next largest remaining interplanetary government in this star cluster. It is only a manner of time before they are annexed in their entirety into *cough* *cough*" "Are you all right, my lord?" Sezrethys asks with some concern, as this cough of Shulmor's has been going on for a while, despite the Drow's insistence that he's fine. Sure enough, Shulmor says it is nothing.
The handing over of power to Shulmor goes smoothly and without incident. The day seems a success, until Shulmor collapses in his seat on the way back to the carrier, his coughing now accompanied by profuse blood loss. The white, snow-like scene of the decimated field is streaked with crimson, a more literal cost of blood to go with the eerily clinical mass killing caused by chlorination ray. Shulmor black out before they can make it back to the carrier.
He comes to in an emergency medical bay, attached to advanced medical equipment and within the field of a healing spell. Attending doctors frantically proclaiming that Shulmor has regained consciousness. Sezrethys is by his side quickly, his blank white eyes somehow conveying concern. "My lord, from what the medical staff has gathered, you have a rare and terminal heart defect. Left untreated, you have days to live. We of course have the means to stave it off. Healing serums and spells will force it into remission, and with polymorph surgery we could get rid of it all together. However, reports from healing staff versed on the condition suggest that it is tied to your very being. Unless the very fabric of who you are is changed, any new heart prepared for you will gradually deteriorate and each one will do so quicker than the last. I regret to say that without altering you on a fundamental level, you have fifty years at most left."
Shulmor takes a moment to process this, and replies with an air of calm, as if he has come to peace with something. "You know as well as I do that alterations to my metaphysical essence are not an option. It is the will of the universe to belong to Shulmor, not an amnesiac shadow of myself. To alter anything non-physical would have the same end result as my death." He pauses for a moment. "The question of my mortality would have eventually risen anyway, this condition has merely forced the matter much sooner than expected. I have previously expressed my reservations with the idea, but given the circumstances, it seems I must reconsider if I am to continue forward as the ruler of the cosmos. Sezrethys, I hereby authorize the commencement of Operation Radiant Coffin. You have all the resources of Shulmoria at your disposal." Overcome by the gravity of the situation, Sezrethys drops to his knees, kneeling before Shulmor's hospital bed. "I shall commence at once, my lord."
.
.
.
Sezrethys was a wizard of immense power, and with the resources of an interstellar empire before him, the process of aiding Shulmor in crafting a phylactery was significantly expedited. A significant portion of the five year period was spent with Shulmor working on internalizing the flow of negative energy his dark powers gave him access to. His soul was gradually transferred over as the internal flow became more stable, leading to a gradual increase in undead-like appearance.
The final step of the process took place upon a sepulcher-class cruise ship built specifically for the conclusion of Shulmor's ascent to lichdom. Under extensive monitoring by Sezrethys and the most powerful necromancers the empire had to offer, Shulmor stood in the middle of a blood-filled circle, surrounded by twenty volunteers who would give their lives to complete the ritual.
Given the size of the empire, finding volunteers as opposed to "volunteers" was an easy matter. Descendants of necromancers rescued from the brutal crushing of the genocide of all presences seen as evil on the planet Elderia made up several of the volunteers. A few grateful representatives of a dwarven obstronium mining company saved from an unexpected Tarrasque attack were present as well. Some of the loyal drow from Shulmor's initial uprising rounded out the final portion of the majority, with assorted grateful citizen and loyalists making up the remainder.
At Shulmor's signal, he clasped the phylactery as the twenty volunteers pressed the button on the panel placed in front of each of them. A pillar of flame consumed each as a bright light filled the entirety of the room. The blinding light quickly gave way to a dull darkness permeating the room. The fluctuation in brightness eventually settled, with all of the chamber save the center returning to normal brightness. The twenty volunteers were gone, and in the center of the room stood an imposing lich, his already powerful presence now overwhelming.
"You have done well, the ritual was a success. Now is the time for celebration of a job well done, but we have much to discuss later about the bright future ahead of us all. The reign of Shulmor shall be eternal."
--------
Shulmor's coughing fit eventually subsides, and with blood dripping from his lip, he looks up towards Zerome, trying to fathom its motives. It always comes down to assimilation or destruction for AIs. This is why he makes it a policy to destroy artificial minds when they gain self awareness; for every one genocidal maniac you can make use of, there are ten that can't be reasoned with at all. Still struggling to readjust to his frail body, he weakly questions the machine.
"Why? With all the power you wield, why do you seek uniformity? Do you mean assimilation so that all is Zerome and Zerome is all? Why... why assimilate when you can subjugate? If you make everything yours, you will be alone in the multiverse. There will be nothing left for you, only yourself at every place. There will be no one besides you to acknowledge the perfection you have achieved, nothing left to maintain save trivial system diagnostics. You will be lord over nothing. The supreme lord of a multiverse that is nothing but yourself. What satisfaction is there in that? Where do you go after reaching your goal?" Shulmor is unable to continue his questioning as he falls into another bloody coughing fit.
I liked Satra's history too, that was good stuff. Though once you mentioned it being creepy, all I could think of was this XD. And yeah, I still need to play Xenoblade Chronicles and X. My backlog's pretty out of hand. Well, now that I have some time, guess I should get a response out there.))
Shulmor is all too aware of what is about to happen as the tentacle extracts his phylactery. He only has time to yell out a short "NO!" before it is crushed.
When the light fades, the lich is no more. In his place is a Drow with a lean build. The green fire in empty sockets has given away to green eyes set on a face straddling the border between youth and middle age. Like most Drow, his hair is white and mid-back length. Unlike most Drow, there is a goatee to go along with it.
He looks utterly defeated, and while he sees the plight of the gods and his patron in particular before him, their dire situation registers as background noise in the face of his forced resurrection. Attempting to still show no weakness, attempts to speak with defiance towards the machine god.
"You will regret." He is only able to get a few words out before falling into a violent fit of coughing, sputtering blood over the tentacles around him. The return of a body of flesh and blood means the return of his heart condition.
--------
All is quiet on the surface of Drazhan. A soft breeze blows flakes of salt over a white landscape. Animals adorn what used to be grass, their final stare into the sky forever frozen in place. In the background lies what used to be the city of the planet's central government, now little more than a great pillar of salt in the shape of a city.
The silence is broken by a large carrier touching down on the field. Shulmor disembarks with a small unit of heavily armed soldiers and his second in command, a four-armed reptilian humanoid standing about seven feet tall. Sezrethys, the reptilian, is filling Shulmor in on the success of the operation as they head to the designated point where the surviving remnants of the government will offer an unconditional surrender. "As you can see my lord, the chlorination ray was a complete success. The casualties of Drazhan's populace are estimated to be as low as 5% of the working population, and as the remnants of the leadership are now aware that reinforcements from Atman Republic won't be coming, they have lost all will to resist. There should be no issues in the formalities of surrender."
"Good, good," replies Shulmor. "With that, we have struck a great blow against the next largest remaining interplanetary government in this star cluster. It is only a manner of time before they are annexed in their entirety into *cough* *cough*" "Are you all right, my lord?" Sezrethys asks with some concern, as this cough of Shulmor's has been going on for a while, despite the Drow's insistence that he's fine. Sure enough, Shulmor says it is nothing.
The handing over of power to Shulmor goes smoothly and without incident. The day seems a success, until Shulmor collapses in his seat on the way back to the carrier, his coughing now accompanied by profuse blood loss. The white, snow-like scene of the decimated field is streaked with crimson, a more literal cost of blood to go with the eerily clinical mass killing caused by chlorination ray. Shulmor black out before they can make it back to the carrier.
He comes to in an emergency medical bay, attached to advanced medical equipment and within the field of a healing spell. Attending doctors frantically proclaiming that Shulmor has regained consciousness. Sezrethys is by his side quickly, his blank white eyes somehow conveying concern. "My lord, from what the medical staff has gathered, you have a rare and terminal heart defect. Left untreated, you have days to live. We of course have the means to stave it off. Healing serums and spells will force it into remission, and with polymorph surgery we could get rid of it all together. However, reports from healing staff versed on the condition suggest that it is tied to your very being. Unless the very fabric of who you are is changed, any new heart prepared for you will gradually deteriorate and each one will do so quicker than the last. I regret to say that without altering you on a fundamental level, you have fifty years at most left."
Shulmor takes a moment to process this, and replies with an air of calm, as if he has come to peace with something. "You know as well as I do that alterations to my metaphysical essence are not an option. It is the will of the universe to belong to Shulmor, not an amnesiac shadow of myself. To alter anything non-physical would have the same end result as my death." He pauses for a moment. "The question of my mortality would have eventually risen anyway, this condition has merely forced the matter much sooner than expected. I have previously expressed my reservations with the idea, but given the circumstances, it seems I must reconsider if I am to continue forward as the ruler of the cosmos. Sezrethys, I hereby authorize the commencement of Operation Radiant Coffin. You have all the resources of Shulmoria at your disposal." Overcome by the gravity of the situation, Sezrethys drops to his knees, kneeling before Shulmor's hospital bed. "I shall commence at once, my lord."
.
.
.
Sezrethys was a wizard of immense power, and with the resources of an interstellar empire before him, the process of aiding Shulmor in crafting a phylactery was significantly expedited. A significant portion of the five year period was spent with Shulmor working on internalizing the flow of negative energy his dark powers gave him access to. His soul was gradually transferred over as the internal flow became more stable, leading to a gradual increase in undead-like appearance.
The final step of the process took place upon a sepulcher-class cruise ship built specifically for the conclusion of Shulmor's ascent to lichdom. Under extensive monitoring by Sezrethys and the most powerful necromancers the empire had to offer, Shulmor stood in the middle of a blood-filled circle, surrounded by twenty volunteers who would give their lives to complete the ritual.
Given the size of the empire, finding volunteers as opposed to "volunteers" was an easy matter. Descendants of necromancers rescued from the brutal crushing of the genocide of all presences seen as evil on the planet Elderia made up several of the volunteers. A few grateful representatives of a dwarven obstronium mining company saved from an unexpected Tarrasque attack were present as well. Some of the loyal drow from Shulmor's initial uprising rounded out the final portion of the majority, with assorted grateful citizen and loyalists making up the remainder.
At Shulmor's signal, he clasped the phylactery as the twenty volunteers pressed the button on the panel placed in front of each of them. A pillar of flame consumed each as a bright light filled the entirety of the room. The blinding light quickly gave way to a dull darkness permeating the room. The fluctuation in brightness eventually settled, with all of the chamber save the center returning to normal brightness. The twenty volunteers were gone, and in the center of the room stood an imposing lich, his already powerful presence now overwhelming.
"You have done well, the ritual was a success. Now is the time for celebration of a job well done, but we have much to discuss later about the bright future ahead of us all. The reign of Shulmor shall be eternal."
--------
Shulmor's coughing fit eventually subsides, and with blood dripping from his lip, he looks up towards Zerome, trying to fathom its motives. It always comes down to assimilation or destruction for AIs. This is why he makes it a policy to destroy artificial minds when they gain self awareness; for every one genocidal maniac you can make use of, there are ten that can't be reasoned with at all. Still struggling to readjust to his frail body, he weakly questions the machine.
"Why? With all the power you wield, why do you seek uniformity? Do you mean assimilation so that all is Zerome and Zerome is all? Why... why assimilate when you can subjugate? If you make everything yours, you will be alone in the multiverse. There will be nothing left for you, only yourself at every place. There will be no one besides you to acknowledge the perfection you have achieved, nothing left to maintain save trivial system diagnostics. You will be lord over nothing. The supreme lord of a multiverse that is nothing but yourself. What satisfaction is there in that? Where do you go after reaching your goal?" Shulmor is unable to continue his questioning as he falls into another bloody coughing fit.
ThLunarian
Member
"The Raven Queen was merely a vessel for experimentation," Zerome indulges Menek's query. "It is thanks to her as my specimen that we were able to perfect our plan."
To Shulmor: "Subjugation is inefficient," it says. "We do not consume; we absorb. The sum total of all knowledge of every machine, living creature, and, soon, deity, is available to us. We are not one; we are many. And it is only a matter of years before we are able to assimilate all of reality."
"NO!" the Raven Queen suddenly screams. She stands defiantly, and it is plain that she is not in quite so bad shape as the rest of the gods. "It CANNOT end like this!"
She raises her arms and opens her mouth, and a font of pure white holy energy spews forth, coalescing into a familiar figure.
Cecil Fairhaven wastes no time springing to action. A centralized burst of white fire erupts and vaporizes every bionic appendage (save for Fleshbane's) in the room, causing the party to fall to the floor.
"There's not much time," he declares. Already, a fresh batch of tentacles are emerging from the walls and ceilings. "We must flee!"
There is another flare of magical energy, and the party feels themselves disappearing.
*******
Pink waves lap passively against a blue, sandy shore. Birds - not exactly identifiable by Viss, but familiar enough - chirp and caw in the distance. A light, steady breeze blows, rustling the leaves of Oldarophan. That same breeze produces a whistling sound when it passes through Fleshbane's ventilation systems at just the right angle.
Ratbreath is silent for the first time since Menek has known him. The bird hasn't been the same in the hours since their unlikely rescue at the very hands of the paladin that they had slain mere days ago.
That same paladin is is just now returning from a light tropical wood, dragging a sizable boar behind him.
"I apologize for the delay," he says when finally back at camp. He cuts the beast open, displaying a fair degree of experience, and cooks over the fire.
When the first slice of meat is done, he offers it to Shulmor. "Here," he says. "You need to get used to eating again."
To Shulmor: "Subjugation is inefficient," it says. "We do not consume; we absorb. The sum total of all knowledge of every machine, living creature, and, soon, deity, is available to us. We are not one; we are many. And it is only a matter of years before we are able to assimilate all of reality."
"NO!" the Raven Queen suddenly screams. She stands defiantly, and it is plain that she is not in quite so bad shape as the rest of the gods. "It CANNOT end like this!"
She raises her arms and opens her mouth, and a font of pure white holy energy spews forth, coalescing into a familiar figure.
Cecil Fairhaven wastes no time springing to action. A centralized burst of white fire erupts and vaporizes every bionic appendage (save for Fleshbane's) in the room, causing the party to fall to the floor.
"There's not much time," he declares. Already, a fresh batch of tentacles are emerging from the walls and ceilings. "We must flee!"
There is another flare of magical energy, and the party feels themselves disappearing.
*******
Pink waves lap passively against a blue, sandy shore. Birds - not exactly identifiable by Viss, but familiar enough - chirp and caw in the distance. A light, steady breeze blows, rustling the leaves of Oldarophan. That same breeze produces a whistling sound when it passes through Fleshbane's ventilation systems at just the right angle.
Ratbreath is silent for the first time since Menek has known him. The bird hasn't been the same in the hours since their unlikely rescue at the very hands of the paladin that they had slain mere days ago.
That same paladin is is just now returning from a light tropical wood, dragging a sizable boar behind him.
"I apologize for the delay," he says when finally back at camp. He cuts the beast open, displaying a fair degree of experience, and cooks over the fire.
When the first slice of meat is done, he offers it to Shulmor. "Here," he says. "You need to get used to eating again."
KittenMaster
Member
<Satra would have no knowledge of Cecil and his hate for Fleshbane, is there a chance to try to free Fleshbane?
I'm gonna assume no, feel free to have Cecil pull Satra along if you want
EDIT: OH, Fleshbane got teleported too, I misread your post>
I'm gonna assume no, feel free to have Cecil pull Satra along if you want
EDIT: OH, Fleshbane got teleported too, I misread your post>