Dungeon World - Strom's Six (Inactive)

Game Master Infernal Zero

MWG hears a faint hum coming from the panel that Yizid's been fiddling with. It sounds as if it's recharging.

MWG waits patiently.

As soon as the Herald, Bikke, and Terrestria pass through the teleporter, Yizid hears what sounds like a gasp coming from the place in the ceiling into which they had ascended. He looks at the ceiling, and then turns around to look for what might have made that sound, but he sees nothing.

Bikke marvels the sight with awe, with a little anxiety mixed in the feelings. "Shiver me ever' timber..." He tries to find a direction to go to, but gets lost even before deciding on the path.

"This'ere be one helluva maze. Unchart'd, tha whole arrea. Ye should count yerselv's lucky, 'cause Bikke put taget'er a lubber-proof plan!" The swashbuckler puts a hand in his duffel bag, and produces some foodstuff. "Fixat' yer eyes and all hands hoay. Our crew'll'be leavin' crumbs'o'bread lying aroun'."

He breaks off a tiny portion of his food, and drops it on the floor.

"Gots me a sackfull o' this good stuff! No way in tha seven seas we're gettin' lost!"

(In the absence of Ariadne's thread, I'll stick to another classic: dungeon rations!)

As the piece of food hits the floor, it slowly begins to travel along the path of the strangely fluid ground.

Nice idea. I like it. Don't worry, I can't see how this post could be relevant later.

hey where did my post go

Fizzy does not hear anything in particular. He is too busy talking to the scarf critter. But he hears Yizid turn and he turns to look as well

What?

The Herald examines the threshold, tapping the sides and top with her staff. "Watch your step, dearies. No telling what's a floor here."

Discern Realities: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (1, 2) + 1 = 4

She watches the crumbs as the floor takes them away. It had been a long time since Shvibzik had considered the term "unfathomable" as anything but a challenge, but this wasn't a puzzle. This was a hot mess.

"Arr? Me gots no'ther plans, so these'ere breadcrumbs'll'fta do." Like a man feeding ducks at a pond, Bikke plucks a few more pieces of food rations and drops them as well.

Herald, as you examine the local area, a surge of magic off in the...distance? Catches your attention. Looking over to where it came from, you spot seemingly far away figures on one of the pathways that seem to be paying attention to you. You aren't sure if they were there before.

They break off as they notice you've spotted them, and start moving. It's hard to tell where they're headed due to the contorted space.

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

Yizid, as you look about, you hear a piercing wail - this time, seeming to come from the control panel itself. The sheer volume of it is enough to hurt your head. And as soon as it came, it fades away again.

Nobody else hears a thing, though the elemental about Fizzwiddle's neck shifts its eyes to look at the panel.

The teleporter appears to have recharged by now.

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

What do you do?

"Well, dearies, all we're doing here is waiting to get splinched. Best be on our ways." With that, the crone hikes up her robes and walks out into the decaying metaphysical space. Attempting to bend to the distorted physics of the core, she beings to head "upstream", following the source of the flow at any opportunity.

Defy Danger(INT?): 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (5, 3) + 2 = 10

"Aye aye!" Bikke shouts and starts jogging after the crone. He's anything but sure about what he sees, and even less convinced about the direction they took.

A trail of breadcrumbs follows after Bikke. Some of them wander in the separate directions, however.

(Is there anything nearby that could maybe be broken? Like a door, or a portcullis, or a supporting pillar or ramp perhaps? If so I might brute force my way through the whole wibbly-wobbly spacey-placey.)

Immediate thoughts? You could have at the pathways. It's pretty much certain to lead to unbridled chaos as the liquefied materials that form them are sent flying, and the path itself will likely destabilise, but it could lead to some interesting ways to get from pathway to pathway, to say nothing of what else you could accomplish with such an action.

Apart from that, I wouldn't expect too many fixtures on the pathways themselves. In a gravity induced melt-zone, I wouldn't expect much to remain intact like that, to say nothing of how much will get pulled into the gravity wells. You might find things, be they constructions like the kind you mention or things left behind by other selves, but I wouldn't expect them to remain for too long.

"I heard the control panel wailing," Yizid says, looking at Fizzy and Terestria for affirmation. Except for the elemental, none of the others seem to have noticed.

"We should be able to go through now," he tells them. "If you're ready, I can bring you through, but I would like to make sure that heaven still smiles on our trip." He comes closer to the panel to make sure that nothing had gone wrong.

Spout Lore: 2d6 - 1 ⇒ (6, 1) - 1 = 6

MWG moves over to stand in the "teleport" area.

This is how great adventures begin! Let's go!

Fizzy moves to the spot as well

Bikke refrains from destroying anything, for now. Enough many things can go wrong already.

Does anyone want to aid before we go through?

If someone aids, how will we ever meet Yizzwikke?

"I'm afraid I know nothing about how such magical things work, I fear I may make matters worse if I tried to help."

Seeing no one eager to help, Yizid reluctantly moves to the teleporter with Moves With Grace and Fizzy as he presses the appropriate button on the panel.

You should probably press that not that

2d6 + 1 ⇒ (6, 6) + 1 = 13

last second aid!

It didn’t occur to me earlier, but this actually sounds more like a DR to me, rather than a Spout Lore - as I understood, you were checking the control panel to see if it had anything to do with that wail, rather than seeing if you had an idea what just happened, or why it might have happened, based on your own knowledge of such things. So for now, I'll treat it as such. I'm not going to ignore Fizzwiddle's aid, though. A natural crit is a beautiful thing.
------------
As Yizid presses the button Fizzwiddle pointed him to, an array of translucent pictographs and arcane script springs to life above the panel, hovering in the air. It’s some kind of status panel, or perhaps a diagnostic display. Working alongside each other, the two of you are able to partially decipher the display.

The pictograph for the teleporters seems to indicate nothing wrong with them. Leading into the image depicting the teleportation chamber is another pictograph indicating some sort of container. It’s mostly filled with blue, but there’s a yellow portion to it - more than that, the yellow portion is moving and snaking about amongst the blue.
As far as you can tell, that container holds the energy that powers the teleportation chamber. The way that yellow portion moves though...there’s little doubt in your minds that whatever that yellow energy is and where it came from, it’s alive. (Yizid, Fizzwiddle, take +1 forward when you make use of this information.)

Assuming you still go through and don't investigate further, you teleport to the start of the twisted meltscape without incident, and see Bikke, Terestria and the Herald already navigating throughout it, facing off against another group you don't recognise.

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

With the Herald leading the way, she, Bikke and Terestria are able to make notable progress through the twisted space of the core. About a third(?) of the way across, you find three figures ahead of you, apparently having been waiting atop the seemingly uphill path you were taking.

The figure on the left side of the path reveals itself to be a large mechanical suit that reminds you of the Myrmidon. The design is far more bulky than Gromroir’s, and the pilot is out of sight.
On the right side of the path is an elven woman in leathers with a bow, a longsword, and a glare that would kill a basilisk stone dead if she were to pit her gaze against its.
And standing front and centre is a man covered head to toe in gleaming armour, armed with a winged spear. ”Halt right there! I see you, and I know what foul deeds you seek to commit.” He steps forward, his greaves sinking slightly into the ground as he does. "As a humble servant, I have been taught that none are beyond redemption. Go back from whence you came, and this shall be forgotten." He twirls his spear, and points it toward you catching the light as he does. "But should you seek to continue on your path, then I shall have no choice but to strike you down!"
As he makes his statement, the mech suit comes forward beside him and readies itself for combat, and the elf nocks an arrow and readies herself to fire at a moment's notice. "Turn back now, you three, or face divine fury."

The dramatic effect they were going for is somewhat diminished by the fact they have to keep stepping back to keep their position on the shifting ground.

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

What do you do?

Is the second group present during the speech?

If you teleported right away, yeah.
You'd still have to make your way over to where everyone else is.

Bikke holds still. "Grannie?" He waits for the crone of winter.

(Whatever you do, Herald, I'm going to do the opposite.)

Shvibzik ignores the man with the winged spear and eyes the armor. She waves off Bikke's prompt, "In a place like this? I wouldn't worry too much about fighting- certainly forget about shooting an arrow." She laughs almost a little too hysterically, a dry sound punctuated by a rattling cough. "I'd watch the tin can, though, dearie. Never know what arcana dabblers have uncovered these days."

Spout Lore: 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (5, 6) + 2 = 13
When you Spout Lore or Discern Realities about something magical or otherwise arcane, on a 10+ the GM will also tell you a little-known secret about the subject.

To the three sentinels, The Herald gives a smile. "Are you having trouble with the floor, dearies? I may be able to keep things still for a time if you promise to be good little children."

Just what exactly are you Spouting Lore on, here?

"Ha-harr!" Bikke laughs, "Tha'll never be expectin' me ta challenge'm 'ere!"

He charges forward (or downward, or counter-clockwise, it's hard to tell) to fight the trio, drawing his axe from his belt as he does. While running, Bikke shouts a few threats to intimidate (some more true than others).

"Arrcana or not, ye landlubbers cannae equal Bikke, tha strongest man o' the seven seas!"

"This'ere ax has chopped off more heads than ye lot hav' fingers combined!"

"Yer tin-can will be me dozenth machina remade 'nta scrap metal! Me ax has grown ta like tha taste o' non-organics, arr!"

"An' if ye thinks yer tha first sons o' biscuit-eaters ta stand a chance, ye haven't witn'ssed me current crew! Thar thar ta help me, and each o' them be wort' a shipfull o' ye lot!"

Assuming no one pauses to investigate the living yellow thing inside the energy storage device...

MWG cups his hands around his mouth and shouts as loud as he can to the two groups across the way "BIKKE STAND YOUR GROUND, DO NOT ATTACK THEM! You three, what exactly are the foul deeds you think we came here to commit?"

Nerfed by 4 minutes! Sheesh!

Yizid laughs a bit when he hears about divine fury. "Heaven has given me a sign a short while ago that we are bound to succeed. On what basis do you claim the opposite?"

Just what exactly are you Spouting Lore on, here?

The mech. The Herald doesn't believe the other two could overcome the warped reality here in order to fight effectively.

Fizzy has all sorts of ideas of things to say but all he can come up with is

Yeah!

The Herald senses an intense wave of magical power emanate from behind her.

At that moment, the elf looses an arrow, which flies off over the Herald’s shoulder to strike a target behind. The paladin turns to see what his comrade fired on - and immediately takes up a fighting stance. ”YOU! Why are you here?!”
Behind the Herald and Terestria, a figure emerges, as if from the air itself. The arrow shatters to pieces in the air in front of him, the fragments flying away in all directions - except any that would hit them. By their side, a second figure emerges.
--------------------------
All according to plan. Your entry went ahead as best as could be hoped and more, and the initial protections you set up to prevent any accidents have done their job admirably. Not even your servant took any harm.
The man with the spear seems to recognise you. Their elven friend, too. Of course, the idea that they actually know who you are is ridiculous.
You’re just a Stranger.

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

Terestria readies herself to adopt a new form as the fighting starts. Before the Herald, Bikke and the mech face off, and beyond them the paladin prepares to fight as the elf readies another arrow. Both of them are currently focused on the two new figures that have appeared behind the Herald, summoned in by powerful magic.
The magical signature was very close to that of the Skyruin...they may well have been pulled in by this place.

Off in the distance(?), Moves With Grace, Yizid, and Fizzwiddle see everything unfold as it happens from the entrance. The whole of the twisted core still lies before them, numerous paths leading into the distorted space, all impossible to navigate based solely on spatial reference. Getting to the rest of your group will take a special effort on your behalf.
The elemental about Fizzwiddle’s neck happily mimes blowing in the wind with the tails of its currently scarfy form, indulging in the ambient magic thick in this place.
MWG, Fizzwiddle, I might suggest re-checking your class moves. I promise there’s a reason for it.

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

What do you do?

The Herald spins around to whack the incoming figure with her staff. I'd roll, but I get a feeling that was the introduction for a new PC. Feel free to catch the staff and deliver a one-liner, if you're so inclined.

hmmm not catching your hint. Maybe some kind of ritual, but those take forever

Only if I say so.

You see an older man. Possibly oriental? It's hard to tell.

He's dressed smartly. Finely cut robe and finely cut hat sit atop recently cut hair. He wears strange, dark glasses, so dark that it's hard to tell how he can see out of them. He's...kind. And good-looking. Clearly not a threat. He reminds you of a favorite uncle, or some other older male with whom you had a kind connection.

At his side is a young and curvaceous female. She is as beautiful as he is handsome, but in a more aggressive way. As assertive is her blue-skinned body, she clearly has a deferential manner to the man. She must be either a butler or a bodyguard. But who would want to hurt him?

The space-time behind them is disturbed a third time and...nothing comes out. No one present sees a four-legged wagon, and, even if they did, their brain would not process it, so inconceivable is such an odd thing. So it's absence is not felt.

As if in ironic answer to the question of harm, the elderly winter-mage turns and spins, her weapon held in an expert grip, delivering a powerful attack, perfectly executed.

But the man is simply not there. He's stepped to the side. (Before she even moved?) Almost as if he knew she would attack before she did.

"Impressive, Shvibzik," he says in a deep, friendly voice with a kind grin and the easy familiarity of an old friend. "That's even faster than our last meeting. I had hoped to avoid that...but such is your way." He smiles at the Winter Herald. Right now his name doesn't immediately come to mind, though he does seem at least slightly familiar.

The stranger lifts his gaze, taking in the scene unfolding before him: The pirate, the golem, the arrow shooter...the questioning man before him.

"Apologies, but we've no time for pleasantries. Well now, what do we have here?" he asks of no one and everyone.

The girl behind the man reaches into a sack on her belt and starts tossing out pebbles. She mumbles a little with each throw, sometimes tossing many, sometimes just one. She tosses them near and far. It must be a religious ceremony of some kind.

The stranger turns and sees the paladin, possibly for the first time. He chuckles, deeply and good-naturedly. "Me? You quite well know that _my_ reasons and designs are my own. If I told you then it would go hard with you, for it meant you were part of it.

The moral of the story is that you should find another bone to chase. You are not part of the plan, which makes you an obstacle. And you know what I do with obstacles...."

The stranger never stops smiling.

The Herald completes her spin and thrusts out toward the charging machine. She slides a few inches back as she delivers a lance of carefully shaped light. The ARSL' persistant reality field wouldn't go down with a normal EMP, no. That would defeat the purpose of their manufacture.

After the Last Christmas, rebel engineers built these machines to brave the worldscars and scavenge in the the Winter Queen's domain. It had taken decades to perfect the nutcracker, but time is always on Winter's side.

Counterspell/Cast Spell(Chill them to the Bone?): 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (4, 2) + 2 = 8 possibly a 7
The spell's effects are superficial and temporary. OR (Your spell won't last long - you'll need to hurry to take advantage of it.
AND Your spell affects either much more or much less than you wanted it to.)

Indignant about being called a "heathen doppelganger" and called out for lying, Yizid turns to the somewhat familiar dark stranger to vehemently deny the accusations, before the stranger, or anyone else, forms an unflattering impression of him.

"Did you hear the lies this impertinent elf said about me?" Yizid grumbles. "How am I supposed to do heaven's bidding with them in my way?"

Yizid.
You're nowhere near the guy.
You're right at the start with MWG and Fizzy, and everyone else is a fair ways in.

What is happening? OOOOOOOOOO IDEA! This is just like what the great adventurer Bibblespreak XXXXXXXIVI faced, and he just did a few things...I bet I can do something similar! This is going to be so amazing!

Fizzy starts to gather his magic knowledge into his "ready to use" portion of his brain, as he dos the scarf flaps a little faster

more coming

Fizzy quickly pulls out some colored chalk, he goes with a baby blue as it brings out Yizid's eyes he thinks.

Then he races around everyone drawing a circle, then he runs about scribbling in gnomish, and adds some doodles for style. When he is done he chants and hops about, it is not fully clear what is magic and what is gnomish, but it seems to work

There once were some friends in dungeon-tucketh
Who got separated and thought "this sucketh"
The Fizz hopped all about
Then with a great shout
He found they were all together in a group-huggeth!

HUZZAH! Fizzy shouts to complete his ritual, attempting to bring everyone together in a group hug

It had seemed to me that we were all in front of the paladin and elf. I had been talking to them in the previous scene, and MWG was talking with Bikke. Is it now suddenly impossible to communicate with them because of the distorted space?
I think this is what I was trying to understand when I asked if we were present, but I might have misunderstood the answer, since it sort of leaves both possibilities open.

MWG was also shouting his head off.
The point is mainly that your spacial reference is off. I took presence as meaning that you arrived in the area in time to hear it, not that you were standing alongside the group that went ahead suddenly.
Can you be a little more specific when you mean something like that, next time? The better we can communicate these things, the ah...better.

Also, Fizzy, normally you tell me what you're trying to do, and then I tell you the requirements, but I'm fine just letting that go ahead this once.
I'm not even going to state requirements. That's a goldmine already for me just by letting that go ahead normally. MUHAHAHAHA!

oh I see, never even seen ritual before :)

(Everyone is shouting and talking and monologue-ing and rhyming...)

(Loopy, how feasible would dodging the armor suit be? Is there room for maneuvers?)

Not impossible, but damn hard at the speed it's moving at.
I think I'll wait on you, then resolve Fizzwiddle's ritual. Aside from whether you're harmed, I don't think there's much that it wouldn't derail in terms of further action.

With the mechanical suit charging towards Bikke, he can only do one thing: believe in himself and his ability to take a beating. Instead of trying to evade the attack, the pirate braces himself, using his axe to block and armor to absorb the majority of the impact.

Defy Danger (Con): 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (4, 5) + 2 = 11

Surviving physical dangers was kind of his thing. What's a little brainless machine got that hundreds (if Bikke's tales are to be believed) of rival pirates don't?

Bikke, ever so crafty, grabs the armor suits, hugging it with his axe, and tries to throw it out of balance. In this environment, being thrown off-balance could be devastating to a machine...

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

The stranger continues. He's oration grows, gradually increasing the area his voice encompasses. Though he initially addresses the paladin, it isn't clear if he's the target audience.

"Indeed, you remind me of young officer a I heard about. One day he was sent on hunt, he was told a man was guilty, and that he needed to bring the man in. The officer caught the man, but in the struggle, the man was killed. The officer came in, expecting a commendation, but instead was tried for unlawful murder. He went too far, and didn't think his actions through all the way."

It isn't clear what the stranger is talking about, but his words are so..._moving_. He -really- believes in what he's saying...

Oh hell here we go...Monologue!: 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (5, 3) + 2 = 10

For a moment all stand and stare, enthralled by the odd man's story. Even, perhaps, the mech charging the pirate might take pause, and stand enraptured, leaving off his deadly charge?

"So! What say you? I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. Leave off, say you couldn't find us. And in return we can avoid any...unnecessary complications.
You know of which I speak."

Ninjaed! Oh let's just go with it and see what happens!

Parlay! With Monologue!: 2d6 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (6, 3) + 2 + 1 = 12

The young girl continues with her odd ritual. She saturated a large area by now. She must take her dogma very seriously.

I can try to be more specific. I think I wasn't picturing the scene correctly.
So we're far away now and can't communicate with the other group or with the elf and paladin?

Yizid, my understanding is that the group of strangers and the half of our team that teleported first are together, but some distance away from the teleportation receiving plates, which is where we are. We're within shouting (and hearing) distance of the others.