BD, my games move so slowly that you can probably take some time off and not miss much. I hope that this adventure will wrap up soon, and we will move to the time jump to the present.
We will hold a place for you. Take your time.
Hmmmm. I will be taking advantage of this.
When I left the job of 14 hour days, I had candied dreams dancing in my head of mere 10 hour days, that would leave much time for frivolity. Alas, though I do have shorter and lighter days, the standard of 13 hour days does not leave as much time for posting as I had imagined.
(Also, the new Wasteland is coming out. Number three by the current counting, and I promised myself I'd finish 2 before I got it. If you're not familiar, it's what Fallout would still be if it had stuck with its turn-based roots.)
Anyway, yes, for the now the Hundred-Handed one will probably be going on a bender, as is his habit.
"Ah geez," Braireus curses as Una straight up disappears.
"Well, at least she was good enough to bring friends if she had t' step out. I hate it when da chick jus' disappears."
As the dragon flies by several hands shoot out, grasping in eternal greed.
Multiattack Attack! DC 13:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27 more than three degrees of success on multiattack. Damage is +5.
Um, that's also a crit. {+5 damage?}
DC 30 Toughness check!:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17 Go go Victory-Hero point! DC 30 Toughness check!:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26 one degree....
The Misogynist Titan suddenly finds himself running for cover under the proverbial skirts of the powerful mage-ess.
The heat of the explosions find him, however, and threaten to overwhelm even his titanic endurance. Only by pushing through the panic and bedlam, he wraps himself in his amazing arms, and most of the heat fails to find him.
Finding himself still alive and kicking after the armageddon passes, he wanders outside of the shield and looks up.
"Oy! Ya yous! You know what you get if you take away all the magic parlor tricks? Ya, you, now, YOU, you get a scared little girl-Una that wants t' run away and cry.
But I, on the other hand.
Am still a TITAN!"
His arms shoot up and easily make up the distance to the flying evil-doer.
1) Multiattack: If successful, increase the attack’s
resistance check DC by +2 for two degrees of success, and
+5 for three or more. This circumstance bonus does not
count against power level limits.
2) Then Strength or Dodge Resistance check DC 18 to resist auto Grab.
3) If she fails, then Fort save DC 18 or take first level of Grab-based Affliction: 1) Impaired; -2 on checks
You appropriately referred to yourself with a legitimate title of DOCTOR and -didn't- toss up a link to a video that included Dr. Who? I don't think there's anyway this doesn't break the internet, so I'll tend to this oversight with all speed. XD
Like the wakening of a thing best left dreaming, the Dunwich Horror ominously turns in place as he hovers in the air. All his arms extend like some kind of spider space-station, and a shadow overlaps the crimson enemy. Eight prehensile arms give him their undivided attention as they hide him from sight.
Attack!:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
Multiattack, autograb...lotsa stuff happens if that hits. =-)
Briareus takes stock of himself and turns around once, slowly, in space.
On the whole, everyone looks like they're doin' okay.
'Cept Hypo-baby. He just got da bejeezus scared outa him by that monster.
Time t' come up with an infusion of bejeezus.
Hoping to distract the beast, he sends all of his arms down, jabbing and feinting in lightning-quick succession.
As I have the Multi-Attack feat, one of the options is Covering Fire. I don't see where it says if its partial, total, or complete. But hopefully this'll make up for the Hypnotist's lost defenses. =)
For a moment, just a moment, the Greek Titan surrenders himself to the deep red tide, his limbs lost and formless and drifting.
And then the moment is done, and, awash and amiss, he start speaking.
"I ain't no Olympian. I dont some bad things, and I ain't no hero. Homer didn't mess with me none, an' ain't non gonna dis him fo' dat."
Still drifing in the well-aged and hearty bouqueted tide, he lifts his head.
"Yeah, I might like the drink. Who doesn't? Sure, I enjoy the wine. You come up with the literal diety of grapes and drink, you're gonna tip some cups. Maybe I do heft a few more than the next guy."
Looking about himself, he looks up.
"But I never let it run my life."
He draws his coat about himself.
He activates the Flight power on his Coat of Poseidon, and lifts off the tide.
Are...are some of us actually supposed to be fighting the dream-monster?
This seems to have taken on a life more akin to a Savage Worlds "Interlude" where everyone tells stories about themselves (and are then rewarded with the equivalent of "Hero Points" for a good tale).
But with a tactical map I'm starting to think a few of us, at least, are supposed to be charging into something. =/
A daughter of Poseidon, she is more closely related to divinity than even the 50 Nereid. Those that are comely enough that a mere glimpse can bring a lonely sailor to ruin or death are not lovely enough to even bear her looking-glass.
She strides slowly, carefully, purposefully toward the ravening man-beast. Her porcelain-soft hands gently peal the immaculate dress of doe-brown velvet away and let it drop as his wife stalks inexorably toward the raging monster.
"Cymopolea..." he pleads, in breathless wonder and confusion as the scene unfolds in dreamlike water-air.
He lifts a hand. To stop her, to carry her to safety, to smash the man beast. To tear it half and save the day and play the hero.
Instead his hand lifts a winecup above his head and tips it over.
An endless deluge of wine blitzes out of the cup. From the mouth comes a tidal wave of red drink with subtle hints of blackberry brandy. The flood of liquid forms a raging river and bears Briareus up and carries him away, onward and onward away from the scene as he flails, limp and powerless against the boldy-flavored tide.
Seeing the Large Vanguard's sudden success against the enemy ranks, Briareus vows to not be outdone and reverts back to the attack sequence that he was using before in the village.
Three hands snake out at minions, each with violence on their mind.
'Right behind ya, boyo," The Dunwich Horror says, a bit impatiently, ready to follow the Large Vanguard (a nickname for Eoten he came up with just now) into the mirror.
"And don't sweat all the things, Tiger-baby. Chicky baby's an' all her sycophants gotta breath to, amirtie? Don't give the enemy more credit 'n is due.
Unless yer a satyr named Marsyas. In which case, just go back to bed."
Briareus reaches up and picks what he thinks is the last of the salted fish from Eaoten's hair and pops it into his mouth. It was a good idea just covering the guy with fish and hoping for the best. Might have to remember that.
"The Aye Tummy whatsis? And ya this the de main...castle, boyo," he replies to the odd words being tossed around.
"Aye, I got a great idea. If the mirror's a portal, howsabout The Big Guy just goes through and starts beating on things? Then the rest of us go and clean upwhatever's left?"
Greek Titans were not known for their patience, and having sliced through the outer defenses, he felt anxious to get this over with and be home in time for corn flakes.
"Oy! Eoten-baby! Go through dat dere mirror. I be right behind yous!"
As the train nears the castle, the Dunwich Horror takes out his phone and starts a very particular application.
Around the time when William the Conqueror first touched England, Hephaestus, deity of all those that make things, created this device. Though it's ilk would not be seen in the hands of mortals for another thousand years, it has as much in common with a mortal's cell phones as the sun has to a candle.
Made with a smooth blending of magic and something not quite technology, the hand-held device transcends the phrase "internet of things".
It is a road. But not a road between two points. A road between all points.
"So the H-man sez t' me, he sez this thing will wirelessly find and connect to any piece of technology, creating a personal LAN--whatever that means. He sez I could interface with an editor's computer from the Washington Times as easily as I could a Russian Soyez capsule.
Time t' see if he knows his business."
Technology!:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30
Hephaestus was a cripple, and his wife, Aphrodite, carried on an epic century-spanning affair with his rival Ares.
Wow! 1000 bonus points unto GM Supertumbler for the obscure mythology grab! Also, everyone, yeah, it's half bull, half snake, officially putting a voracious giant in the 'tame' category.
"Aye! Ophiotaurus, buddy, how'u'doin'! Ay can I get a round for my buddy here?
Ain't seen you since Zeus was a virgin! Nah, nah, don't get yer pannies up, I ain't goin' grab yer insides and burn them to try and take down the big guys. Ah geez, even if I could ya think I'd wanna do that? Work work work all day long. Nah, that ain't me. I got my slice o' paradise. I'm good.
So ye sez we can get on that, huh? Nice. Nice. Ya, I can get us by. A little waiter action, a little 'special sauce', you know how it is. Badda-bing badda-boom.
A'ight, well I got a flight t' catch. Good seeing you. You're ever by the old neighborhood we should...nah, you'll never be there. Wouldn't be safe. Well you take care."
Within a surprisingly short number of minutes, Briareus comes back to the group.
"So my buddy says that there's a big shipment coming in of of this special seafood, they call it 'breen'--some kind of salted sentient jellyfish, Idunno. So it figures that we can hitch a ride, and tell 'em we're special 'kitchen staff' that gotta prepare it just right or it's deadly. Or explodes. Whatever. Should get us in the doors, we talk it up good.
"Yea, I think sumpin lo-tek on this one might do that trick.
Aye, ah, yous gimme a minute. I might could work on a plan. If we're not going invisible, we need a way in to the castle that don't use magic.
Ah, gimmesec."
With that The hundred Handed One wades into the crowd, a big smile firmly affixed to his face and his self-confidence at full power, double front.
With his phone out he starts working the crowd, trying to get the answer to some simple questions.
Can I make an Investigation roll to find out about food and other supply-related activities going to the castle? My plan is that we just hide in a truck bringing them their monthly supply of falafels or whatever, but if you're going to rule that I speak no languages that might not go far. ^_^ Also, can I continue to apply the Contacts benefit? With the literal entire pantheon of Mythology as his drinking buddies I would conjecture that a few aliens might not call outside the purview, but I don't know if that's something you'll allow.
"Well, since you went through so much trouble, it'd be rude t' say no," Briareus says gregariously as he tucks in to goat and ale.
"Tha's a fine plan, toots," he says at Seven. "Get 'em napping, catch 'em napping. Good job.
An' I wouldn't worry about 'Tiger. Achilles was the same way. Always going off for havok and glory. Couldn't keep him in the phalanx unless ya nailed down his feet, and you couldn't even do that!
Leave 'em be. He'll figure it out, I wager."
He takes another generous bite of goat and swig of ale.
The Dunwich Horrors favors her with a lop-sided grin. "Oh sure ya. Dropped 'em just as we got out-a-th' gate. One tic."
Four arms elongate out to retrieve four grease-soaked bags that smell heavily of spiced mutton and yogurt sauce.
Not knowing how hungry Gracie is, he just drops them all at her feet. "Bon appetite," he says, getting the French wrong because he never did much get along with the French.
The Hundred Handed One shrugs and concedes the point of waiting for all comers. Not the first time he's been wrong. Not the last.
As his buddy asks about the Trojan war, he was about to retort when SUDDENLY he starts hearing -himself- give a talk about that he gave not too long ago. He stares agape until the Deadman finishes, then breaks out into a big smile and guffaws.
"Ha! Did I really say dat? Did I really say dat about her kickin' back in the buff? Ho' man, dat is some funny stuff right there I don't care who you are!"
I seriously did go back and look at my post to see if I said that. =)
After he spends a moment laughing, he taps his chin some more.
"But, ah, yeah, the Knight broad has a point. If we could just imitate messengers and be all 'oh yeah, we're gonna bring all these here goodliest weapons into the castle right quick because of how very ligit messengers we are. Totally.' then ya, I think that would work.
And seeing as how we don't really have an organic way in to the castle except by our wits, that might be a better plan.
Let's keep running this by the villagers an' see what they think."
"Pardon me, good friend blacksmith, but who, exactly, will wipe out this town?"
He points to all the heroes, asking for their attention.
"Now just hear me out now.
Right now our plan is to rush in to Una's citadel, right?
Now, attacking someone in there own turf is usually not a good idea. Just ask all them Persians at Thermopylae
But what if we make 'em come here?
Like, what if we don't do nuthin' about their quota? Then someone comes here. And we kick their aise.
Eventually the Big Bad is gonna get mad and show up. But isn't fighting her here, on neutral ground, better than trying to get her in her own place of power?"
No one had told Briareus what to do with the limp form of the villain, so he held on to her, certain something would come up.
He sidles next to the Deadman and asks, "What does 'abrecan' mean? Does it mean 'eat'?"
As the battle seems won for now, he takes pause to concentrate on the magic in his Ring of Aphrodite. In moments he relaxes and the harms and coarseness of the battle leave both his mind and body.
The Hundred-Handed One blinks a few more times, getting his bearings, and sees the world has at last settled into a pleasantly NOT-weaving state.
He takes a look around, making sure he knows what he knows.
It looks like the big bowl of pudding is somehow stuck inside a big blue ball. Alright, good work there.
The big ye olde giante has a hold of the ye olde giante rocke, and him and the other human are beating nine bells out of him. But he's not out yet.
And the Big Bad chicky is holding off everything that MagicMan can hurl at her, though Jugs is keeping her shield down.
Well it doesn't take a genius to figure this out.
Eoten and Tiger have Rocky under control. No need to help there.
But since he seems to be one of the few people who can reach out and touch the bad-magic lady, a hand shoots up, up, and away at her, just barely making it inside his reach.
And then it starts with the punching.
Attack Kadavrus!:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22
Toughness save! DC 23!:1d20 + 0 ⇒ (17) + 0 = 17
The punch lands solidly, so it continues with the grabbing,
Kadavrus Dex save! DC 18!:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10
One ancient hand gets good hold, so it finishes with the squeezing.
Kadavrus Fort save! DC 18!:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10 Failed save. Affliction 1st step: Impaired, all dice at -2.
The lone hand has a grip like iron, and the elastic arm begins wrapping up the villain like some ancient serpent, cutting off her life-giving blood flow.
Briareus' head is still spinning, making everything lead him a merry dance. The solid street before him ebbs and swirls like the crashing, swirling whitewater that Charybdis calls home.
Not wanting to be totally sidelined, his hands wander up, up, up and out, trying to smack the taste out of Kada'vrus' mouth.
Attack!:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12
but alas, even so mean a feat as that is beyond his ken, and he holds his head in his two hands.
Fort save! DC18!:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18
Suddenly his eyes blink and his stomach stops heaving and the world finally settles into a more natural state.
The hundred-handed one suddenly feels crowded under attack from so many foes.
Battered and dazed, he stumbles to his side, ending only when he feels a building against him.
Fort save vs. Affliction!:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16
Alas he continues to be dazed, and his vision swims.
"A'ight, no more moussaka before battle. Or, at least, not as much."
So, I'm looking through the rulebook, knowing that this game is based on PFS, but it has a rather brief combat section, and I can't see any mention of Attacks of Opportunity. Since I'm Dazed and only get one action, can I just...move away?
I regret nothing!:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 Ouch. That sucks a little harder than id like. Luck point to suck less. I regret mostly nothing!:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23
He that is the Horror of Dunwich deduces the situation. Somehow the Main Witch had done some mojo on that deader dude, and he was coming t' party. But not in the good way. He'd need to be stopped.
Just then their benefactor, the spell-chicky with the great jubblies, tosses down a double-whammy that doesn't go through some kind of force field. Looks like MODRUSSUS is having his nap about now.
Well, but if a bolt can't go through, he wondered if it would be the same for something more direct?
"Oy! Oy you right kaname bourdelo," he yells at Kadavrus. "I see how ya don't take things from her. Now take one from me!"
All seven of his arms shoot out from where he stands and charge unerringly at the arch-foe.
1) Multiattack: If successful, increase the attack’s
resistance check DC by +2 for two degrees of success, and
+5 for three or more. This circumstance bonus does not
count against power level limits.
2) Then Strength or Dodge Resistance check DC 18 to resist auto Grab.
3) If she fails, then Fort save DC 18 or take first level of Grab-based Affliction: 1) Impaired; -2 on checks
1) Do all of us know that Deadman is now Mind Controlled? I guess the proper wording would be as to 'trappings' the Mind Control has. Perhaps an ephemeral beam of energy going from the sorceress' mind to him?
2) Can I make multiple attacks against the same target due to Multiattack?
I re-read the enhancer, and it seems that I can't, in that the description seems more akin to a shotgun's effect--i.e. everything in a zone is attacked equally.
This sits not well with me. For whatever the implications of spraying a machinegun at a group, I'm having a hard time squaring that I can grab at 4 targets with a hand each, but not at 2 targets with two hands each for the same penalty. =/
Good job skipping me. In the grim darkness of the near future, there is only 12-hour days.
Briareus hadn't known that anyone could use the portal, but when he saw everyone going through it, he tried to quickly change directions, almost tripping over in the process and looking quite un-titan like in the process. Good thing there wasn't anyone around to notice.
Looking around, he sees the odd dead-man saving villagers, and determines that's a fine enough thing to start out doing.
His hands shoot out to try and clean up some of the skeletons he missed.
Same thing as Deadman, but I'm doing a Multiattack. Targeting the three skeletons closest to the circle, Routine Check -3 = 15 for all of them. DC 23. | If they make the toughness save, then Strength Resistance check DC 18 to resist auto Grab. If they fail, then Fort save DC 18 or take last level of Grab-based Affliction: Asleep. ... If they are immune to sleep, then stunned.
"Now seeing as how we literally have no idea what's goin' on here, howabout we go save those people, and in the process capture them prymni copanos down there?
Unless someone else wants to, and t' show that I don't just blow smoke, I'll take the big copanos in red there."
Æthelweard mulls the news that other trolls, ogres and giants will be present in Una's dark realm;
"I take no responsibility for the oaf's actions should you come across others of his ilk. He will probably fight, but is as likely to eat or mate with them... A base brute he most assuredly is."
At the mention of Star Wars, the scholar seems not to register;
"Perhaps a Trojan Horse approach is required? Master Briareus don't you agree? Old myth over new media eh?"
Briareus erupts into laughter as the mental image is painted of the brute putting one priority over another. "HAHAHA! 'Oy, let's go beat'em'up. Oh wait, I gotta nail dis one first.' HAHAHA! Oh man I -gotta- see dat!
Ya, seeing as how I saw how Zeus conducted himself, and, oh man, that guy would nail anything with two legs. No, I take that back. The number of legs didn't matter. But yeah that guy reminds me of my bros, so I'll try t' keep him in check.
Mind, I ain't promising nothing. Especially about holding him back from something I find funny. But, ah, I'll give it a shot."
He snorts a few times, ensuring everything is packed and ready to go.
"A Trojan Horse? Yeah, Idunno. That things was...very specific to the time. Ya gotta remember Troy was just so frickin' happy that Achilles was gone, they'd've eaten that thing if it meant never seeing that guy again.
But this Una broad, she seems more like t' put the whole thing to the torch rather than take it in to her sweet inner sanctum. So I think we should just get there, get invisible, and see how it goes.
I mean, I'd -like- to sneak in, especially if she does sleep in the nude, because hey, when is that not good? But, ah, these evil overlord types tend to do away with things like sleep, so that's not really a given.
I mean, this one time I tried to sneak up and pull down the pants of Janus.
Did not go well, my friend.
We ready to go?"
Half of his hands pick up a large to-go bag and makes ready.
Ay oh, oh ay, no worries dear," Briareus pipes up, drinking a green bottle of some exotic malted beverage. "You wanna go right now? I say we go right now. Sooner we start sooner it's over amirite?
I'll get travel bags."
While he calmly sips his bottle, his other arms begin efficiently re-packing the considerable leftovers into large paper bags for easy traveling.
Briareus salutes The Hypnotist with a fist full of moussaka. "Any time! If I can't splurge for me chumms, who can I splurge for?"
He turns to Sinclair. "Miláte epísis elliniká?"
Greek:
"Do you speak Greek as well?"
"Ay, sorry, I don't meet many people who got a leg up on the old country. But yeah, my bros are still there. We all of us had a good gig just keeping watch over things. I mean, there's not a one of 'em we couldn't handle if things got outa hand.
Well, I guess there was that one guy...but, eh, you know he got a Special so don't worry about him.
Anyways we're chillin' down there until future wife came down and said Zeus was takin' smack about us, and, oh yeah, there's some stuff going on that she needed help with.
T' make a long story short, badda-bing badda-boom, I get married and I've spent the last couple millennia telling everyone the hundred-handed ones were the -good- guys in all that."
Professor Æthelweard Langfellow wrote:
My alter ego is no different and will gorge on anything to fuel himself. You are in do danger... but Mistress Seven's threatened ire will only deter him for so long... Thought it prudent to mention..."[/b]
"Really? A'ight, I'll bring some doggy bags.
Also, ah, where we goin'? When we goin? I'm sorry but did we have a plan that I ain't grabbed?
The food brought down by the simulacra receptionist represents the best shawarma and Greek food in the tri-state area. The lamb meat is hot and lean and well-spiced, the dolmades, stuffed grape leaves, carry anything from rice to pork to mushrooms, the courgette balls are made with a heady mix of zuccinni and feta, and the moussaka is light enough to be cut with a spoon.
"So, yeah, introductions. I been waitin' for this. You heard of Zeus? Ares? Aphrodite? I was there when they was born. They had a real jerk of a dad and they had a war called the Titanomachy. I was Zeus' muscle.
They called my Briareus, my bros, there's more of me, call us Hecatoncheires. Dunwich Horror is, ah, kinda my Super Hero name, y'know? Makes people take me seriously, like.
So, uh, I kinda do hands-y stuff. Like dis."
All his hands shoot out and deliver a small, deliciously smelling bag to each of you. Inside is a flaky and sweet baklava.
"Heh. I love doing dat. And yeah, professor, I seen, like, everything, so I'd love to talk to ya about it.
Anyway, where is dis Una chick an' what are we doing about her? I'm not really an ideas man."
His phone rings.
"Oh, uh, 'scuse for a sec. I gotta take dis.
Oh, hi honey."
He turns away.
He speaks softly, but one gets the impression its the kind of conversation that includes phrases like 'I know I said never again but,'.
