Dungeon World - Strom's Six (Inactive)

Game Master Infernal Zero

Thank you, MWG. You’re on point with your description of the situation as it was then.
The situation’s changed now, but still, thanks.
And Stranger, you sneaky git, you changed your story! Don’t think I didn’t notice!

A few things happen at once.
The Stranger’s oration draws the attention of the opposing group. The mech seems to look in his direction, but it’s going too fast to stop. The paladin seems shaken by his words, though the elf is still glaring hatefully at him.
None of them take action.

The Herald’s EMP strikes the mech, and the field the Distortion Core was projecting starts to go haywire as the mech’s regulation systems attempt to get it back under control. The ground flow returns to normal, and starts speeding up, and up, and up, while the local space starts twisting even further.

Bikke takes the mech’s charge head on, and sends it tumbling into the ground flow, speeding down along the ground without any semblance of control.

Fizzwiddle’s magic suddenly asserts itself. Everyone finds themselves gathered together in a big group hug where the Herald was standing...though there’s a young dwarf with everyone that didn’t appear to be there before, covered in burns and severely scarred. He seems surprised, and keeps looking nervously toward the bear beside him. It’s hard to understand why though - it’s only Terestria.

It’s at this point everyone notices the mech is still there, and speeding towards them.

=================================

You’re all entangled with each other in a group hug, ally and enemy alike, and the ground is practically a river that you can walk on. Any efforts toward finding solid footing will probably involve a good deal of hoping for the best.
You’re all pretty sure that any attempt at ranged combat would end with your attack looping around and hitting you in the shins, in the best case...not that it’s something you need to worry about with everyone so close together.

Oh, and there’s a massive lump of rocket-propelled metal hurtling in your direction. Might want to address that.

What do you do?

Hi friends!

Fizzy says in the middle of the group hug. Being in the center he has no idea what is coming

Defy Danger (Dex): 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (1, 4) + 2 = 7

Yizid suddenly finds his arms wrapped around everyone else in the group hug. With his eyes partially blocked by the taller participants, Yizid only barely realizes that a projectile is aimed at him. When he notices, he tries to move out of the way. Being locked in the group hug, everyone else is brought with him, and they all fall down on top of him after a few steps to the side.

The Stranger bends and twists, avoiding the collapse of the mass of humanity. Almost as if he knew it would happen.

All According To Plan: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (5, 1) + 1 = 7

Staring down, he advised the the rest of the group hug in his deep, dulcet tones. "If you want, you can step on the red stone. It will see you to...another place."

Gain 2 hold. Spending 1 hold to Open a passage or escape route.

True to his word, the stranger steps one of the many rocks that had been dispensed by his assistant earlier. Followed by his beautiful young assistant, they both disappear and reappear a short distance away.

As their group tumbles along the shifting floor, the Herald maneuvers to intercept the rocketing mechansim...

Defend: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (2, 1) + 1 = 4

Defy Danger (DEX): 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (4, 6) + 1 = 11

MWG, suddenly finding himself within a tangle of the others, manages to not only quickly free himself, but avoid the oncoming metal hulk.

He tentatively steps on the red pebble that the stranger stepped on...

(and I'm assuming)

...finds himself standing next to the two newest additions to this madhouse.

"Hello, my name is Moves With Grace. Who are you, and what are your goals in this place?"

In order:
Stranger, can you be more specific about where that stone leads?
And Herald, can I ask how you were planning to deal with the mech, given its momentum, and the terrain's current frictional deficit? You already rolled, but I doubt you were planning to stop it with your bare hands.

In this place of swirling realities where even the very ground is not so much a "thing" as an "idea", the destination that the red stone leads to a spot of solid ground, roughly 30 feet away from the paladin and the elf--a distance good for either closing to quarters, or keeping one's distance. It's also at a right angle to the charge-path of the battlemech, making its pursuit maximally difficult.

Of course this is all probably coincidental.

The Stranger smiles at Moves With Grace. His face is kindly and the smile hints at sharing an inside joke only the two of them share. "Hush, good friend. We're not there yet. Let us be away from threat and danger before we practice the sacred art of greetings and salutations.

I admit you have a most interesting style. You must teach some of it to my assistant. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Imagine?"

"Yes, Master" the young, beautiful girl says, before again taking her bag and scattering more stones upon the ground.

"There! That will be exciting. Now, my young friend Moves. I am but an old, feeble man, and it appears that machine-monstrosity is not going to listen to reason. What do you plan to do about it?"

The Herald lowers her center of gravity by crouching, holding out her staff. With a stomp and a twist of her right foot, frost spirals out in front of her, projecting the shape of a white owl in flight. Cutting winds buffet the crone as the glass-like aegis shatters.

I don't know if that "works" or not, I'm trying to convey an INT/CON caster. There are caster types that use CON, so the heartiness of your body is something magic can come from.

Turning to face the stranger, MWG says "I don't know that we'll ever be *out* of danger in a place such as this" MWG says with a sweep of his hand to indicate the entire landscape, "and I have no plans on how to deal with it, just having arrived here. My friends" he starts to point to them, then realizes that the other 3 are tangled up with them, so he waves his hand in negation "are chasing after a wizard who arrived here well before us - I don't see him and his assistant here now. Then 3 strangers appeared, claiming to stop our foul mission, and everything went sideways before I could ask them who they thought we were and what our mission was."

The stranger smiles in a kindly way. "Ah youth. I guarantee you that at some point in the future we will take our ease by one way, or another. Either we will be bereft of life and breath, and thus have no need for labels, or we will take bread and meat with good tea, and then the labels will mean things.

Perhaps in that direction you may find something worthwhile to strive against? One way...or another."

The small isle of solid ground they stand upon now seems well saturated with small stones. If one squints they look like a starburst pattern. Imagine nods, satisfied with her work, and replaces the bag on her leather traveling belt.

Two things - I finally figured out that I personally mistook "Stranger"'s reference to the "machine-monstrosity" as the entire environment we're in (we are, after all, inside the weird heart of a huge machine), not the mech NPC. So I figure it's reasonable that MWG would make the same mistake.

Secondly, Stranger - Fizzy's magic ritual brought *everyone* together in a human tangle (to quote Loopy "ally and enemy alike"), so the paladin and elf aren't somewhere "over there"...

Finally (ok, I lied ;), since the mech NPC was *rocketing* towards the ball-o-people, I'm assuming that Stranger and I are having this conversation *after* it hit them? In which case...

"Um, talking about labels is all well and good, but I'm more interested in getting back to my friends and helping them out - if I step on the same red stone that I arrived here on, will it take me back to the red stone near them?"

We don't even know if everyone else has been hit yet. As is it, I think my early update threw off the check-in timings for the last third of the party...that, or I've managed to confuse them.
I hope nobody's confused. Do tell me if you are, and it's my fault.
Side note: You're all great. Seriously, can't say it enough. I never expected this situation, and that's amazing.
Ohhh, the CHAOS!

(Speaking of great people, know who else is great? Starts with an L, ends with a Y. It's Lucky, our pet dog.)

"Arr, oops." Bikke can only watch as the speeding armor suit gets redirected at the others. But just then the Group Hug Ritual of Un-Sucketh takes its effect, and Bikke finds himself very adjacent to his allies and enemies.

Good things too, because enemies can make unwitting allies when they're confused. Bikke is a bit confused as well, of course, but also luckily for him the pirate has had a few chugs of rum so the two cancel each other out.

Bikke grabs the other dwarf -- whoever he is -- by the shoulders. This isn't an ordinary hug, but an improvised technique to make a quick human shield. Maybe the other dwarf will soften the blow for the stronger one.

(The danger here is that I'm not strong enough to wrestle another dwarf into a human shield, which would lead to a bigger danger.)
Defy Danger (Str): 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (6, 5) + 1 = 12

Bikke, I take great satisfaction is telling you that due to Fizzwiddle ritualling you into a giant group hug that both the party and the people you were fighting are all part of (not considering post-update actions), the mech is still speeding toward you.
This'll teach you to invent dogs to mislead me! Even though it really has nothing to do with that!

...though seriously, I think you missed something when you were reading.

Somehow I feel like this is all my fault...

Don't worry about it so much. It's not like it's got any notable long term consequences, and you're not the one that thought all this up when thinking about how to make things progress.
Everyone's distracted and in danger, sure...but EVERYONE is, not just the party.
Did nobody note the extra dwarf in the group hug? Because that's a good thing for you. Thank Fizzwiddle for that.

You did good, Fizzwiddle. It was a fun ritual...if a rushed one.

I mean, I think I know who they are, but then also the Herald isn't really the team's PR consultant.

(Crud, missed that in the previous page. Noted and edited.)

this is all Fizzwiddle's fault. ;) Also, technically where I said we were is still true. We're a ways from the pally and elf. And also everyone else. =)

The stranger smiles kindly and says, "no."

But the path is still there.

So, *when* will the rocketing mech finally strike the group, so we can get the timeline straight again (maybe the place we're in has temporal distortions as well as spacial ones? - nah, that'd be *too* timey-wimey!)?

Chaos continues to reign as the group hug dissolves into a mass of people trying to avoid being hit by a lump of speeding metal.
The Stranger and his assistant are the first to make an immaculate escape, separating easily from everyone else and distancing themselves from the others with their prepared passage.
At the same time, Yizid attempts to wrench himself from the path of the mech, failing to disentangle himself from the others in his haste. Moves With Grace deftly unworks himself from the falling tangle of limbs and follows the Stranger, while Terestria, Bikke and the Herald avoid being dragged along by sheer fortitude. Bikke tears the other dwarf away for use as a shield and braces for impact, while Terestria uses her working arm to retain a hold on Fizzwiddle, and the Herald steps forward to meet the mech’s uncontrolled advance. With a growl and a great heave, Terestria throws Fizzwiddle towards Moves With Grace before the impact.
--------------------------
The Herald suffers the mech’s impact first, buffeted by winds and icy shards of her swiftly thwarted aegis before being battered by the mech’s meteoric impact. (1d8 damage, messy. You’re welcome to detail your own injuries.) Bikke is the next to be struck...though in truth, it’s the poor burned dwarf he uses as a shield who takes the brunt of it. The sound of crunching bone is heard as the metal meets his body, and he spits up blood onto the mech. Terestria is the last to be struck, taking the blow with all the formidable fortitude granted by the form of the Stoneskin Bear.
The four are carried along by the force of the mech’s propulsion, and there’s little that can be done to prevent that due to the lack of traction, until the effects of the Herald’s EMP begin to wear off. The rapid flow of the ground begins to come to a crawl, and the feeling of solid ground underfoot returns, along with the sense that their current orientation to the world should have them falling to their deaths.
Terestria plants her feet and presses against the rocketing mech, trying to halt it as best she can without both arms at her disposal.
---------------------------
As the pirate and mage are carried away, Yizid finds himself on the ground with the elf and paladin on top of him. The effects of the Distortion Core don’t reach to his location, and he can feel himself slowly moving along the ground as he lays upon it.
The elf and paladin recover quickly, making use of their more ideal positioning to rapidly pin the priest to the ground together. The paladin lifts a hand and conjures a ball of radiant light, before ramming it into your chest.
All the breath is forced from your body as the power that was suddenly introduced to it floods it, filling it with warmth as a transcendent voice fills your ears.
The paladin leans in, the voice coming from his helmet filled with barely restrained loathing...though oddly enough, it doesn’t feel like it’s completely directed at you. ”Strangers we may be, but I know you all too well. You remind me of a part of my life I have come to despise - a time before I heard the radiant voice in truth. It seems you were not so fortunate as I was in those moments...but I know that you can still do better.” It’s at this point that the paladin’s voice is starting to become uncomfortably familiar.
The two shift, and the elf gets off the ground as the paladin takes the sole responsibility in holding you down. The paladin speaks again, his voice now more kindly. ”Count yourself fortunate, brother. You’ve been imbued with a spark of real divinity. And I do not intend to let you waste it.” As he holds you down, the elf begins to take aim at the Stranger once more.

=================================

The Herald and Bikke are being pushed along the path by the rocketing mech, getting ever further away as Terestria tries to push against it and Bikke’s dwarf-shield just kind of...bleeds, on it.
Yizid is currently pinned by the paladin, and the elf is taking aim on the Stranger again.
Fizzwiddle has been hurled by Terestria so that he lands near Moves With Grace. The two of you are in a good position to assist Yizid and the Stranger with their situations, though Moves With Grace may be able to catch up to Bikke and the Herald if they seriously push themself to reach them.

What do you do?

That thing ruined my hug!

Pew Pew

2d6 + 2 ⇒ (2, 6) + 2 = 10 for 2d4 ⇒ (1, 4) = 5

A church pew flies from Fizzy's outstretched and and crashed into the mechs shoulder.

That should teach it! Hello there stranger!

Is it possible to attempt to put an applied poison on the paladin from where I am?

Seeing the Stranger put in danger (heh - "Stranger, danger!" :), MWG attempts to defend him :

Defend: 2d6 ⇒ (6, 1) = 7

And he will opt to halve the damage by deflecting the oncoming arrow with his whirling nunchucks.

Might be a little difficult, Yizid.
Since it's applied, it's going to require careful application to the target, or to get them to ingest it. And they're not going to just let you gently caress their face or something.
So the obstacles are that one - they're in armour. Plate, even. That's going to get in the way of applying anything, so you'll have to get that out of the way. Two - you're pinned. Until you get free, it'll be hard to do much of anything. And three - they're going to be resisting anything you do.
It's possible, but using that poison amounts to getting free, yanking off their helmet, and forcing it down their throat or something. I figure that'll take three successful Defy Danger rolls to pull off on your own, at least.
Up to you if you think that's worth it.

The stranger smiles and nods at Fizzwiddle as if they were neighbors walking on their way to church. "Greetings to you. Honor and admiration to you and thy Way. Many tossers of mana have I seen, and none have been so puissant (Dammit Spellchecker, that IS a word!) as to actually through a fully made pew. I hope to get to know you better when circumstances are less...hectic."

The Stranger looks up as the elf takes aim and Moves moves in between. The smile runs from his face and his expression deepens into a dark cloud. "I had thought to deal sweetlty with you!" he calls across the distance at the elf and paladin. "Though you know that I am not famous for my patience, I still have played you fair! I had thought to get along on the right foot. But NAY! You take the road of the bandit! Of the common thug! Of the brigand! Of the low brute that knows only to 'skwahsh da talky man an' hims wot is not in da WAAAAAGH!'"

If one were to remark that this was a -dead on- impression of an orcish warboss, that person would not be called wrong.

"Fine.

In abundance!"

The Stranger makes a small motion with his hand, and near the paladin and elf two rocks glow silver*. Rising from the ground, they each grow spiked blades! The sharp weapons begin to twirl and drill and they charge toward the pair at rocket speed!

Spend one hold to do damage to all enemies within the area.: 1d6 ⇒ 5

*I'd link to a Youtube clip of "Phantasm", but I know how squeamish people can get about horror clips. So if you want to see some silver spheres killing people, just search for it on your own. It's not hard to find. ^_^

I'll try this a little bit differently.

Defy Danger: 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (2, 6) + 2 = 10

Yizid wrests himself free from under the paladin and walks a short distance away before the paladin realizes what happens.

"What are you trying to do to me, brother?" Yizid asks indignantly, echoing the paladin's words, but still unable to identify him. "Why can't we just get along peaceably? The gods hate violence, you know." He holds his dagger by the sharp side, indicating his willingness to drop it.

Parley: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (1, 1) + 1 = 3
Dropping his weapon as leverage for the paladin to drop his.

Twisting away at the last second,
The Herald is caught in the left shoulder. Where the sound of the dwarf's end is wet, the crone's shoulder breaks with the sound of crushed glass.
damage: 1d8 ⇒ 6

"That is... unfortunate." Left arm limp and sagging unnaturally, the crone looks about to try and get her bearings, looking for signs of the boy they were there to murder.

Ping?

Pong?

Alright, let's hope I haven't accidentally written something that will be regretted later due to whatever oddity is occurring with my head.

As Fizzwiddle fires his magically constructed church pew, a thin shell of red seems to coalesce around it in the air, breaking into multitudes of crimson lines that surge into the pew and grant it a soft red hue. When it crashes into the mech, instead of dissipating on contact the pew keeps going, tearing off the arm (and more of the mech besides) as gravity suddenly begins to act on it. As the mech’s arm gradually slows down to the pace of the moving ground, the pew bounces down the path a little ways more, before skidding to a halt with its final landing. As it comes to a halt, the pew starts to deconstruct, its crimson pieces flying off into the air and dissipating.

If you were to look, you’d find the eyes of the elemental acting as Fizzwiddle’s scarf have become more distinct, now-orange circles staring out from its mildly luminous red body.
--------------------------
After its pew-induced intense structural violation, the mech’s rockets start to sputter before they fizzle out. Digging her feet into the ground and pushing harder, Terestria manages to bring the mech to a halt before she and Bikke get carried too far away. With a surge of green over her body, she drops to her knees as a human once more, panting with exertion as blood trickles down her limp arm.
The body of the dwarf Bikke used as a shield drops limply to the ground as well, covered in blood and displaying all the rigidity you’d expect from someone who’d had their skeleton broken in several places and outright pulverised in others. As they fall, they leave a dwarf-shaped bloodstain behind on the mech.
There’s some blood on you too...alright, a lot of blood. That’s not going to come out easily.
Looking past the mech, and further beyond the Herald, you see the elven bow-woman’s eyes open wide with shock as a silver something rams into her chest.
--------------------------
As the elf fires and Moves With Grace sends her shot astray of its intended course, the paladin scrambles to his feet and focuses intently on Yizid as he says his piece.
Shaking his head, the paladin steps forward. ”And yet, there are gods of war, combat and bloodshed, as are there tales upon tales of deific vengeance. Truly, violence is not the divine way.”
As the Stranger makes his gestures, the elf’s deflected arrow strikes his flank, still seeking him despite the alterations to its flight. (1d8 damage, halved as per MWG’s defend.) The silvered stones ascend, and point themselves toward their targets.
The paladin turns about at his partner’s gasp of pain to see the elf tearing out the silver stone from her chest with both hands, her bow on the floor as she tries to remove the device that badly wounded her. He spots the other seeking to take his head, and as it impacts his helmet, he tears it off with divinely-enhanced speed, leaving him with a nasty gash on his head but otherwise alive. As he grips his spear in one hand and then loops his arm around his partner, he glances about to see the dismembered mech and the body by it, and looks to Yizid with an expression of fury and melancholy.
As strange as it is noting the subtle differences in his face that note just how different he is, it’s not really possible to deny that Yizid saw his own face staring back at him. ”I must fall back here, but we are not done with one another.”
With that, he flees away from the group, dragging the elf with him and leaving her bow on the ground as she utters protests and curses non-stop. Yizid hears that beautiful voice once more as the paladin utters prayers for guidance in this twisted space.

=================================

As the two that remain of the opposing trio attempt to flee, the Skyruin quakes once more.

What do you do?

WOW! That was so cool! How did I do that? MAybe it was that last syllable...I elongated it a little bit...hmmm. Did yo use that?

Fizzy is bouncing up and down, and running over to look at the mech

MWG turns to the Stranger and says "So, now that the immediate danger's over, my mysterious and long-winded friend, who are you, why are you here, and what are your immediate goals? And be warned, I only called you friend because you helped us vanquish *our* enemies, I am still reserving my opinion of how friendly you'll be towards us."

The Herald snears and spits an icicle. "That's the dinner bell, children. The early bird gets his borscht. This monarch is getting tired of getting her robes dirty."

Moving with the constant tinkling of breaking glass, the Winter Herald casts out her staff, her cards filing out of her sleeve and into an orbital. "Stupid gravitic impulse drives always leaking stupid- Grigori, some time garbage is afoot. Isn't this where a younger, more powerful, equally beautiful me steps out of a doorway? The doorway to the key? Don't tell me I can't do that anymore. I haven't burnt that many cards. At least show these layabouts what will happen if they continue to... lay about!"

Cast a Spell(Reveal Grim Portens): 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (3, 2) + 2 = 7
• Your spell has unforeseen side effects, and might draw unwanted attention.
• The casting saps your energy. You take -1 ongoing to INT until you have a few minutes to clear your head.

Spout Lore (paladin): 2d6 - 1 ⇒ (4, 3) - 1 = 6

Yizid puzzles over the paladin's response, but he is interrupted by the bullet that finds its way to the elf. As he watches the paladin fly off with the elf, he tries to rack his brain for who the paladin was, or from where he might know him, but to no avail.

His thoughts are interrupted when the Skyruin quakes. "We were supposed to be going to find Lincoln. Does anyone know in what direction we should be heading?" he asks, trying to keep his balance.

1d8 ⇒ 6half is 3, minus 1 = 2

"Gah!" The Stranger calls out as the arrow finds his flesh. After Moves so gallantly deflected it, he waved at it randomly with his dagger, and, fortunately and by shear luck the thing glanced off it. Darnedest totally random thing.

"OH confound you, youth!" the Stranger answers Moves as he clutches to his bleeding side. "Here I am, an old man in strange lands, you have the gall! The unmitigated audacity to speak as though we sit down to tea and I am but dancing around a subject for my own pleasure. EXCUSE ME if mine own blood, pouring forth onto the flowing pave is of a slightly higher priority than seeing that I bow and curtsy for _your_ pleasure Your bad manners are exceeded only by your bad manners.

Ach. Imagine my sweet, go and get some cloths from thy mother."

The beautiful young girl wordlessly nods and turns. She reaches in to...nothing. If there is a thing there either it doesn't exist, or your mind refuses to believe in it. Some words from a kindly female are heard, they're the kind of voice that will tell you that you look too thin and you need to eat up the chicken pot pie and apple cobbler and 2-liter of red mountain dew that she has here just for you. "Oooo, did the poor deary hurt himself again? You must tell him to be more careful, won't you dear? Here, put some of these on him and see if that won't make him right as rain. He really should see to his health, the poor dear isn't as young as he used to be."

Imagine turns and suddenly has bandages in her hands. White and clean and smelling faintly of herbs, she wraps the Stranger's wound. The bleeding at least stops and he feels strong enough to stand.

"Now then, my young friend. How about we walk and find our friends, eh? They are apart from us and we should at least gather together. For if a man said something now, a man would just have to repeat himself later, eh?

Go on, I'll follow you," he says, as he leans heavily on the girl. "I believe if we walk that way we'll find them eventually."

As the Stranger walks he wonders, '_Do_ I know who that elf is?'
Spout Lore: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (4, 1) + 1 = 6

As you rush over to the mech, you find Terestria’s managed to pull herself together a bit, using her good arm to pull herself up on the opening on the mech left when its arm was torn off. ”You alright, Fizz? In a little rough shape, but I think I can bear it.” She has a little laugh to herself at the joke before taking a look around.
Looking up at the mech, it’s still mostly intact. Grommy would probably able to do something with it, if he was here. If you move around to where the arm was torn off, you can see inside a little. There’s some cables, various pieces of metal with strange patterns, and...oooh, that’s shiny. You can’t see most of it, but you spot the sides of some sort of silver hexagon with some of those cables running into it. It’s a decent way in there, though. You’d have to climb in to get it or something, and that’d be a tight squeeze.

Further down, Terestria’s checking out the arm that came off for anything useful. A little ways further than that, the pew that you conjured is nearly finished dissipating.
--------------------------
Herald, as your magic takes hold, four cards come out, and show you their faces.
The two of gears (a little blunt, perhaps), the numen of eyes, and...the card of Winter, upright. Like this, a symbol of unspeakable tragedy to uneducated fools. To those who know better, it may be a removal of obstruction and the opportunities that follow, or a sudden reveal of that which lies beneath the obscuring layer. The cards having shown their values, they rearrange themselves.
The 2 of gears positions itself before the Winter card, the numen of eyes hidden behind the Winter with its face turned away. A tether coalesces between the backs of the numen and the Winter, a link seemingly directed into the Winter. The gears approach the Winter, seeking to cover it - and then, it’s violently repulsed, further manifestations like the tethers lash out from the Winter in violent and uncontrolled spasms.
The cards make to return, but they screech to a halt, compelled by more magic than your own. The setup starts like the first time, but this time, the backs of the numen and the Winter approach each other as well, and meet. Where before the gears are sent flying, here they merely jolt back as the Winter whirls around to reveal the face of the numen of eyes.
The scene stops there, courtesy done as all but the numen of eyes returns to the deck. It is that one card that remains to now look at you, taking the sight of you into its flat gaze and then tilting as if in a polite nod before returning to the deck. You can feel whatever it was that intervened release its grip on your cards.
--------------------------
(No need to roll any dice here. No miss - but no XP either.)
Yizid, as you wrack your mind trying to figure out if you’ve seen them, you come to the conclusion that you’ve never met the man, and would, in fact, have remembered it if you’d met someone that looked just like you.
The voice that is now suddenly part of your life returns, and...starts tutting in your ear?
That’s...how are you supposed to feel about that? This whole thing is weird.
--------------------------
Stranger, as you follow the paladin and the elf, you suddenly recognise the elf - though admittedly, she’s not the one you know. Yours made a habit of waylaying you at every turn, disrupting your functions, killing everyone who you so much as said a word to, and generally being an aggravating little ball of spite. A dangerous one at that. Her name was Nora.
All versions you know of fit a pattern. They have a foul temperament, have something they’re incredibly devoted to, and are willing and able to cross just about every line for it when pushed.
It usually doesn’t take much pushing.

As you exit the realm of memory, you realise that only your retinue has come with you, and that the rest are far enough away that meaningful direction is impossible. You can remember the path back to everyone else, but if you keep following Nora and the paladin, that won’t be the case much longer. It’s a matter of whether to leave them behind, or abandon your pursuit.
=================================

What do you do?

"I'm afraid I know that person a little too closely," Yizid says with a grimace. "I wouldn't want him to do something unhelpful while I'm not watching, and I guess he would probably be heading in exactly the direction we need to go." With that, he takes off after the paladin.

"Did everyone see that?" The Winter Herald asked in a awed whisper. "There could be no clearer sign that we have to get off our dusty duffs and go kill that wayward waif!" It was a little- no, it was a lot more complicated than that. Inaction meant Lincoln would be turned aside at the last second by the inevitability of Winter, and Winter's bounty unleashed, but not in the good, nonna gets all the cookies way, either. The cookies would be everywhere, and these cookies were much too good for children. The alternate telling, seemingly prophesied by Fate themselves, or, more likely, someone falsely claiming the title, showed the precious cookies bounty kept locked away, and the numen revealing themselves.

This was the problem with prophesy. The only way to fill in all the pronouns and placeholders was to watch it unfold live. Anything less suffered from artifacts of the method of compression.

Still, the whole ordeal gave the Herald pause. Who aside from the former Herald held sway over the cards? The current Herald licks her lips and holds her stomach. Now I'm hungry for cookies... Dammit Nick...

Everyone there?

Can I get a roll to navigate this place, Yizid? Even if you can see him, space does not make sense here to mortal beings on more than a local scale, outside of the gravity wells - and the paladin's done enough walking to be outside of the space you can make sense of.
Don't worry - I'm sure if you ask nicely someone can help. Or maybe not. How are you planning to get about?

Discern Realities: 2d6 ⇒ (2, 1) = 3

I planned on chasing the paladin to prevent him from "foiling my plans" somehow, but apparently, getting around might be too difficult for me.
If it's too difficult to have me chasing the paladin while everyone else is somewhere else, I could try to come back to the rest of the group (despite the character's wishes), but I'm not exactly sure if everyone else is trying to accomplish other goals (apart from the fact that I just failed a roll to navigate).

Trailblazer?: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (5, 4) + 1 = 10
When Yizid lunges forward to chase his evil alternate past self from another dimension, the crone extends her staff in an attempt to crook his hood. "This isn't any place to trust your eyes, dearie. I have it on decent authority that we ought to be headed this direction."

The Herald takes a tentative step onto a wall, then, hiking her skirts, scales the distorted space as if she were simply walking across an unstable ledge. A finger drops from her sleeve onto the floor, and she stops to scoop it up.

Fizzy spends time chatting with his new scarf friend

You see I was using the famous gnome Pew spell which is created by...

The Stranger amicably follows along, for all the world just out for a stroll with new friends. The girl follows along, a respectful distance behind. Any other sounds which might resemble a giant spider are of course very silly are will be fully ignored.

"Yes, I meant to compliment you for that. I've seen many, many spells cast in my time, but a full church pew? That -is- something new. And showing -me- something new is a _high_ compliment indeed! You are honored." He finishes with a respectful bow of his head.

MWG turns to the Stranger and says "So, now that the immediate danger's over, my mysterious and long-winded friend, who are you, why are you here, and what are your immediate goals?

Yes, I copied-and-pasted my questions from before. I (the player) did not realize you hadn't rolled for damage yet, and I'm sure MWG would have helped take care of your wound rather than ask questions at that time.

Fair nuff. =)

The Stranger nods at the questions from Moves With Grace. "A fair cop. Suffice that for the now my goals are your goals. You seek to make right unto a thing that can not continue and make it not continue. I have caught wind of such and I am a ally in this quest.

Thusly we put to rest the What and and the why of it. As to who I am? Let us make introductions all around."

The Stranger shakes the hand of all who offer their name. Then he replies. "Welcome, welcome. You are all well come.

I am called,"

...