The priest that Dambreth is chasing is a canny one. As you tackle him, you notice that his formerly black hair has turned partially gray. He turns to you just as you make impact, gesturing at the cleric-drake as if throwing a baseball sidearm - trying to cast a spell, but you interrupt his attempt with a vicious tackle that manages not to kill him. By the time you two finish struggling - not long, considering you're a drake and he's just an orc - his hair has already gone completely gray. But you have changed as well!
You can feel the difference now much more keenly than when you were struck by the lightning. Your bones feel more brittle, your eyes not as sharp, but the flames in your belly grow hotter and hotter still. You feel as if you're about to burst from the ferocity of the roaring fire within your chest, but your drake host's body is weakening! Your muscles no longer have the terrifying force they did just moments ago...
The two of you break apart, the beacon knocked away in the struggle. Roll your damage, and take 1d6 damage yourself. You may also try a Spout Lore roll to understand what's happening to you, if you haven't worked it out yet. The orc is breathing heavily, wiping blood from his mouth, his muscles trembling. All around you the priests that you scattered are beginning to regroup. What do you do?
Viola opts to Go with the Flow. As he grabs and hurls her, she grabs him by the wrist with the other hand, twisting her body with him as a broad-shouldered counterweight and alights back atop the crane, which she clambers across, before swinging herself into a spiral down the cable.
She figures that now is a good time to quit while she's ahead, and flees towards the back of the drake. If there's a saddle, she attempts to secure herself to that.
Speaking in the ancient tongue of dragons, Viola calls out to the Dragon-that-is-Bolus, and attempts to use her Charming and Open.
When you speak frankly with someone, you can ask their player a question from the list below. They must answer it truthfully, then they may ask you a question from the list (which you must answer truthfully).
Whom do you serve?
What do you wish I would do?
How can I get you to ______?
What are you really feeling right now?
What do you most desire?
Bolus whirls around and with dismay sees that the orcs aren't scattering from the death of their main rabble rousers. Strugging to stay on top of the blood crazed ghosts he tries to think.
Stage, mike, lights, mean generator, generator means fuel Bolus-drake thinks and whips his head around to find either the generator powering the stage or something like fuel drums?
But he's distracted by a language he recognizes. Turning he sees an elf running towards him from the crane.
He screeches at her
She opts to try this again... only this time, she does what she did with the first drake she met... she attempts to free the drake that was still struggling against Bolus only moments before from the tyranny of the orcs, by beatboxing something that should speak to the Drake's heart...
Bolus takes the opportunity to bite aqnd claw at any orcs that might be pursuing.
Viola slips on the drake as he continues to do combat... or she. It's usually best not to ask that unless you have ulterior motives. And she didn't. Not right now anyway.
"Ouch," Halwyr mutters. I won't be walking on that for awhile. I'd like to get out of the fight, but it'd be nice to actually know what's going on. "So," he says to Olivius, standing up painfully, "What are you doing here? I was with the Hand of Gaia, do you know about them?"
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Borak moves over to the side of the mage and speaks to him. "Try not to move, I'll see what I can do for your foot." It was the least he could do. There was an 87% chance the igneous resonance would hurt, but it couldn't be avoided. Not without a Kansas City Shuffle.
"Oh, Most Avaritic Propket, lend aid unto thy servant."
"Hmmm. Perhaps Propoket does not see into this Reality? Strange. No matter. But, aye, we seem to be allies against these outlandish orcs. Are we sent be the same Hand?"
Olivius jerks the Spirit Blade free and cleans it with a few simple sweeps before sheathing it again. He quickly retrieves his knives (and pats down the rider orc for valuables, he is what he is after all) before hoping down and approaching the mage and his companion.
When put to the question, Olivius is shocked. The Hand still exists! A sense of indignation fills him. They could be helping a bit more, after all.
Anyway, now was not the time. Yes, I'm a member of one of their teams. One of two, well three, from a time I've heard called Renaissance. He replies, and his clothes seem to support his claim. Except for modern boots and goggles, Olivius seems to have stepped straight out of history. But we'll discuss that later. Now is the time to attack the Beacon. Olivius looks around for Yala and whistles. He points to Bolus's body and motions for her to get the radio, then follow him.
I'm going to disappear with my friend. Make your way to the Beacon. That's all that matters now.
Then be does just that. One minute he and a lithe, beautiful girl wearing islander garb are running, then you blink and they're gone.
Olivius stealth with Yala toward the Beacon's last known position. Hopefully the chaos will persist long enough to plant the charge and get out before this whole valley turned into glass.
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Borak merely shrugs. "Well, there's nothing for it. Ah, but pause a moment."
Borak goes over to the rider orc and sees if he has a weapon, or perhaps armor. It seems that he is berift of such since he was captured.
"Wait, Halwyr, let me try to heal that foot again. We might be doing a lot of running, afterall."
Again Borak beseeches Propoket for assistance.
"Thanks." Halwyr turns away from the hobgoblin and begins to summon a new mount, hopefully more durable this time. As he works, he says to Borak, "I don't know anything about a beacon, I had a different mission. But if we can figure out what and where it is, I'd be glad for your help in destroying it." He finishes casting.
Dambreth burns from the inside as the fire grows hotter and the drake body grows weaker as it ages unnaturally. Dambreth tries to remember exactly what kind of spell would cause him to age like this...
...but doesn't remember the details.
No matter the details, I can use the building fire, Dambreth thinks as he sees the beacon roll free and exhales his fire calling on the pain and anger of the ghosts to make the fire even hotter and knowing this is why Gaia sent him to this weird future holds nothing back as the fire explodes towards the beacon. Please let this be enough to destroy this foul thing.
Viola, Eldar, and Bolus-the-Drake make an excellent fighting trio, knocking back the enraged orcs nearby and dodging the arrows that occasionally rain down from above. Viola's able to swing up on Bolus' back, to a saddle that he now realizes he had been wearing. The three of you manage to clear a small area for yourselves where the orcs have not swarmed you yet.
The strange elf warrior that followed you from Terminus City is what calls your attention to the generator. The sparking electricity from his shock gloves, channeled through his longsword and shield, are striking orcs and cleaving them down alongside you. The lightning strikes that accompany his weapon swings are arcing upward, striking the ruins of the stage equipment overhead and creating a crackling sound that draws your attention...there! The generators, backstage!
As you notice this, Viola, on your back, has woven a spell into the percussive, specific strikes of her music. This drake that had been fighting Bolus, however, is too far gone. Unknown to you, this drake had been raised in cruel captivity by the orcs since it had been hatched, and had never known freedom or that life could exist beyond its orc masters.
When you attempt to break its mental shackles, the damage is too much. The drake goes completely berserk, attacking the orc crowd all around it in every direction and belching fire from its mouth freely. You've successfully tied up the orcs in the mosh pit for now, though it won't last forever. What do you all do?
Lord Borak, Propket is displeased. After your initial attempt at healing the foot of the abyss-lover mage had failed, you stubbornly beseeched him again, without having offered any victories to His glory.
You are only a beginner Priest of Propket, and have not yet earned enough of his favor to summon his aid so arrogantly. True, the mage's wounds are healed, as you requested. But at a cost! You feel a surge of pain, take 4 damage, ignores armor. Propket demands tribute.
Meanwhile, Halwyr is summoning a mount. He works a spell of summoning and calls forth...multiple mounts, one for each person that is following him. (The two other prisoners you rescued stay back, fearfully). The mounts resemble black pegasi, winged horses, but as you gaze at them more carefully you can tell that their skin is rotting off. Drawback of the spell: These mounts will not serve you until slain like the winged horror from before, they will only serve you until their flesh is completely gone. Then they will run wild and do what they will.
Olivius, you find the knives you threw still buried in the body of the orc rider you have slain. Beyond that and a few orcish fetish trophies that are said to be good luck, nothing on this guy. You speak your peace to Halwyr and Lord Borak, tersely, after seeing that Dambreth and Bolus are OK, and run off with Yala.
Yala sprints alongside you, her long legs easily keeping up with your strides. "Nice kill, Sticky-Fingers," she says, panting a little as they reach the outskirts of the festival pit. "It's good to see my tribe's Spirit Knife killing something a little more important than a sacrificial pig."
She hunkers down near you as you approach the stage from the south, seeing the generators and the back of the stage. Even from here, you can tell it's ruined...and there's fire and lightning coming from the other side of the stage as well.
Further down in the valley, you can also see another drake's flames being shot around. Unlike the flames in the festival pit, this drake's flames are a bluish-white in color, implying extreme heat. What do you do?
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Dambreth, your eyes open and you look upward at the sky. You're in your own body again. You feel none of the presence of the ghosts. You feel a deep ache in your bones that makes you gasp in surprise when you try to move.
The last thing you can remember is expelling flames that were too hot to even look at. You channeled the rage of the spirits of the slain that Bolus had summoned, you were a conduit of Gaia's wrath, and you gave everything you had to the blast. As drakes age and their physical connection to this world grows weaker, their bodies wither and the flames inside them grow hotter and hotter. Your drake was so aged by your prolonged struggle with the orc priest that it was at the end of its long, long lifespan, when its flames were hot enough to cause spontaneous volcanic eruptions.
You remember bathing the beacon in this fire, remember listening to it crack. But as your hosts' body finally gave out, expending the last of its life under the vicious control of the undead, you see that the beacon, though damaged, remained intact. The orcs that had been trying to stop you were giving their life energies to a foul ritual, one that contained the worst of your flames from the beacon. Though the orc priests die all around you, their gambit pays off. For now, the beacon continues to transmit its signal to deep space.
Halwyr is on his mount, ready for takeoff when he notices Dambreth stir. "Hey, you!" he shouts. "Want a ride back to the beacon? I'm with the Hand, don't worry, I'm on your side." Without waiting for an answer, he commands one of the Pegasi to stay on the bluff with Dambreth. "If its skin is falling loose, get away from it," he tells both Dambreth and Borak as they take off.
Olivius smiles at Yala. Thanks. I'm glad you're here to see it.
He peeks over the ruined equipment and notices the lightning. Looks like Mr. Creepy got himself in the thick of things. Good for him. Let's take the path less traveled and head down there. I doubt they would keep the Beacon in the middle off a riot like that.
He double checks that Yala's ready, then bobs down the slope toward the white hot flame and, hopefully, the Beacon.
Viola frowns as the drake goes on a rampage, rather than shaking free of its bonds. "I... suppose that is also an option, yes." She made a mental note to include a bit more hi-hat next time.
Bolus-Drake is a bit taken aback by the elf girl's chatter forming the bond "Man Viola talks a lot" . Grumbling a bit he grabs the bow wielding orc she pointed out.
And after Viola gets the bow. Tries to toss the orc, living or dead into the crackling generator.
Taking the bow in hand... and hopefully getting an arrow or two in the process, Viola fires a test shot in the direction of the priest, before nodding. This would do.
"Little to the right." she suggested to the drake in Draconic even as it was beginning to aim its orc payload.
Awakening in his body, Dambreth gasps in pain and then yells "Noooo..." as he realizes that despite his best efforts the beacon still functions. Hearing another elf calling to him, Dambreth looks around and spots the undead Pegasus...sure, why not...at least it gets me back to the Beacon...
Running as best he can considering his condition, Dambreth hurries to the beast and throws himself aboard and gestures for the flying horse to carry him to the beacon.
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Borak accepts his damage from Propoket the Many with dignity. Indeed, Propoket is a Wise and Most Noble diety. He is right to enfore his will. The pain only serves to increase Borak's focus. ...which is all according to the Plan!
"Ah ha! Now we ride, Halwyr! Let us go forward for the glory of the Hand and smite our enemies!" Borak shouts as he follows the mage.
Eldar, as you race across the ruined stage to the generators, you see an orc flying overhead, followed by a few loose scales and teeth. Bolus, your drake form is injured. The orc was a fighter, you have to give him that - your drake form took some serious punishment as you were holding the orc in your jaws. But, with Viola's aid in aiming, Bolus, you managed to land a direct hit!
With a crackling, zapping sound loud enough to draw the attention even of the berserking drake in the crowd, the screaming orc, wailing "AIIEEEEE!" as he falls, lands ass-first on the live, exposed wires of the generator.
This is technology in the hands of orcs. It was just waiting for an excuse to explode anyway. Eldar, you are knocked clear off your feet by the explosion, and you're caught in Bolus-drake's claw before you hit the ground.
The utter destruction of the stage combined with the drakes losing their mind all around them are finally enough to dampen the orcish crowd's spirit for battle. The majority of them break and run, scattering in all directions in a mad panic to get away. Viola's maddened drake gives chase. Overhead, you see some of the other former prisoners of the cage, now riding...pegasi? One of them looks like a hobgoblin and is screaming about glory, and the other two grim-looking riders are the elves Halwyr and Dambreth, as different as two elves can be.
Viola, you're unconcerned with what that crazy mage is doing. Where's your stuff? You think back, before you woke up in the cage being suspended over the crowd. Even your unconscious mind keeps the barest track of where you are and where you're going as you move - product of living the life of a traveler. Your eyes fly open in recollection. The possessions of the prisoners are near the slave pit, deeper into the valley, next to the sacrificial altar where the lightning is coming from!
Olivius, you and Yala dash down the slopes. As you run, you see the blackened, scorched bodies of what you assume to be orcs, laid out all around the field. At the altar, the greenskins that have survived the assault are rallying around the aged orc priest. As you approach, you see him walk up to the body of the drake that Dambreth was possessing. With a vicious howl that is rapidly taken up by the surrounding priestly posse, the high priest raises a two-handed axe over his head and...
Falters. His body unexpectedly weakened, he growls that his second-in-command do it. You see him hand off the axe to another orc, who lifts it high over his head to decapitate the "rogue drake."
Olivius doesn't know that Dambreth isn't still in there, so he quickly motions to Yala and draws a grenade. The pin pops and Olivius lobs it low. He aims to skip it across the ground and into the outer orcs of the group in an effort to shield Dambreth-drake from the explosion with the bodies of the enemy and distract the high priesthood all in one pair of explosions.
As soon as the grenades are away, he pulls Yala into cover behind the scalded body of a particularly large orc to avoid the flash and any shrapnel that might come his way.
Bolus flips Eldar up onto his Drake back and, if he can see Olivius and Yala, will charge after them on the ground through the fleeing orcs.
"All right, head for the beacon!" Halwyr yells. "I wish I had some grenades..." he mutters wistfully. There were grenades in his father's storehouse and at HQ, why didn't he ask for any? Nearing the beacon, he stops thinking about grenades and focuses his will, channeling more gouts of elemental energy. Hellfire, fiendish lightning, rimed frost, and powerful sonic vibrations leap from his outstretched hand towards the beacon.
The worst part about Viola talking so much, is that she does it so fast.
Viola shudders as the Skeleton lands in the saddle behind her. Yuck. Dead things. Yuck. Or, well, partially dead things. Still yuck! She subconsciously scoots forward in the seat.
Despite how uncomfortable she is, she begins the drums of war, giving Bolus the same beneficial effect as she'd given the warlord earlier... anyone who aids him in his actions is going to be in sync.
But there's also a darker side to her magic in this case.
Drawback to her most recent use of Synchronicity... or someone aiding her. XD
Dambreth relies on the natural affinity that he's always had with animals and somehow directs the Pegasus to carry him back to the beacon. He arrives just in time to see a flash of an explosion and hear the BOOM as Olivius perfectly thrown grenade lands amidst the Orcs. "Down, down..." Dambreth yells at his mount pointing at the beacon...swooping the decaying Pegasus drops from the skies towards the Orcs around the beacon as Dambreth takes aim and shoots the now ancient Orc priest with his stun gun.
Yala follows your lead immediately, Olivius, and your two pineapples soar overhead. The second-in-command is just bringing down the axe when a pair of explosions immediately to his left and just before him knock him off his feet. The old priest, nearby, screams in rage and begins to gather energy for a retaliatory spell!
You count 5 surviving orcs, plus the priest and his second. With admirable discipline, the orc honor guard - decked out in armor that looks like this, fall into a defensive position around the priest and unsling their weapons. Two of them have morningstars, the other three are carrying long rifles.
The orc priest sees you, Olivius. "There! TWO HUMANS!!" he calls out in Common, shouting to his guards. "BRING ME THEIR HEADS..." and his shouting is suddenly interrupted!
Dambreth, who had pulled out ahead of Halwyr and Lord Borak, dives screaming headlong at the orcs gathered around the altar! His stun gun flares with a brilliant white light, and the orc priest takes a direct stun gun shot to the chest! Only his orcish constitution prevents him from being completely knocked out, but the spell he was casting was completely ruined! He staggers backward a few steps, glaring up at the pegasus. "MORE?" he cries out.
The priest staggers back to a safer distance, seeing Bolus-the-Drake charging at him. "Ahhhh, now I see..." he shouts in cruel satisfaction. He makes a gripping motion at Bolus, and shouts a word none of you recognize.
Bolus, you're stopped in your tracks. The ghosts have been purged from you! You no longer feel their wailing presence, the additional control they exerted over the drake! The drake's true personality is surging to the surface, and it wants to aid its master. Give me a Defy Danger: Wisdom roll to see if your personality, working alone, can subdue the drake's powerful will! Viola, your magics are giving him the edge he may need to survive this, but if he fails...you're going to be riding a drake that doesn't want you on its back. What do you do?
In the skies above, Halwyr is attempting to gather the magics needed to strike at the beacon. He's interrupted, however, by a bolt of purplish lightning that strikes his mount! The temporal energies of the beacon cause the mount's rotting to be rapidly accelerated, and you suddenly find yourself on a very temperamental skeletal pegasus. It turns its head to look at you with a fiery eyeball glowing with hatred and prepares to buck you off. What do you do?
As the dragon starts to act up, Viola gets a little more cozy... wrapping the reins around herself to tie herself to the creature... which could be a very bad idea. But the alternative is getting dumped in the middle of a dozen orcs, and being dropped during a particularly violent Aileron Roll.
Seeing the Orc get hit by some sort of lightning, Viola goes for another arrow (if she has it) and fires it towards him, even in the midst of his ruined spell!
Uh oh, Halwyr has time to think before he jumps to Borak's mount, screaming, YAAAAAAAAAH!"
(Somewhat) safe with Borak, he stretches a free hand at the priest and his honor guard, suddenly clenching his fist! Now mimicking the movements of his hand is a wall that only his targets and he can see. As the fist clenches, the wall shrinks, terrifying the subjects and slowly 'crushing' them!
Bolus feels the Drake's mind re-taking its rightful place. Desperately Bolus tries force of personality where force of will failed.
Trying to telepathically communicate Bolus says
"Yes more!" Dambreth yells as he throws himself off the rotting Pegasus and swan dives at the Orc priest.
Olivius was more than prepared to blow the rest of the orcs to kingdom come, but then Dambreth, the real one, goes diving at the old orc. Now that option was out the window. Things were rapidly devolving into his least favorite option: melee.
On the other hand, Dambreth may provide the prefect distraction.
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Trying to stimulate the dragon's previous understanding that she was friend, not food, she pulled on the reigns with her legs (which the reins were now solidly wrapped around), to stimulate its 'I have a rider' instincts, while massaging an area between its shoulder and the base of its neck to hopefully stimulate a safety response with her arrow arm.
She tried to guide the creature with a combination of her hips and the reigns.
Those of you on the ground can see Bolus-drake shudder when struck by the old priest's spell, then shake its head and turn left, going off in the direction that Viola directs it. The drake is carrying two elven riders - Eldar, and Viola.
Viola's soothing words are not just words, they tie with the enchantment she wove around you earlier, Bolus-drake. A drake you remain!...for now. Though you almost lose control entirely when the drake's latent personality revives, Viola's words bring clarity to the chaos within your mind, and your vision clears. Even as you regain control, however, you realize it isn't the same. One more failure, or even a partial success at the wrong time, could buck your consciousness back to your own body, like a rider being thrown from an angry stallion.
Speaking of angry stallions, directly over the beacon, Borak is barely able to cling on to his comrade elf's arm as he leaps from his skeletal pegasus. The undead beast howls in a voice no equine should have, spreading its bony wings and flying away. In no time at all, it reaches the building Viola recognizes from her memories of her capture.
Halwyr, heedless of the danger to himself, flings out one hand at the orcs below. So reckless was his casting that the canny honor-guard orcs were able to escape the clutching grasp of the spell. The old priest himself, though, is caught in it! Unable to move, the priest is barely able to raise a ward around himself in time before your prison crushes him. Roll your damage -2 from his defensive spell.
"Daaragah!" one of the honor guards roars, pointing upward. His three fellow guards with long rifles raise them to their shoulders and take aim at you, firing twin shots! One of them wings your shoulder - dealing 1d6 damage, and threatening to knock your hold loose! What do you do?
Borak, your mount's flesh is impacted by the other shot, knocking some flesh loose and accelerating its necrotic transformation. What do you do?
One of the remaining honor guards, clutching his wicked-looking mace with both hands, tries to intercept Dambreth's mad swan-dive at his priest with a roaring backwards leap, like a wide receiver playing Orcball (a game with inspirations drawn from soccer, rugby, and 12th century warfare). The two of them tumble end over end, the cleric trying to get his stun gun in position, the orc trying to swing his mace properly. You manage to stun the orc you're tussling with, Dambreth, and you avoid taking any yourself due to your elven agility - but you do find yourself very exposed and less than 15 feet away from the entire 5-man honor cadre!
It looks grim, for a moment - then Olivius is suddenly there, with his rapier protruding from the nearest orc's chest! The keen, blood-soaked blade gleams in the light for a moment before Olivius rips it out again in a reverse whirl that completely eludes the grievously injured orc's counterattack.
Olivius, you size up the threats around you.
Orc 1 (Morningstar, just stabbed by Olivius): 2/12 HP, mortally wounded/becoming enraged
Orc 2 (Morningstar, "caught" Dambreth): 8/12 HP, stunned
Orc 3 (Rifle, firing at Halwyr): 6/8 HP
Orc 4 (Rifle, firing at Lord Borak): 8/8 HP
Orc 5 (Rifle, firing at Halwyr): 7/8 HP
High priest orc: 17/17 HP - Halwyr's damage, temporarily crushed in Halwyr's spell
Bolus, screeches in drakeish
Barely in control he doesn't move to break the spell the elf on him cast just yet.
"The one called Viola. Get me close to the green (?) One using profane powers to combat us? I will bring the wrath of Death on him" as he readies his sword. Once again the energies of the Wraithlands augment his weapon to fight those who are still anchored to the material realm
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"Oh my gods, it can talk. And it knows my name. What fresh hell is this..?" she sighs, shuddering again. "I... uh. Okay, we will totally go with that!" She begins to try to guide the drake towards the remaining melee!