UMD: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (11) + 12 = 23
Inflict Light: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
Aurora heeding Leon and the pain of her injuries she moves back and attempts to heal some of her most grievous wounds. She activates the wand but the power coming from it was weaker than in times past. She glares at the sniper wondering if he has some sort of anti-magic field going.
The sniper cackles strangely, inhumanly bending his hand back as he makes a gesture at Leon. "The puppets pretend to be the Masters thats rich! " Despite it's mockery you can tell that you have injured it badly as parts of its decayed flesh peel away quite messily. However it isn't easily destroyed and seeing Aurora's difficulties it levels it's pistol once more as it scuttles away from Leon like a rotting dancer who is quite adept at not letting you hem them in...
Pistol Shot - Necrotite Round @ Leon!: 1d20 + 18 + 1 - 4 - 2 ⇒ (3) + 18 + 1 - 4 - 2 = 16
Dmg: 1d8 + 8 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 8 + 6 = 18
Swift: Reload - Necrotite round -2 hp
The shot rips past Leon, burning it's way into the earth as the undead narrowly misses putting a fair hole in the fledgling vampire. It cracks open it's barrel and hisses as it extracts the spent shell and replaces it with another one. "A pity, the next round won't miss..." With that it snaps the pistol back and locks the round in place, smiling wickedly at the Crosses...
AC 20, touch 19, flat-footed 17 (+5 Dex, +1 dodge +4 natural)
HP (damage dealt/max hp) 74/127
Fort +9, Ref +10, Will +13
Defensive Abilities channel resistance +4; DR 10/ bludgeoning
and magic (Currently suppressed Not Applicable); Immune undead traits; SR 21
For a few moments Miri stares blankly as she processes the odd words. Armor...that was what they called the odd hides and metal plates that the city dwellers wore in battle. A tool of the soft ones. He seeks to protect me or be my weapon. As if his sole purpose is to serve.
She leans forward, putting her hands up to his face slowly to remove the mask as she speaks "ఎలా మీరు ఇక్కడ కలిగింది? మీరు వంటి ఇతరులకు సేవ లేదా?"
Whoops forgot his mask was on still... Blargh sleepy typing. :P
He doesn't take notice or even gag when the tubes are pulled from his throat, he is rigid and stable like a stone. Never losing eye contact with Mir. When she asks her question he tilts his head again, the intensity in his eyes never fades. "నా మిస్ట్రెస్ సర్వ్ నివసిస్తున్నారు."
"I live to serve my Mistress."
Halloway looks as lost as the other soldiers standing nearby, at the odd exchange they look at each other and shrug. They speak in an odd tongue and one of them chuckles before returning to his post leaving Halloway sighing and watching the pair of Tabaxian's...
No rush Mir, just setting the scene around you. :)
Round idk 4ish, Init , Altitude ' AC 17, HP 37/37 Buffs: Vampire, Deadly Focus
Attack: 1d20 + 10 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 10 + 4 = 23
Damage: 1d8 + 8 + 4 + 1d6 ⇒ (5) + 8 + 4 + (2) = 19
Perception: 1d20 + 23 ⇒ (9) + 23 = 32I spy with my vampiric eye something that is...
Leon smirks as the sniper's shot goes wide. He returns the favor with another vicious gash to his desiccated flesh.
Your Advance sense allow you to notice a dark shadow hovering motionless some hundred or so feet above you all. A malevolent pair of glowing eyes looks down uncaringly, watching the fight with its shadowed hand extended. You can hardly make out its movements but each finger movement causes the Pale Sniper to jerk like a puppet on strings...
Leon Only and maybe Aurora... If she makes her perception check... >:):Your Advance sense allow you to notice a dark shadow hovering motionless some hundred or so feet above you all. A malevolent pair of glowing eyes looks down uncaringly, watching the fight with its shadowed hand extended. You can hardly make out its movements but each finger movement causes the Pale Sniper to jerk like a puppet on strings...
Too bad I paid them double and sent them to where Di is.... :O PLOT TWIST!
Besides you guys have been weathering the storms well. Despite undead rejuvenating pirates you have been kicking ass. Now you just have to pawn sniper guy and well... Keep moving. :)
But in all seriousness I am trying to give everyone more attention, I will move your fight forward as quickly as you both post. I am on nights in alaska and am in a position where I can literally post 12 hours a day because all I have to do right now is filing and paperwork. :p I am an overpaid file clerk...
You guys have some good stuff coming after this fight~ ;)
Munro smiles at your words and looks to his brothers and sisters. "I must agree, the banners of Markus are being raised and at this rate their will be few priests left if we drag out this conflict further." A distant explosion shakes the cathedral of Morrow, sending bits of rock dust down as if to emphasize Munro and Di's words. AS one of his comrades raises their voice in protest he raises his hand to gently silence them before returning to stand at the alter. "I understand your reservations, I too believe that reacting hastily will weaken us but at this point what is there for us to do? Wait for the dead to try and take this temple? Then what? Fight blindly on until only one of us is left standing? What if a Lich Lord comes, herald by so much death it is bound to happen and then those poor fallen will be harvested for their vile machinations."
The priest who had been silenced spoke up in indignation. "We can defeat a lich lord! By Morrows hand we could do so! But the Brethren can only be called upon ONCE! And then we will be without our last defense. Which like we know the Cryxian's will return, stronger then before. They always do!"
Munro weathers the storm of outrage with a compassionate look before responding with a shocking revelation. "Then we call upon a single cast and hope it is enough... Perhaps the Paladin's of the Wall should suffice?"
Di all the while the escalating gunfire outside the doorway told you that things were probably going poorly outside. The priests deliberations, despite being swifter, were still taking time. Time you all may not have...
Di returns Munro's smile, but then, seeing the priests continue to argue and debate, she growls softly in her throat in frustration. Picking up the sounds of escalating gunfire outside the room, and feeling deep concern for her squad, Diyeana readies her beloved rifle and jogs towards the door, stopping there, she looks out to asses the situation. Yet at the same time, knowing the import of what is going on inside the room as well, she keeps half of her attention focused on the Munro and the other priests.
His words appear to have shocked his brothers and sisters into silence, perhaps they hadn't considered the possibility that not all of the Brethren would be called out at once. After a lengthy silence murmurs of agreement rose from all of the High Priests in support of Munro's suggestion. Munro clasped his hands together in a pleased gesture. "Then it is settled, now let us raise our hands in prayer..."The High Priests hold hands and start singing a hymn to Morrow, Munro walks on the outside of the circle, holding his symbol aloft and adding his voice in a language you couldn't understand. But the words are uplifting, shaking you to your core as the feeling of power grows more and more until the Cathedral feels like it is shuddering beneath your feet. They continue this chorus and every torch in the cathedral flares brighter and brighter, each tapestry appears to start moving. As if ever mural and stain glass window had sprang to life around you, the tales and depictions of sacrifice and events long past replaying themselves.
Then finally the priests finish their chorus right as Munro reaches the crescendo of his strangely uplifting words. As silence falls all the light appears to rush towards Munro, the tapestries stop their elaborate dance, the stain glass windows return to their previous state. All that wild energy appears to be infusing Munro's being with power and making him appear like he is burning with an otherworldly essence. His vestments appears to dance like they were on fire and his eyes shined with a golden light as he descends the stairs and moves past you wordlessly with a sense of purpose, walking back towards the crypts...
As the decision is finally made, and Munro begins the ritual, Di's attention, like a moth to a flame, is drawn back to the interior of the centre of the temple. Her eyes widening in awe at the spectacle of divine power before her, she whispers an prayer to every deity she can think of.
As the ritual ends, and Munro heads to the crypts, she glances outside once again, quickly taking in the situation and deciding where she was needed most, with Munro, or with her troops.
Mirri turns to Halloway, aware of the man's confusion. " He keeps saying that he is here to serve me and says that I am thier...mistress. He expects me to command him to defend me or attack any enemies."
Shaking her head she looks at the Lieutenant. "I think we should free the rest of them as well, and I will speak with them, see if I can gather more information."
"Don't you pay no mind, twasn't your fault. Now, your friend is over there..." He gestures as he somewhat forcefully turns you away from the two covered dead men.
A look of slight perturbedness crosses Cassian's eyes as Scavenger seemingly shoos him away from the covered corpses. Is there something that I'm missing here?
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 - 2 ⇒ (2) + 10 - 2 = 10
His interest was piqued when he noticed the elf crumbled on the floor. Instinct begged him to sweep over the technical marvel and begin tinkering but he hesitated to do so. Instead, he goes to Bera's bedside and looks her over with solemn admiration. "I never said 'thank you', Bera" he whispers to her with a squeeze of her shoulder. "You've sacrificed much for our betterment. I will see to it that your selflessness will reward you with something greater than the suffering you've received thus far. That is my promise to you. I owe you my sanity, a mixed blessing truth be told, but it is something every creature must keep hold of. By no right does anyone or anything have to take that away." He smooths the coarse hair between her horns and gives her an endearing smile. "Rest well, my friend. The Gods know you've earned it."
Cassian’s inquisitive emerald eyes fell then to the broken elf near his feet. He gives a resolute sigh and crouches down beside it to get a better look at the damage done. After a quick assessment, he rolls out his neatly organized tools and weighs the question of where he should start. ”Assistant, can you tell me what is needed in order to get this sorry bastard working again? I guarantee he’ll be most interested to hear of our current affairs.”
Knowledge(Engineering/Cryssian Tech): 1d20 + 11 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 11 + 10 = 37
Tyrn Let me know if you just want me t press on. ;) No rush just trying to keep everyone on pace. For once. lol!
Your words elicit a sharp laugh from far above you both as the shadowed figure appears greatly amused.
The pale sniper reverts to its quiet nature, backpedaling again before it takes aim at Leon...
Necrotite pistol Round at LEON!: 1d20 + 18 + 1 - 4 - 2 ⇒ (17) + 18 + 1 - 4 - 2 = 30
damage +DA +Necro: 1d8 + 8 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 8 + 6 = 22
Leon feels a searing pain from where the round buries into his dhampir flesh, coupled with how precise the sniper aimed it is a deadly wound indeed...
The shadow up above continues to watch, amused by the struggles of ants.
AC 20, touch 19, flat-footed 17 (+5 Dex, +1 dodge +4 natural)
HP (damage dealt/max hp) 93/127
Fort +9, Ref +10, Will +13
Defensive Abilities channel resistance +4; DR 10/ bludgeoning
and magic (Currently suppressed Not Applicable); Immune undead traits; SR 21
Round 5, Init , Altitude ' AC 17, HP 37/37 Buffs: Vampire, Deadly Focus, Snake Style
Snake Style: 1d20 + 16 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 16 + 8 = 38
Attack: 1d20 + 14 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 14 + 3 = 34
Damage: 1d8 + 8 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 8 + 4 + 3 = 20
I keep forgetting I'm stranger as a vampire
Leon manages to move just in time to avoid the deadly bullet swayin his body out of the way seeming almost boneless. As he moves back he slashes again with his katana.
"To preserve knowledge and ensure avoiding a dark age, I will do what I can to preserve the temple, and escape with those willing and able to help fight the Illithid, all in time to escape with Vathiel. Lead on, priest."
"Ha. I knew you'd say that... So lets get to testing this puppy out and honestly... I have no idea what this suit is capable of. You were the only one who had control of the God particle as we classified it."
As Carson speaks the Visor lifts the sudden change doesn't affect you much, going from a comfortable cabin setting talking to a dead man. To being back in the mess hall with some soldiers giving you a wide berth and a few cooks chattering among themselves excitedly. Clearly something important was going on as none of them were paying attention to you. Yet...
"All right! You need to focus your simpler energies,"
Using a Mote on the armor causes it to gain a haste effect equal to your class level. It can be utilized every time you spend a mote to speed up your armor. It lasts for a number of rounds equal to your class level.
Understood and it is coming btw :)
Halloway gives the Male a curious look smiling oddly as he nods. "AS you will it then Marm~" He takes his tools and sets to work, shattering another tube. This time its occupant wakes with a gagging, clawing and struggling flailing about. It tears the mask from their muzzle and retreat, large eyed and completely panicked...
Halloway and the men appear to panic her further and she retreats until she is completely jamming herself between two tubes along the wall. Her eyes dart about but not staying on anything in particular...
The male continues to watch Mir until she moves out of his line of sight, where he turns his head until he is staring straight forward once more...
Let me know if you stop him. If not read the spoiler below...
Halloway continues breaking them free as instructed. the 2nd and the 3rd react the same way. Panic stricken, cowering and retreating as far away from the human soldiers as possible until they are grouped together. The fourth one however is different she doesn't flail around like the others, she sits up in a mechanical fashion like the male did and stands quickly.
She pulls the mask from her muzzle and spits the last of the liquid on the floor before suddenly noticing Halloway...
Perception - DC 17 22 if Mir is off trying to calm the first three females...
Working on it silly Di~ Work got hectic last night so no time to post. Will continue several updates tonight. :) I also joing my firt PFS game so trying to finish that character. :D A bad ass CLERIC OF GORUM! Rararararararar scary! (Not... he' is just lvl 1...)
Your companions appear fine at first glance, grouped together and picking targets as fast as they can call them out. You gunners are truly earning their keep today...
However the fight outside appears to be still an even match if not looking like the clerics are finally gaining the upper hand...
Now she just needed a choice as to where she needed to be the most... ;)
As you burn the last mote you feel that sudden rush of energy as the suit speeds u but after less then a minute its gone. Leaving you weak and completely drained. It's then that this seemingly unending day comes crashing down on you. Carsons voice sounds distant as the world starts to dim, you get tunnel vision and the last thing you see is the table before you smash through it. You don't even feel the impact as the slam face first into the floor...
Carson's voice becomes somewhat regretful as he speaks as you fade into unconsciousness. "Watch the table! Well that was a table... Well... looks like you need some..."
His last words are lost as you black out from exhaustion...
Bluff: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
By the hurried way Scavenger turns you away from the grim scene elicits you to suspect something strange is going on. However he doesn't appear to be lying and there is clearly something strange going on... What however your unsure because Scavenger is changing the subject and quickly...
Bera remains bundled up and breathing quietly, most likely unaware of your words of praise but you had little time to dwell on that. You had a pain in the ass priest to fix. However the Assistant looks to find a tool and hands you a whittling knife as it appeared completely unaware of what you were asking it...
I need ten checks, each consists of an hour of work. K-Cyriss DC 18 (add +2 for each roll after the first) Failing a check by 5 or more means you've failed to make progress. Failing three in a row means that you've lost one hour of progress due to breaking something else or damaging a soft repair...
Note: if you complete 50% of the rolls Talmerren will be awake but unable to act. If you complete all of them he will be active but in a staggered state. You do not have the tools on hand for a full repair...If you successfully reach 50 in one go. No failures then you will be effected by fatigue on the sixth roll. As these are hour long rolls and you haven't had time to rest it will start stacking up on you and quickly.
Just as you are about to start on Talmerren, a bellow rises in the hallway. "CLEAR THE WAY!" In come the cooks you saw earlier carrying the armored form of Ael. They set her, heavily, on the only available bed as Scavenger moves to assess her condition.
1d20 + 18 ⇒ (6) + 18 = 24
He comes up with a diagnosis within moments after opening her eye and examining other clear indicators. "Complete Exhaustion. Jennison prepare another batch of the Good Stuff she needs a heaping dose too..." His aid, Jennison, smiles broadly and moves to a nearby cabinet and starts digging through an assortment of tonics, elixirs and other strangely colored bottles.
Strangely enough Ael's face is exposed but the suit resists all attempts to open it. In fact even the edge of her face are snugly fitted by the suit now. She does however appear exhausted, even you own fatigue is starting to wear on you now. It's been one hell of a long day...
'Hot damn, do I love seeing ma boys N girls mowing them undead f#@kers down!"
Pulled to the thrill of combat, plus seeing an opportunity to help turn the tide and spell a victory for her side, the guns linger takes a step through the door. At the moment though she feels a pull I'm her gut and she turns to look back at Munro one last time. As she does, she sees that he has done the same, to see if she would be him. The Divine courting through him,as well something a little more... Personal hits her right there and her seclusion is made. Wishing her squad a silent good luck, and yelling out Loudly "Give 'em he'll boys n girls!" she turns and makes her way swiftly to Munro's side. There, she smiles dazzlingly and says with a wink Well, whatcha waiting for handsome? Let's go win this do war!"
As Hallowar continues to free the captives, Miri is surprised by the terrified reactions of the females, she moves forward slowly, trying to catch their attention, but is brought sharply back to the present as the last one reacts rapidly.
Perception1d20 + 14 ⇒ (9) + 14 = 23
More posts coming shortly
Every instinct you have warns you that she plans to attack and kill Halloway, along with every other man in the room. Her stance is an aggressive one, her tail betraying her intentions fully and the length of her claws showed this too. These humans however were unaccustomed to your kind obviously.
However something deeper warned you that she was dangerous in ways you couldn't explain...
Roll Ini to see who goes first, if you win disregard the below spoiler.
He's cut off midsentence as he is blown off his feet by a sharp blast of concentrated air that causes you to squint as the whole air pressure increased ten fold. He sails through the air, narrowly missing a tube, before rebounding off the door frame and spinning into the floor with a loud smack. He lands so hard that his arms and legs slap together with bone jarring force, where he lays unmoving. The other soldiers are scattering fast as she shouts. "BE GONE INVADERS! ALL WHO THREATEN THIS PLACE SHALL DIE!"
”Ooooo… Kay?” Cassian responds confusedly as he plucks the whittling knife from the Servitor’s claw. He gives the Assistant a questioning look then tumbles the small knife over in his hands, giving a lackluster inspection for what the imagined significance of the object could have been.
Take 20; Perception 23
”When I’m done with this one,” he tells the assistant, whittling knife limply directed at Talmerren. ”I’m thinking you shall be my next project.” After tucking the knife in his breast pocket (in a quick and quiet fashion), he begins diligently assembling his tools while humming the nostalgic notes of songs his bards would play for him a lifetime ago when he helmed The White Wind.
CLEAR THE WAY!
Cassian turns around to find it’s none other than Aelessaer encased in Grey Rider armor and being carried unconscious into the tent. He rises to his feet, dropping his tools onto the floor and hangs his hands near the throwing knives belted at both thighs. ”What, precisely, is she doing in that armor?” His tone was uncharacteristically hard without his usual playful or aloof enunciations.
”There’s something unsettling about this,” he continues, slowly edging away from Bera and Talmerren to position them out of the soldier’s line of fire. ”My day has been tiresome at best but I know when the wool is being pulled over my eyes. The injuries we inflicted were clearly not what killed those men; it was whatever you did to them afterwards. Aelessaer is not the first body you’ve forced into that shell, correct? It was the armor that cooked those men alive, wasn’t it?”
He pauses to measure each man accusingly.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 - 2 ⇒ (13) + 10 - 2 = 21
”She is not some expendable, nameless civilian; this Temple has Chosen her as it did Mirrianissa and myself. I respectfully warn you that I will not abide seeing her like this quietly. This has been a long, trying day; so I’m going to give you one chance to calmly and concisely explain to me what you’re doing to her before things get out of hand.”
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22
Initiative1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
Moving with preternatural speed, Mirrianissa realizes that she has but a fraction of a second before Halloway and the others would all be torn limb from limb.
Instinct takes over and she explodes into action, tearing into her kin to protect her new allies who were simply aiding her request.
Claw1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14
1d6 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Claw1d20 + 12 ⇒ (7) + 12 = 19
1d6 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Claw1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9
1d6 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
If first 2 attacks hit (pounce)
Bite1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20
1d3 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Rake1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21
1d4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
The men are all clearly surprised by your words and downright furious at the accusation. However none of them talk save for Scavenger but the looks on their faces speak volumes...
The men at first appear to be confused by the accusation and some look downright angry one burly man in particular looks pissed. Especially when accused of doing something to their own comrades. The burly begins to storm forward, fists balled in righteous fury before Scavenger calmly inserts himself between the oncoming man and Cassian. "Ghorde return to your post, now and you..." He indicates Cassian. "... should watch your tone. It's not a suggestion mate, it's a mighty big need to do right the f*^& now." The man's accent makes his words sharper and quicker than his normal friendly tone. The sudden command in his tone is akin to Carroll's save for the fact this man appeared to be holding back his own fury, quite well in fact.
Ghorde looks like he is about to spit at Cassian when one last look from Scavenger forestalls the dirtying of his infirmary. He then moderates his tone back down to his friendly tempo as he speaks again. "Everyone Operation Exitus is in effect, make yourselves useful somewhere else. Now. Oh..." He snatches the mixed tonic from Jennison. "... I'll take that now be along now Jennison, Cassian and I need to chat right quick."
Once they cleared out Scavenger gives Cassian an appraising look as he waits to treat Ael."You look fairly haggard mate, perhaps its high time you sat the hell down and got some sleep. Don't know about this whole chosen business and I don't care none either. Ya forget we were brought here too an' we don't want to be here anymore then you do. Ya got me? Now those men are dead, plain and simple. Leave. It. Be. Especially as one of them is Ghorde's nephew for pete's sake, hard enough keeping morale up here." He swirls the vial as he curses quietly. "An' That armor started acting up when you lot disturbed that half-dead man in the other room. It suddenly stood right up and just remained there all eerie like. However I'd never allow anyone to touch this mech stuff here unless I was sure it wouldn't harm them."
He offers you the tonic then, the accusation in your eyes makes him sigh. "Its a mixture of mead and herbs, I wouldn't poison you..."
The Priest settles his mechanical weapon back onto his side near his waist and surprisingly the weapon sticks to him like a magnetic. He regards yu then in stony silence before saying. "Until the temple is restored the Archives will remain sealed, even then I cannot promise access. It is beyond my position in the order. However, Where shall we begin?"
You have a number of options available to you and routes you could take at this juncture. The Airship, Releasing the chosen. More information. Are but a few of the major/minor ones~
Munro says nothing as you follow him into the yawning darkness of a set of stairs, his fellow priests watch unhappily as you follow him however none speak up in protest. Munro glows with a pale light, giving you about the width of a candle for light to see by and being in such a confined and dark space border on claustrophobia...
However Munro never slows down, keeping an even pace as he leads you deep into the lower levels of the Cathedral of Morrow. It felt like an age before you finally entered what had to be a massive chamber. As the dark walls seemed to disappear and your footsteps echoed more distantly then before. The sudden change throws you off for the briefest moment before you fall back in line with Munro once more...
After several steps Munro stops abruptly, with little sound or reason as to why he did. As several long seconds he pulls forth the symbol of his god Morrow and shortly after you feel a warmth pass through your being. Followed swiftly by a pale light that quickly started to kindle above your very head.
As the light grew your surroundings began to reveal themselves more and more, until you were shocked to see figures standing in all directions around you. It wasn't until the light above was akin to a morning sun that you could make out the shadow forms were statues of all kinds. Paladins, Priests and Soldiers of multitudes of shapes and sizes...
"We have arrived..." The voice comes from nowhere but everywhere at once. It was reminiscent to Munro's voice yet somehow contained several others. Male and female tones as well...
Their surprised looks were uplifting though Cassian kept his demeanor as cool as possible. He watches Ghorde without making a move for defense; he would have gladly accepted a punch across the face so long as it meant all weapons stayed holstered.
He quietly accepts the medic’s appraisal as well as his vial of tonic but his resolve remains undisturbed. [smaller]“I’m sure you’re aware that there are greater things at work in this temple, Scavenger. I’ve come to believe the actions taken within these decrepit walls will have a drastic effect not only on the world we stand in, but in the worlds we come from. I was briefed on the events leading up to this sad state of affairs by an elven engineer who called herself the Mistress of Gears. I managed to repair her to limited functionality, much as I plan to do with the elf behind us. She transcended my consciousness and guided me through this place until I happened across my companions, as well as a giant stone damned-near invulnerable Ant and Sil the Mistress’s sweet protégé who was fated to become some sort of omniscient control of the energy lines keeping this place running.”
”Through an unfortunate turn of events, I was forced to absorb the Mistress’s presence in order to sever our ties. Since that moment I have been plagued with her thoughts and memories; things that leave me at a loss for words. Until today, I’ve believed that ‘evil’ was matter of philosophy and perspective… I’ve since changed my definition. Evil is seeping at the crack of every door and behind every refraction precious light can bend. Evil is torturing the single creature keeping the temple’s Core from self-destructing, leveling everything within a thirty-one mile radius from where we are standing. Evil is amassing an army of soulless thralls, husks of the other creatures sent to delay or prevent this temple from falling; we are not the first ones who’ve found ourselves fighting this war. Finally, Evil is lying in wait for its minions to return its Heart. The object you have is but one organ of this devil. You are a man of medicine – schooled in biology – imagine what sort of creature would need a heart as powerful as that to fuel its body.”
”Whether it was the temple or Cyriss itself that made the selection is of no importance, what is clear is that you should care about “this whole chosen business” because we are the ones that either need to survive or we are the ones who will put an end to the invasion of this temple. If you were summoned here, chances are you fit the criteria.”
”Now, the Mistress of Gears has given me great insight on this temple’s workings. I, alone, can stabilize the Core plus her memories have granted me an invaluable amount of information on our enemies. Believe me when I tell you: you WANT me on your side. Trust has been a difficult thing to muster during my stay here. All this business with those bodies, a subtly boiling discourse in Carroll’s authority here and, most concerning, Aelessaer and that armor… It makes me doubt that I know what is really going on here. Without a clear frame of reference, I can’t hope to fully utilize my talents.”
”Scavenger, I need you to tell me everything about your unit’s prerogatives.”
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31
He turns his attention to Aucturn...
"I'm glad you're with me, mysterious one. Judging from your performance previously, it's hard to imagine you are repulsed by violence. More mystery to be solved, for sure."
Directing his attention back to the priest...
"I think we can spare an infinite amount of time to ensure our history is never forgotten. Whether I can have your archives or not, I will see it preserved. Please, take us to the stasis chambers. We will unleash any that are well enough. With them, we will reclaim your temple. Your conduit with the gods, or be it some ingenious manipulation of matter, will be essential for resuscitating the other chosen."
With that, he gestures the priest to lead on; with pistol drawn.
I dream. I dream I am swinging through the sky on the ship that rescued me from the Cryxian pirates. As I look around I feel comforted to see Bera by my side, scanning the distance, and Carson speaking warmly with the captain. Then Bera's eyes begin to narrow and I see, in the distance, a looming black cloud that seems to rush toward us. Dark birds and cold winds close upon the ship and a cold fear grips my heart. I hold my breath and shudder but then Carson's warm hand rests on my shoulder and I hear his voice in my ear, whispering, "Don't worry, you've got plenty of time." I grin grimly at his joke and feel reassured by his confidence...
Your dream is interrupted by a wet feeling, along with the pitter patter of light rain on your face. As your eyes flare open you find yourself laying in turned up mud and greeted by a dark stormy overcast sky. Raising your head takes some effort and rewards you with the smell of death that hangs in the air.
All around you are strands of wire, criss crossing a quiet battelfield. In the shadows you make out shapes caught in the wire and realize too late that its people caught in the wire. Most appear dead and the few that stir are dying. They appear to have been shout while tangled in the barbed wire they had tried to pass by...
Every few moments a anguished cry rises before a gunshot silences the speaker forever. You can hear the tread of heavily clad soldiers and can just make out their shadows in the distance. They carry a symbol unlike any other you have seen before. Thankfully the overcast sky made it hard for them to see you...
Carroll and his men halted in a intersection, guns loaded, bayonets at th ready. He stood tall at the head of his column, surrounded by his Messer swordsmen and feeling confident in his decision. Operation Exitus was in effect, they create a forward operations point and test the enemies defenses...
Out of the gloom emerged a beast of a man with bulging muscles and a massive blade where it's hand should be. It stood taller than most of his men wearing some sort of black liquid filled apparatus and... it wasn't alone. A dozen or more emerged from the gloom ahead of them. Off down the left hall came twisted perversions of once living creatures, running on backward limbs and shrieking the moment the spotted the soldiers. Down the right hall came quilled beasts and other abominations that shrieked and pulled their on quills out. Readying them like Javelins.
They were surrounded...
He roar rose above the din of the approaching enemy as he swiftly gave commands. "INFANTRY LEFT FLANK! CHAINERS RIGHT! MESSER SQUAD WITH ME!" His men gave a loud HOORAH! and moved to do as he bid them. The ring of dozens of blades greeted the oncoming machinemen as the Messer squad readied themselves for the coming charge. Carroll calmly drew his blade and with a flourish aimed it at the enemy directly ahead. "Dieu et mon droit!"
He and the Messer squad surged forward as one, the abominations continued their slow plod forward unphased by the on rushing swordsmen that outnumbered them. As the two forces closed the abominations raised all manner of weapons and over muscled arms in preparation to smash the insects that stood against them. Finally the two lines slammed into one another, the swordsmen pressed deeply into the enemies formations and soon the insects were hacking into machinemen's sides and flanking them with deadly expertise. Carroll's blade severed the hoses on the chest of one abomination and brought it to its knees in an instant.
Always a quick study he shouted to his men, just as one was smashed brutally against a wall. "Aim for the hoses and disable them!" He dodged a wicked sawtoothed sword as another stepped over his men to try and bring him down. Carroll smiled grimly as he severed it's hoses in a single stroke. "Get out of my way!"
The infantrymen tangled with the oncoming shrieking dead with the firm resolve of men ready to die for their cause. They bayoneted them, shot them and fought to the brutal end to hold the line from the swarming horde they faced. Some men succumbed to the overwhelming numbers but a group of brutal knifefighters cleared a swath of the enemy on their own. Leading them was a brute of a man with a combat knife far advance for its time. He jammed it into the skull of his opponent and twisted it just in case before ripping it out disgustingly. "Just you wait Kitty, you and me are gonna meet again real soon..."
The machine gun crews setup as quickly as possible, their riflemen supporting them moved to intercept the oncoming quill throwers. Some of which were severely wounded before the first machine gun was setup. Just as the quill throwers breached the riflemens line, they were met with a bristling rain of fire as the machine gunner aimed high to avoid hitting their own men. Just one machine gun was enough to tear through the first wave and as soon as the second and third guns were set up the riflemen pulled back and began erecting a sandbag barricade around their heavy gunner brothers...
Blinking away rain, I get to my feet and scan for anyone I can help.
perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
At all times, I keep low and try to learn about the others without being seen.
stealth: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (16) + 13 = 29
Filler Post for Tyrn
It is the work of a few hours, selecting and releasing as many of the female chosen on this level of the compound. Its hard work getting them to get along and despite a few short lived scraps and yelling you eventually get them all to calm down. The Priest explains in a short, factual way of how the airship was designed, dubbed the Sky Destroyer by many of his kind and reviled by those who turned back to the natural ways. It was a warship, through and through, capable of carrying hundreds in cramped conditions. But in combat it was a true monster, requiring little in actual ammunition and able to sustain itself on the magic that streams across the world.
He explains what he knows of its armaments. If in areas where magical energy is limited the on-board weapons can be loaded with physical ammunition contained in several ammo drums and minimal training was required to reload such weapons. The Gunner stations would take more training to understand and control though...
The above art is not mine and is only a close reprensentation of what this ship looks like. It is much sleeker looking, more aerodynamic but this comes very close~ If I haven't OMGWTFBBQed you yet with such a thing then good. It's a great ship that has sat dormant since 3.0 lol.
Its about this time that some of your chosne report loud sounds echoing through the cooridors. The Priest appears confused as the sounds continue for a long time, for nearly an hour you guess, with little abate between gun shots. Their was an incredible struggle going on somewhere and thankfully it wasn't where you all were grouping together.
Munro walks over to one statue in particular, surrounded by dozens of similar statues. They all begin to glow faintly as he approaches and with each step he takes their brighten. Wehn he was within a pace of the central statue you saw them, the lights were spirits in their purest form, akin to a morning mist, and they were still clad in the armor they wore while alive.
Munro looked to each of them, tears running from his golden eyes. "You have sacrificed so much and yet I must ask you to do so again my brethren. It is time to fulfill your oaths!" The spirits raised their weapons, a massive gale suddenly swept through the chamber, kicking up all manner of dust and debris as Munro continued to speak. "Paladins of the Wall! Protect this city and save our people!"
The gale swept through the chamber again and this time the spirits went with it. Swirling around like a vortex before dissappearing through the solid roof above...
The light that filled the chamber began to fade once the gale died down, Munro was clearly shakened. The light he held moments ago had faded and he staggered back. "It is done..."
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15
You glimpse the men with the unknown insignia moving slowly among what appeared to be lumps in the turned up mud. It wasn't until one of those lumps moved that you realized it was a man. The group of men leeled their rifles and hammered the downed man point blank with a single shot to the head. You see some of the men caught in the barbed wire stir and they too are systematically shot in the back by the unknown soldiers.
Their was no mercy in the way they moved now. It was cold and brutal.
They come to a man slumped against a sandbag barricade and one of them kicks him in the foot. When he doesn't stir they stab his leg with a bayonet just in case, he doesn't stir, not a breath and so the soldiers begin to move on. Just as they turned their backs the man moves. Raising a muddy machinegun from the muck and taking hold of it before unloading several rounds into their backsides. The soldiers go down quickly, one of them getting out a shout of surprise before taking a bullet in the throat.
As the last one falls the man loses his hold on the gun and slumps back into themud, leaning heavily on one side. His breath miszts in front of his face as he breathes...
Shouts rise from somewhere in the gloom, but its hard to tell as the rain is obscuring your long distant sight and the shout seems to echo. Carrying on the wind...