Feel free to dot the thread. Play will begin when we finish up in the Discussion thread.
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The sun is shining bright overhead; An otherwise beautiful day if not for the ringing of your head and the cold of the river still clinging to you. You remember flashes of chaos, noise, darkness.
It started with trembling, then the earthquakes. The beautiful yet humble architecture of the Great Library went first, and its ancient knowledge with it. Then the trade quarter, the Temple, the Hall of Elders. A pink light shining from the depths of the earth. In fact, you can see it from here in the form of a colossal crystal hanging in the air above what once was the village.
You probably didn't have much time to react. How did you even end up here, on the banks of one of Chromia's many rivers?
Scattered around you are broken pieces of rubble, wooden planks, a basket here, a few trinkets there.
Your gear is scattered in a heap around you too, it will take a little time to put it all back in order, assess the damage, and set it all to dry.
As the ringing in your ears subsides, you see a few familiar faces scattered around you. A stout dwarf, A blue headed Erze in dark mail, a brightly armoured foreigner, a man in strange robes all sopping wet, another man with the markings of a ferret - assuredly touched by the Valley.
You see a others too, garbed in humble clothes excepting their bold red sashes and bandannas. 6 of them in all, rifling through the scattered belongings and pocketing what they can. From their accents its obvious to you all, but these people aren't from Chromia.
You hear it now, clearly, the shrill cry of a girl in peril from somewhere beyond. The 6 red sashes pay it no attention.
You hear a gagging, retching noise from one. "Hrrk. What in the Eight-Divines is that? "
"That's one of them Stickies - the Ooze people."
"Disgusting."
"Get a move on would ya, anything valuable? Load it up!"
Each of you has what you were wearing (including armour), but the rest of your gear - including your weapons - is being loaded up by three of the rebels into a small wheel barrow on the trail ahead.
What do you do?
--------World Building--------
Onick, what foreign power do the Red Sashed Rebels represent?
From behind the red sashes, a blast of shadow comes to blow off one of the wheels of the wheelbarrow...and probably one side of it altogether, but that's another matter. They shouldn't be stealing.
"Well, aren't you rude!" Laguna stands where he was laid before, hand wreathed in shadow for another blast...just in case. "Can't say I know who you are, or what you're doing here, but you're still stealing our belongings. Regardless of what happened, I'm still the local guard lieutenant. I hear a little lady in need of help, so I'd like not to waste time here."
The tendrils that form his 'hair' stretch out and move as he amps up the shadow, now starting to cover his arm. "I don't wanna fight you. I mean, I will if I have to, but it's not going to be pretty when I have to look at it later. So would you mind just moving on and leaving us be with our things? If you really want weapons or whatever that badly, there's probably better places to get them. It's easier for all of us if you leave us be."
Laguna didn't trust them. They didn't speak like any kind of decent people. But maybe they'd back off, and save him time better used helping his friends and that girl. As it was, his head was still ringing, and that would not work in his favour.
Slowly coming back to her senses, Sarthel is first aware of a young child's crying, which is what serves to get her on her feet.
But then, as her vision clears, she sees...figures in red...picking things up. Wait a minute, that's some of *her* stuff they've got!
"Hey, leave my stuff alone!" is all the warning she bellows, before blasting one of them with her mind :
= Success!
Also, spending 1 focus : she stretches out her hand, and a short but sturdy stick with a crystal bonded to one end that is lying nearby, among the men, suddenly flies up and into her waiting hand!
Watching the unfortunate target of her mental attack stagger and drop what he's holding, she continues to bellow "Drop what's in your hands and leave now, or you'll all get more of that!"
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Rankev slowly comes to and immediately starts a running monologue on the state of things. "Oh confound what hath befallen me? Why art mine robes damp? Damp? Damp I say? I am sopping wet! By all the powers hast a river vivisected the library? No! 'Tis not the library at all! I am out amongst the fields!
Oho! Look you Laguna! How hast thou fared? Oh! What do you now? O egad 'tis hard to stand. And where is mine book? And mine staff? And mine poultices? And...oh dear I see now, I hath been beset! By thieves! Foul ruffians!
Hast thou waylaid me in skuldugerous wiles and then taken mine possessions? Hast I been left for dead amongst the field and the flotsam by thee? Nay! I say thou hast done a fair poor job of it!
Ah! Sarthel, ist thou here to do more mischief? Nay! Ha! 'Tis the way! Give 'im a right thumping!
Ah! Laguna! Now I see! Yes, let them not be off with thy illgotten gains!
Thou shalt now see thast thou shalt not disturb with the affairs of wizards!"
Power draws green, glowing sigils into the their air, their writhing runs arc and crackle, at last unleashing their stored arcane power into the bandit nearest to the wheelbarrow
Teren's mind clears slowly, his human self gradually pushing the animal spirits aside as he pushes himself up on all fours; as his head clears, he stands and looks around. Laguna, that wizard, Onick, strange dwarf, men in red... screaming? "Laguna, I'm going to go check on that voice" Teren calls, before turning and starting to run toward the crying voice. As he does, he gradually leans forward, and takes on the shape of Old Man Mellen's hound, bounding through the terrain.
Laguna looks to his...rather aggressive companions. Then back to the red sashes. Well, the girl would be safe with Teren. Guess that was one less worry. Meanwhile, we had a group of racist thieves. "Seems my friends aren't as nice as I am. Guess that means we're fighting. Shoulda listened!" Darkness wreathes his body, flowing toward his arm as he hurls a dark blast toward Rankev's target.
"Not too late to leave!"
Sarthel, the rebel loading your gear jeers at your cries first "Nothing personal shorty, Landal says we need to hrkk-" then your mental assault hits him. It's more than a love-tap. The power of your telekinetic blast folds him inward, as if a great force was crushing him up like an old piece of parchment. The blast sends him flying into a tree 20 feet away, impacting with such great force that the massive pine begins to groan and splint under the impact. Branches shake, and the enormous trunk beings to fall, right in the direction of Onick's still motionless body.
You notice briefly, as you regain your senses, that the manifestations of the rebels' emotions are jumpy, fragmented, and churning beneath the waves of their psyche. Emotional, no control, easily influenced.... hormonal? It then occurs to you that none of your assailants are older than the age of 16.
A moment of stunned silence passes as the rebels look between each other and Sarthel in horror.
Rankev, your magic missiles - runes of the arcane steaming behind them - sear through the rebel handling the wheelbarrow, which he upends all over himself as he topples over lifelessly.
Teren, as you take the form of Old Man Mellen's Hound, you feel a pinprick of heat in your mind: it feels like the old man and his hound made it out of Chromia alive too. Just like the Old Man, his hound is getting on in years too, you trade your sharp human vision for the old dog's and the world becomes greyer, people look like vague blurry shapes rather than crisp outlines... Your moves are:
* Pick up a scent
* Eat rotten scraps with delight
* Play dead
As you bound through the woods, you hone in on the sharp crying of a girl mixed in with a slow mechanical grinding....The old windmill! Right on the edge of Chromia's borders.
Amidst that, you hear sounds of battle from whence you came, and the trampling of footfalls - dozens of them, coming from down the trail and approaching your comrades back at the river.
Laguna familiar dark energy courses through your veins and out of your hands. Your black bane engulfs another rebel. The shadows spread over their body and in a moment of darkness you hear a wail and the heavy breathing of agony. Still alive, but stained with black energy all over, the rebel writhes in pain and starts muttering what must be prayers in his foreign tongue. He completely drops his woodcutter’s axe and the gear he was holding – which look to be your healing potions. You hear a gentle tinkle as cracks start to form on their fragile glass.
“Sam, Kem!” “Billi! No!!” The other 3 rebels take stock of their dead comrades, with a nod the smallest one - a young girl with fair hair and a dirty face – flees down the path behind them shouting bloody murder in a foreign tongue.
The other two look back at you with dark eyes. They’re resolved. Each of them bites their forefinger and wipe a line of blood down their foreheads “You Chromian monsters!
They charge, axes overhead in a killing blow right at the closest target… Rankev
What do you all do?
The hound's instinct takes over for a moment, and Teren throws back his head and lets out a howl of warning. He then sets off again at a brisk pace toward the mill, and the crying voice.
Here is some basic geography, more of the geography will unfold as we define it through actions and moves.
-----Geography-----
A river, with the players washed up on the bank. Before them, their scattered belongings and 6 rebels with a wheelbarrow. Make that two corpses, a rebel dying in agony as shadows crawl over his body, and a rebel girl fleeing down the path.
A line of trees flanks the river on the steep bank slopes, dense shrubbery within. A well worn path parts the forest behind the rebels.
--------------------
"Excuse me? You remember who was stealing from who again, just being rude in general?" Laguna rushes in to cover for Rankev, intent on making sure he's safe from the axes.
He takes one of the blows himself, and looks his attacker in the eye. "I gave you the chance to avoid this, but you decided it was a good idea to antagonise us instead. Two of your friends are dead, and one's in a lot of pain right now. Please, just back off. The one I hit is in a lot of pain, but that means they're alive, and I think they'd appreciate a friend right now. They were carrying my potions, and one of them should fix them up if they're still intact. I did hear them starting to crack though, so that might not be an option for long. Leave us be. See to your friend. You can use one of my potions if they're intact. I don't want you to die too. Call me what you like, I'm giving you the choice here - do you want to keep fighting a fight you aren't going to win, or do you think your friend there needs your help more?"
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Rankev's eyes go wide as the brace of ruffians seek to engage in fisticuffs. "Egad! Yon pair of ruffians rush to engage me in fistifcuffs!
Ah! Much gratitude sir Laguna!" Rankev always defers to the male where such things are in doubt. "Ah! Now you see your folly! For, heretofore unknown to you, the mantra of wizards state that the best defense...
...is moar dakka."
His hands slash through the air quickly in the practiced motion, sending another volley of azure bolts arcing to the foeman.
Hope that clears it up. If you guys are all agreeing that I'm playing too hard, then please let me know. I will say that I am going to make you guys work for it, but I've always wondered what's the point in doing your average level1 goblin-stomp? Everyonr knows how that goes down, let's get into the thick of it straight away!
Sarthel runs over to the prone form of Onick, and tries to pull him out of the way :
And easily manages to get him out of the way of the falling tree!
Onick is jostled from unconciousness by a stout dwarf pulling him from the ground. His mind is forced to alertness by the crashing of giant limbs and the earth shaking force of the great tree smashing into the ground only inches in front of him. Coughing through the dust and debris, Onick grabs instinctively at his medallion with one hand while reaching out toward Sarthel with the other. "I'll follow you to safety." Onick says, stumbling away from the tree through the dust. Coughing, and slowly regaining his senses Onick hears the shrill cry of a girl somewhere in the distance. Nearly tripping over his spear, he hoists it from the ground while running to catch up with the dwarf who saved his life.
Laguna hears the sound of the man he was with before all this pulling himself together. He can't really look at the moment, what with keeping the axe from hitting Rankev and all, but he does his best to shout back to him. "Hey, whoever you are, they're taking our stuff! Think you can convince them to stop it?"
Teren, your dog howl echoes through the valley, the birds going quiet for a moment. You reach a clearing where the girl's screaming has turned to sobbing. You hear a man's muffled voice. You hear something else too, familiar chirping and squeaking…. A Crossie?
The scene before you lies thus: The old windmill churning slowly in the breeze, it's tall and well built, but overgrown with shrubbery and creepers all along it. A crossie in a cage, a little girl crying and trying to free it, a woman in solid armour – a knight - with a red cloak and sword drawn… but she looks like he’s trying to protect the girl – whilst pulling her away from the cage. The Knight is scanning the treeline, looking for some threat. It's clear she heard something, maybe a loud noise, from your direction... maybe your howl?
There’s more here too, a cart with a broken axle, crates full of scavenged goods and supplies, signs of a small encampment behind the windmill.
The Crossie is thrashing about anxiously. This one looks like a plush tree bear with a pair of small pigeon wings on its back. You smell its fear. It looks so soft and so biteable. You’d love to grab it by the scruff and just throttle it.
The girl you’re not sure of, but she smells familiar. Maybe if you got a closer look you’d recognise her.
Sarthel, your dwarven strength is more than enough to throw the Paladin clear. Just in time too, as the colossal tree groans lands across the bank - its topmost branches even reaching across to the other riverbank. You think that, if it took your fancy, you could use it to shimmy across the river safely.
Onick, in your confusion you run right over to Sarthel who is standing right next to you. You see the scene of battle around you, dead bodies, blood, scattered gear, and your friends in peril. What do you do?
Laguna, it’s clear from their actions that the time for talk is over. You manage to place yourself in the path of the rebels just in time before their blows collide with Rankev. Their axe swings hit you instead and they knock you over – you spend your 1 and only hold and are no longer standing in defence of Rankev. Will you be able to get up in time to spare him another blow?
----- Laguna you take 1d6+1 damage-----
Rankev, you blow holes in one of the axe wielding rebels whose axe just bit into Laguna, he slumps over, dead as anything. The remaining one is close enough now that his axe strike is going to hit true. It’s clear he’s willing to die and join all his friends. You’re going to eat damage unless you defy the danger of being struck. You could always engage him in a melee with your Hack and Slash, but you know from experience that if you cast a spell in close quarters like this you’re going to eat an axe blow!
What do you do?
The beast-man from earlier? What is he doing here? No time to worry about that now, he's right.
Onick spots the men- no boys- gathered around the wheelbarrow. With a quick glance back at the dwarf Onick breaks toward the boys. As he bounds across the rocky beach he notices their red sashes.
Those red sashes, where have I seen those before? Of course!The Bloodcloaks! But here? They are but children, how could this be?
As the two youths are engaging Rankev and Laguna, Onick sprints for the wheelbarrow were his spear lies among the toppled gear. He reaches for it, feels it's familiar heft and lunges for the nearest red sashed youth.
Teren trots into the clearing, tail down. The hound cuts a circle around the knight, toward the girl, nuzzling the girl and starting to lick her tears.
Teren, no defy danger needed at all. The knight looks visibly relieved that it's just a dog, what could have gotten her so on edge?
"No! Please it's just Old Mellen's hound!" The girl runs past the knight and clings to you sobbing.
The knight sheaths her sword "Inlandt de sorre! Behold girl, the cur hath too been changed." She says, cautiously referring to your strange ferret markings. "We should put it out of its misery, lest it turn.... as the sprites did." She draws a small knife and approaches sympathetically.
The Crossie looks indignant at that. Teren, can Crossies speak? Either way, this one's eyes go wide with hope when it sees you. Looks like it knows you're more than just a hound.
You recognise the faint scent of paper and candle wax on the girl. That's right, this is Mirabelle, the chandler's daughter. Not a day older than 10. She used to run errands and messages in the town, and do odd jobs around the Great Library - returning books to shelves, dusting, and so on. She was the fastest runner in the village, no wonder she made it out alive. She ran a few messages between farmhouses for you too Teren.
The knight's armour and speech are strange. Definitely not from Chromia.
If you'd like anything in greater detail here feel free to discern realities or spout lore. But the knight is approaching you now with hunting knife in hand.
Teren puts his paws around the girl, and then pushes the hound's spirit to the back of his mind. The hound grows, stretches, and the druid is facing the knight, holding the girl in his arms. " It's me, Mirabelle. Teren." He looks up at the knight, and says " Hello. I'm Teren. May I ask what brings you to these lands?"
Sarthel focuses her attention on the hoodlum who's about to strike Rankev :
(Forceful and Messy)
But her concentration is distracted by everyone's shouting, and hardly does any damage to him.
= 4 total (Forceful and Messy)
And the strength of her mind rips him apart!
The blows fail to even scratch him as he steps in to assist Rankev, but they still have enough force to knock him off his feet. A growl escapes his mouth as he hits the ground, his good nature is starting to falter as protective instinct begins to dominate his mind. They're not even listening. Too caught up in bloodlust and wanting to kill the 'monsters'. I hope these lot aren't like everyone else from their home." His gaze fixes on the only one still standing - even now, they're trying to kill Rankev, without regard to their own health or anyone else's.
Laguna tries to scramble to his feet in time to take the blow again for the now screeching wizard...
...but can't find his feet fast enough. He refused to let this just happen though. He gathers a smaller ball of shadow, and flings it for his attacker's legs. It would seep into their flesh and be generally agonising, but hopefully it would just drain the strength from them instead of killing them altogether. It'd been such a long time since he'd had to seriously use the shadow to fight something that he'd forgotten just how harmful it was. Hopefully the other person he'd hit could still be helped.
We’ve got Sarthel’s successful telekinetic strike for 1 damage, forceful and messy. We’ve got Rankev’s partial success from dodging the attack. We’ve got Laguna’s failed DD+DEX. Onick’s failed Hack and Slash.
So here’s what I think happens.
Rankev , your billowing wizard sleeves fly up in a pathetic defence. Thankfully it’s not a seasoned warrior your facing up against. What happens is that the axe strike doesn’t connect with your body at all, but its blunt edge tears partway through one of your sleeve and gets caught there. You’re now intertwined with each other – a mess of arms and legs “Grr! Damnit get off me you heathen!” .
Laguna you faceplant right behind Rankev as you roll your ankle on the slick stones of the riverbed. You don’t take any damage, but your head rings. Incidentally, from your new vantage point you notice something from across on the other side of the river. You can’t quite make out its form, but it’s big, hiding in the shade of the trees and the shrub. A pair of pink glowing eyes watching your every move.
Sarthel, your deft telekinetic strike blasts true, but your 1 damage is rebuffed by the Rebel’s armour – cheap peasant clothes padded with thick wool. However, the blast is so messy and forceful that it shreds his clothes armour leaving him with nothing but a bare chest and knocks him clear into the river with a loud Wilhelm scream. Rankev, you’ve not got a handaxe lodged in your sleeve, but no rebel accosting you. Feel free to add it to your inventory; it’s got range of close, 1w
It’s at this point that Onick charges in head first! His head must still be ringing from the Catastrophe though. Onick, perhaps it was because your foe who was standing before you just got blasted into the river you’ve mistimed your swing! You recoil at the last second to avoid giving your ally Rankev the pointy end of your spear, but you trip right over the prone Laguna.
Onick, you’ve landed up back in the river! Your heavy armour dragging you down as the water begins to wash you downstream. It might be a struggle to get out by yourself, especially with that heavy armour!
The Rebel begins blubbering around, trying to fight the force of the river but failing. The fear of drowning overcoming him, he starts calling desperately for help! The rest of you start hearing shouting and footsteps coming from a path– did you hear a howl a moment ago too? What do you do?
-----Geography-----
The River is about 20 metres across, and deep enough that you’d be up to your eyes. It’s moving swiftly, fast enough that you’d need some way to help you cross it to avoid simply being swept downstream as Onick is.
The fallen tree covers around 15 metres from your side to the opposing side, and is upstream of Onick and the rebel.
A path lies just beyond the wheelbarrow, on your side of the river, and that where the footfalls and shouting are coming from.
---------------------------
Teren, you recognise the symbol on her blood red cloak. It’s a coat of arms of two crossed hands, grasping one another. They're from a land somewhere in the North, tell me what it was called. You’ve heard that they’re known as the Bloodcloaks in part due to their purification rituals involving blood, and in part due to their wartorn history. Where did you learn this?
Teren, the Knight falls flat on her rear in shock with a yelp, her knife scatters across behind her. She looks at you with wide eyes “Maral Dast! … Declare yourself, creature. Be ye friend or foe?” it’s clear she’s never seen anything like your transformation before.
" Usually, I claim friends with any who travel here. I'd like to stick with that, though it's a fairly unusual day so far." Teren pauses to study the knight for a moment. " So, what brings a Scalian to Chromia? And why do you have a caged landservant?" Teren swings Mirabelle up so she's riding on his shoulders, and uses the motion to study the cage briefly before returning his gaze to the knight.
Rummaging quickly thru the debris scattered over the ground, Sarthel finds a length of rope, and running up to the edge of the river, throws one end to Onick
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Rankev puts his hands up and the onrushing foe misses with his vicious axe. Then he is LAUNCHED away from the wizard and lands in the drink. Rankev stares at his hands. "I never knew I had it in me! Oh look! And I hath relieved the foe of his axe of the hand! Surely this is a fortuitous turn of events!
Ah! Good Onick, I hath heard thine struggles! Here, I shall come to thine aid!"
The wizard unceremoniously waddles to where Onick struggles in his armor and reaches out his hand.
Alas too many nights spent pouring over arcane tomes and few nights indeed engaged in sword play or physical behavior has left the wizard unable to render effective aid.
Or, really, any aid at all.
Onick sputters and writhes to right himself in the river, now taking swiftly from the rest of the party. Luckily he was able to hold onto his spear, but his armor is rapidly filling with water, pulling him under. It takes all the strength he can muster just to keep his head above water. In once quick glance before his head is pulled under Onick spots Rankev reaching out to him. Onick lunges- attempting to reach Rankev's outstretched hand with the tip of his spear, but the undertow is too strong. His head goes under for a moment and with a great surge he's able to reach the air once again. Onick realizes the only way he will survive is to get this armor off. With a mighty breath as the river once again drags him under its surface Onick plunges the spear head as deep into the riverbed as possible, attempting to make a pole on which to cling and hopefully get this bloody armor free.
Success! Onick plunges the spear deep into the mud and hold on for dear life. Still fighting the treacherous undertow and impossibly heavy armor, Onick clings to the pole with one arm while unfastening his armor with the other. Damn, it will be tough to lose this armor but keeping it will cost me my life.
Onick frees himself of the armor and watches it sink under the water's surface. It's then that he hears the cries of panic behind him. Twisting himself on the spear's shaft, Onick turns just in time to see one of the young rebels careening toward him, wailing and kicking to save his life. Instinctually, Onick reaches out as the young man comes near
Laguna lets out a noise of surprise when Onick trips over him and into the river. When he looks up, he's anchored himself into the riverbed, so it seems he's alright for now...but the red-sash is going to get swept away and drown without help. There's that thing across the river too.
He gets up and rushes to the wheelbarrow, grabs his bardiche, and hurries back. He sees Rankev getting dangerously close to the edge trying to reach Onick, and yanks him away before he falls in.
With him away, he gestures across the river. "Rankev, there's something over there. The big thing with the glowing pink eyes. You have any idea what it is?"
As he talks, he turns over the bardiche, reaching out the end without the axe head to the rebel. "Grab on!" The moment it seems they have a grip, he hauls them in.
Rankev, mark XP. You wade in too deep in your attempt to help Onick! I have two options for you. You can be swept away by the river along with those you were trying to help, or you can brace yourself and keep your footing, but you’ll get the shakes from the biting cold of the river and take a debility against your DEX. Your choice!
Sarthel, I’ll count that as a use of your adventuring gear, please mark it off your profile and add a rope (10 metres, 0 weight). We’ll say you’ve managed to grab the rest of your belongings as well. I don’t think you need to roll. You rush to the river bank and toss one end in the water, it bobs near to Onick but falls about 1 metre short of his position. He might be able to grab it if you find a way to bridge the gap.
Onick, you’ve firmly planted yourself in the middle of the river using your spear. You’re not going to be washed away so long as you hold it. I don’t think you need to roll for Aid on the Rebel, you’re able to grab him as well – he’s passed out from shock and the choking cold of the water. Sarthel’s rope has landed just 1 metre up stream. How are you going to reach it with one hand on the Rebel and another on the shaft of your spear?
Laguna, you know your strength, and measure up against the river. You’ll have to wade in to the river if you want to help them. I think your partial success means that you can haul in Onick, or the rebel, but not both at once. I’m skipping your second DD as the fiction doesn’t follow from the consequence of your partial success.
Teren, the Knight looks at you curiously “Landservant? The sprite? Be warned friend… it may yet transf’rm once again. It hath been hunting us in its TRUE form. A beast… claws sufficient to rend stone and metal, black wings in the night. A mouth large enough to swallow our horses whole. Baleful eyes of hateful pink in the dark….Not three night hence did it find us in the wood, slaying us in droves, Scalian and Chromian alike.”
Both the Knight and Mirabelle go quiet at the memory. The Crossy looks… uncomfortable, remorseful.
The Knight speaks again, “We struck the beast, and in the melee did dislodge this." She reaches within her breastplate and, using a dark cloth holds forward a small, pink, crystal. Alike to the one hanging in the sky above Chromia.
"Once it had shrunk to this form before us, the girl Mirabelle did petition us to spare it… perhaps you might explain why you Chromians show mercy to such demons?” You hear the challenge in her voice.
" Did you say three nights? What day is it?"
Teren, I think its fine to double up in your post given that one doesn't prohibit the other.
For Crossies and their transformative behaviour? You know something interesting - which is that Crossies are highly adaptable creatures, always being in magical confluence with the lands they inhabit.
The Knight begins to answer, using Scalian calendar systems. Third Season of Watchers of the Blue Dragon, Forge in Ascendancy, Second span of the bimonth of Blackholdt. When you put it all together you realise there's a gap... it's a full two weeks later than you thought it was.
For what you know about pink crystals? Well, nothing comes to mind. But as you gaze into its facets, a gentle glow starts emanating within. It's utterly captivating, you wonder what it feels like to hold. Maybe if you could just touch it.... its pull is nearly irresistible. You hear the sound of Mirabelle and the Crossie start yelping, but their voices sound distant. There's movement from the Knight too, but her shape is a slow blur.
The world starts fading into memory and the pink light seems to start engulfing your very being.
What do you do?
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Rankev abandons the idea as others, more capable, come to the aid, and he'd just as soon not have too many cooks spoiling the pot. Alas, the encountered has left left him somewhat the worse for wear. "Oh the devil! I hath water in mine footwear, and in mine pants and the whole lot of my robes ar't besoaked. Forsooth I am chilled unto the very bone. The very bone I tell you! The very bone hath been chilled. Oh, what I wouldn't give for a hot cup of mulled wine by a roaring fire and an engaging book. Perhaps 'Enquiries' by Herodotus wherein he recounts the courtly ongoings of Siculus the Third and the merry ritual of the serpent column!"
The verbal tirade continues until the wizard is out of the muck and onto comparatively dry ground.
"Eh? What say you Laguna? We art bewatched from some beast or somesort? LEt my espy it and mayhap speak someaught of the origins of this thing."
Rankev looks in the direction Laguna indicates and sees if he remembers anything that would match the description.
As Teren's human mind is lost in contemplation of the crystal, the animal spirits he's linked with begin to surface...
Sarthel’s rope has landed just 1 metre up stream. How are you going to reach it with one hand on the Rebel and another on the shaft of your spear?
"Quickly Dwarf!" Onick shouts through shivering lips and above the pounding in his ears. "A branch from the tree! The rope is out of reach."
Laguna, you know your strength, and measure up against the river. You’ll have to wade in to the river if you want to help them. I think your partial success means that you can haul in Onick, or the rebel, but not both at once. I’m skipping your second DD as the fiction doesn’t follow from the consequence of your partial success.
Onick...How are you going to reach it with one hand on the Rebel and another on the shaft of your spear?
Looking things over, Laguna realises Onick is unable to grab on and the rebel is too unconscious to do much of anything. Dropping his bardiche onto the ground, he wades into the river and takes the rebel from Onick's hand. "Leave it to me!" Keeping a tight grip on their unconscious form, he wades back through the river and places the rebel on the riverside.
There's still one more. Laguna wades back through the river, making his way toward the rope. He grabs onto it with one hand, and reaches for Onick with the other, bracing against the riverbed as he bridges the gap.
"Grab on!"
Onick, by hooking him through the sash, you’re able to maintain your grasp on both for the time being! No roll needed.
Rankev, you can’t make out what the beast is from here - but you know something interesting and useful about the glowering eyes in the shadow. They say the eyes are a window to the soul and so you know that the creature is under the effect of strange and powerful magic – and by the hue of them, probably the same type of magic as the crystal that’s hanging in the sky above Chromia. The useful part is that crystals require the touch of skin to unleash their full power, meaning that this creature likely has a pink crystal somewhere in its body, creating the magical effect - if you dislodge it, the magic effect will end! Where’d you learn this?
Sarthel, the way I’m imagining it is that you positioned yourself as best as you could before you threw the rope, which included things like moving to get the best geometry, judging the flow speed of the river etc – so if you want to go 1 metre in, you’ll defy the danger of being swept away like everyone else. Thankfully you see Laguna wade in fearlessly to start hauling them all in….
Laguna, you feel the biting cold of the river. Like Rankev, you feel the cold chill you to the bone…. Do the Erze even have bones? Nevertheless, your partial means that if you want to brave the river a second time to bridge the gap for Onick you’ll have to take a debility against your DEX just like Rankev. That’s your hard bargain.
As all of this happens, the huge pink eyes narrow, and an enormous black paw emerges from the bushes beneath it. The paw looks big enough to rend a horse to pieces with but a swipe. You all hear a low rumbling, mixed with strange musical harmonics… an otherworldly magical growl as the beast begins a slow stalk into the open. What do you do?
Teren, I love the idea of a crow spirit lying somewhere in your psyche keeping an eye out for you. As the pink engulfs you, you suddenly hear a crow cawing loudly from within. The crow tries to intercede for you, but in doing so it endangers itself. Your ugly choice is that you can either let the crow take your place and injure itself in the process – it will be magically changed, and you won’t be able to take its form until you find the original and restore it, or you can give yourself over to the crystal’s influence and spare the crow. If you do the latter, I’ll come up with a custom move for you to roll to figure out exactly what it will do to you.