On the continent of Palladnrus, in the easternmost mountain ranges midcontinent, lies the Ancient Fortress of Kotelia. The origins of the Ancient Fortress of Kotelian are lost in the sands of time. No one is sure exactly who originally built the fortress, and every race lays claim to it. The claims of the elves and the dragons tend to have the most believers, at least within Kotelia. The dwarves also seem to have a strong claim as well. The elves point to the ancient white oaks that grow within the inner sanctum of the fortress and claim only they would have built a fortress with a forest at it's center. The dragon's point to the raised platforms and aerial access-ways and claim only they would have built a fortress so obviously designed with the comfort of aerial beings in mind. The dwarves point to the exquisite stonework design and construction and claim they built it.
All of these arguments have their proponents and adherents, but recently a small, but very vocal, and rapidly growing, segment of the population has put forth the idea that the fortress was originally built by all the races, perhaps as neutral ground.
It should be noted that nobody, not even the goblins themselves, believe the goblins claims that they built the city.
It is currently the 457th year of the Age of The Solar Cross. The Citadel's are nearing completion, and the enemies of Kotelian have been strangely quiet for the last year or so. This is the time that you have been born into.
"Alright you worthless maggots! FALL IN! HYENA COMPANY ATTENHUT!" Lance Captain Forgran Steelfist bellows, the grizzled old Hobgoblin bellows, and 60 beings of various races fall into place. Each squad is made up of mostly different races, as it's the policy of the city to mix their forces to promote 'peaceful co-existence'.
"ALPHA SQUAD - You're on emplaced weapons, Third Barrier Wall, emplacements 23 and 24!"
"BETA SQUAD - You're on emplaced weapons, Third Barrier Wall, emplacements 25 and 26!"
The morning roll call of assignments continues...
"ZETA SQUAD - You're on gate duty, Third Barrier Wall, Southern Gate 3!"
"ETA SQUAD - You're on guard duty, Third Precinct Armoury, Armoury Number 5!"
When he's done, the old hobgoblin spits. "GET OUT OF HERE YOU LAZY SLACKERS!"
Rozzev salutes crisply and shouts "Sir, yes sir!", and immediately starts hustling towards the assignment.
He's always been a little sensitive about being the slowest, and has a tendency to set the pace for the group, and while on duty goes everywhere at what is, for him, a near jog
A Catfolk bowed lightly, his cloth'd arm sweeping inward, "Of course." Righting himself, he gathered his javelin in hand and walked calmly past the ratfolk. His stride was longer, so he had the time to look back and slow his pace, gesturing towards the rat, "Isn't being in the military interesting? They have such fine names for places nowadays."
Taking the time to look at most passerby's, he idly drew a hand through his own chest fur, "I find gate duty to be the most relaxing, especially the morning shifts. The sunrise is something to behold only at these hours."
"Mork ready for da duty thing!" he bellows, Gork just squeaks in confirmation, his usual dumb oblivious smile on his small head. Mork grabs his large wooden stump, slings it onto his back, he fiddles with the toothpick of a mace on his belt, why mum said he should keep it, was beyond him, prefers easy things, like rock, yes, rock in pocket, stump on back, much simpler. As he heads to the gate. The ONLY decent thing he had on was the shiny breastplate, rest of his gear was okay, according to army standards.
"Yes yes Kayniik ready.. Friends heal, fire burn enemy." The goblin bows slightly to afraid to topled over with his heavy armor and the scurries along the others with his crossbow on the back slamming against his armor when he performs a small jump.
Hey guys, when I use hustle, I'm using it in both the descriptive and game sense. A full hustle for a speed 20 character is the same as a normal walk speed for a speed 40 character. So you can not casually walk past me while I'm essentially jogging unless your base speed is above 40. Hate to nitpick, but Rozzev really is sensitive about his walking speed. And apologies if anyone is above 40 movement.
Ciaran stands at attention copying the soldiers around her almost perfectly as they patiently await orders before bowing lightly after they'd been given. "Sir, yes sir." She mimics in a calm voice before making her way to their post.
Mr. Pasternack looked to the ratman's back, when he had over taken his stride. Ceasing his idle scratching, he hustled a little, and slowed down, only to hustle a short bit later, "Is it really that--" Hustles up, "that important that we--" Hustles a little more, "we arrive their quickly?"
Smiling to himself, he gestures towards their destination, changing his stride to a half-hustle, "We'll get there when we get there. No worries."
Cygnus sat on his haunches during the assignments, growing steadily more bored by the wait to be assigned. The ears that had initially stood straight, a sign of attention, had drooped to a sign of inattention that flicked towards any outside stimuli... right up until he was told where to go.
He watched as the others started to move in the general direction of the gates at their own gaits without standing. He reached down and picked up the wooden discus that had sat in front of him during the exchange, before disappearing and reappearing on a nearby rooftop above the crowd, still in a sitting position. He waited for Rozzev to get ahead once more, before vanishing and reappearing slightly ahead. After a few more of these, he grew bored of his game, and instead appeared just behind the ratfolk, keeping pace, but not walking side-by-side... though one could never be too certain with the dog's flickering form.
The group makes it to Southern Gate 3 in the 3rd Precinct. The 3rd Precinct contains most of the businesses in the city. Most people live in the 3rd or 4th precinct, so the gates are busy. Unlike the gates to the 2nd precinct, the group is here mostly to make sure the gate doesn't get clogged up. They still have to keep an eye out for anyone with a Wooden id amulet, as they are on probation and can't enter the 3rd precinct without an escort. Other than that, it's just making sure everyone has their metal ID amulet on display (they vary from copper to platinum, depending on the access level of the wearer).
As the group takes over for the last shift, who wave and give updates on how dead the beat has been overnight, they begin seeing more traffic. Workers heading to forges and shops, active military returning to barracks after night shifts, street urchins running around laughing and playing games, usually using the active military folks as targets for 'Stale Roll Toss' or as safe bases for 'Hair Tug Tag'.
Kayniik is clearly fighting the urges to pet Cygnus, however every time he gets close the blinkdog dissapear right in front of his eyes, scaring him every time.
"Mork will be at gate. Mork look for wood round things. Yes. Gork.... gork... is.... uhm.... Gork look. Is all" the large ogrw lumbers to his post. Unhooks his stump and leans against it at the gate
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Whenever being used for games, Cygnus takes the time to focus on staying material.* Likewise, when it comes time to be pet, as is his due. It wouldn't be very fair if he cheated the pups out of pegging him with a roll due to sheer luck, would it? Or maybe it would... that would help to teach the young pups that even perfect opportunities were still a function of luck... And so he decided when to and when not to allow himself to blink - though, he never blinked while someone was actively touching him. That could be painful. Goblin games were included in Cygnus's willingness to play.
As a point of fact, he was careful to join in with the play of the children when it didn't interfere with his duties - if there was a large crowd, or he felt he was distracting the others, he chose to take a short rest from the play time to do his job, but otherwise, he was happy to be the spirit of the pride!
"Yes yes You welcome to percinct 3. Move along." Kayniik says to people as he checks thier ID and show them to move.
Trying to juggle a loaf of stale bread and checking ids may be a bit much, but at least Mr. Pasternack is paying attention to the finer details. Like how silky his fur is today and the sounds of the city.
Ciaran helps each civilian with a welcoming smile as they passed through. "Thank you enjoy your time."
Everyone appears to be distracted by the foot traffic, people they know, urchins, and other things...
...at least until air raid sirens begin to wail around the city. Isolated at first, then more and more begin to wail.
Looking around, the group realizes there are hundreds of dragons in free-fall, diving out of the sun and clouds directly over the city!
Mr. Pasternack was checking one of the traveler's ids when the faraway sound of a siren rung out. Lifting his head as if he wasn't too certain, he squinted his eyes and followed someone's finger to the sky. Opening his eyes, he closed them. If the dragons were coming from the air, and he was situated in the gate entrance...he was in the funneling zone!
Opening his eyes, he moved to rush out of the crowd and immediately to the inner side of the gate entrance, climbing onto the side-stone as much as he could, but no more than half-way up it. He flattened his back to it, staying perfectly still, hands and boots holding him steadily on the wall.
The ogre begins to wade through the crowd, a rock in one hand, and holding his stump in the other, he looks up, flying lizzards, he will see how far he can hit one!
"Mork ready!" he bellows over the crowd
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Kayniik was checking the ID of a traveler when the shadows fell over the area. He could not see the dragons himself due to his rather small size, but he heard the cries and prepares to take action as needed. "Gormen grant Kayniik your blessing." Kayniik mutters to himself as he prepares his hierloom crossbow. "Dragons Burn! No hurt friends.
Rozzev, whiskers trembling nervously, glances at his readied crossbow, and then at the descending dragons, and shrugs resignedly. This is, after all, his duty. He yells out "Citizens, please clear the streets and return home or report to your emergency duty stations! Anyone on active duty, hustle RIGHT NOW to where you need to be!" His declaration is made somewhat less impactful by finishing it in a nervous squeak that definitely sounds more rat than ratfolk.
Cygnus is at first distracted by the rather large shadow of a bird zooming across the ground, until he hears the klaxons. Slowly his eyes go from pointing downwards to pointing upwards, one ear flicking.
"Well... that can't be good." he thinks out loud, before pausing... and then joining in the air raid sirens with his own answering howl.
If there was any panic or confusion among the civilians Ciaran would focus on them in an attempt to calm the masses.
"All civilians please proceed calm to safety, we are working to control the situation."
If they were already under control however she would focus her attention on the threat looking for the best way to defend against it.
Rozzev stares intently at the diving dragons, trying to figure out anything about what is happening.
There are 5 batches of dragons falling out of the sky. It looks like one grouping, all white, is attacking precinct 4. Precinct 3 is being attacked by two different groups, one group red, the other blue. Blue ones are the ones diving down on your area. Black and green groups are attacking Precinct 2. Rozzev thinks most of the dragons are small ones, but there are a handful of much larger ones that seem to be slowing down while the small ones dive for the ground.
The larger of the dragons level off at 500 ft or so above the precinct, and then they begin to spit out balls of lightning that fly down and explode on weapons emplacements, or inside the city itself. Some buildings begin to catch fire, while others explode from the blasts!
A small blue dragon slams into the ground about 50 ft from the gate, and begins spewing lightning out of it's mouth, scorching buildings and people with equal glee.
Rozzev tries desperately to remember what he can about blue dragons as he calls out "It looks like they're organized into strike groups by color! Our area is being hit by blues, but it looks like only small ones are coming to ground right now!"
He invokes the Decisions aspect of his patron and casts spectral hand after he is done yelling.
Cygnus vanishes from sight atop the roof, and reappears within the wall - between the two gates, before looking to each of his allies. He then howls once more, but this time, magic reverberates within it, and that magic reverberates within his ally's weapons.
The wyrmling waddles forward, looking ungainly on the ground, and when it reaches the kobold urchin, it opens it's mouth and electricity explodes forth in a line, reaching all the way to Ciaran!
The urchin screams and falls to the ground! Smoke curls up from the urchin's form.
Kayniik moves closer to shoot at the dragon.
"You don't hurt nice people!" he yells with a wide grin as he notice the arrow is on fire when i leaves his crossbow. [b]"Ooooohhh!!![/]
Mr. Pasternack's ears lift to the sounds of the howl. Slowly falling off of the wall and collecting his javelin in hand, he looks at it, "So the drums of war have started, hmm? Best I dance to their tune then." Hearing the sounds of the urchin's cries, he steps around to face the entrance and pulls his arm back, before launching the javelin towards the young dragon.
And there goes his antique javelin once again, flying so gracefully.
Rozzev's teeth clench in anger as he see the urchin go down. Practically spitting out the mystic words, he points at the dragon, and a glowing blue hand streaks towards the dragon's face.
+ fatigued (-2 str and dex, can't run or charge)
Frostbite: 2 attacks remaining
Invoke power +2 dex: rnd 2 of 10
Spectral hand: rnd 2 of 30
@MDT
Ciaran draws her scythe as she runs towards the kobold hoping to stop the young dragon before it attacks but she isn't able to reach them in time as the area floods with lightning.
She manages to avoid taking the blow full force as she continues to move toward the kobold, stopping at his feet and taking a defense stance to draw attention away from him.
Mork gets into a lumbering run, slinging his stump and then taking a wide swing at the dragon
"Protect da peoplez!" he roars
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Cygnus's eyes narrow as the dragon kills the child. He watches his allies charge forward to take advantage of the drake's aggression, but can't help but watch as the urchin's body falls limp.
Cygnus's heart skips a beat as he once more vanishes from sight, reappearing in a flurry of fur and sharp teeth that latch into the drake's hind leg, digging deep before tearing away.
The group fights the smaller dragons, getting singed in the process by lightning, but with the help of the townsfolk, they put down the smaller blue dragons that landed nearby. In the skies overhead, magic spells begin to go off, reaching up to strike down dragons. Many of the smaller ones implode under dozens of magic missiles, fireballs take the larger ones along with black tentacles that appear in midair and balls of ice and even a few meteors that strike the truly massive ones.
After less than 10 minutes, the surviving dragons fly off to the east. Unfortunately, while the dragons are down to less than a third of their original numbers, most of those are the older beasts, and half of them have inhabitants of the city in their claws as they fly off to the east.
The next few weeks are busy times, with the squad spending much of their on and off duty time working on rebuilding efforts, the dragons did a non inconsiderable amount of damage. Although, all said, the damage was less physical than it was mental, the city is not used to flying threats of such magnitude, and the Council begins debating ways to make the city more dragon proof.
A week before the squad's muster out, they are visited by an odd drow. The drow looks to be in his early adult hood, but then, he could be 30 to 50 years old. He has a clockwork arm for his left arm, which whirrs and pings softly as he moves around. His skin is oddly miscolored, and he wears glasses with dark red lenses on his face. "Forgive me for intruding, I was informed your group performed well during the recent incursion, and that you were soon to be leaving the service. I'm sure you already have your lives mapped out, but just in case you don't, I'd like to deliver this invitation. I'm afraid I can't answer any questions bout it, I'm only supposed to drop it off." His voice is sibilant, as if he couldn't quite get his throat to work normally. He places a small wooden chest about the size of a half-loaf of bread on the squad common area table. "If you'll excuse me now..." And with that, he slips back out of the room without a further word.
The drow was an albino, although it's hard to tell. His grey skin is very sensitive to sunlight, as are his nearly colorless eyes. He must wear specially made glasses to protect his eyes during daylight hours.
The drow was Geltherian Graybane.
Geltherian is a hero of the War of the Black Horde. Geltherien, a rare breed even for a Drow, is an albino, although it's hard to tell. His grey skin is very sensitive to sunlight, as are his nearly colorless eyes. He must wear specially made glasses to protect his eyes during daylight hours.
During the war, Geltherian led a force of infiltrators that sowed vast amounts of discontent amongst the allies in the Horde. Additionally, his efforts were instrumental in destroying the seige works used by the Horde on the three surrounding mountaintops.
Unfortunately, the war left it's mark on him, costing him his left arm, and leaving him with a permanent limp and a damaged voice, both results of the final battle to destroy the last siege encampment.
Geltherien has recently taken over the Sententia Tabula, the Board of Thought, which handles Kotelian Intelligence Services. The previous Primus of the Tabula was found to be corrupt and incompetent. He was exiled, along with a dozen of his cronies.
Before he's able to leave, Cygnus simply barks at the box, causing it to flip open as it's set on the table.
He knows better than to climb up on the table, however, so instead he hops onto his stool and waits for the others to look through what awaits inside! And by waits...
"Well, what is it!?" he asks, tail thumping.
The chest does not open at Cygnus's bark, it stays firmly shut and sitting innocuously on the table. Like a brick, or a landmine...