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It was a fun little game in a semi-Weird West setting, so yeah, always up for more!
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The skein of fate was never easy to read, and only when using his magic was Walter really able to make any sense of the threads. Even then, it wasn't exactly clear. But now, now, there was nothing. It was...disconcerting. Perhaps that was because they'd just changed the future to such a degree that nothing could be written. Snapping out of it, Walter went, "What? The soldiers? Oh, yes. I'll heal them, if they have a need." His curses were usable on a person just once, but once was better than no healing at all.
Djon, wanna do the honours?
Walter staggered, wincing under the assault as the beast shrieked. The fact the things mere screams had caused massive harm to him was not something Walter was overly fond of. The Witch focused on the monster as he wiped the blood from his nose, and attempted to Curse a Godthing.
Watching the Gunslinger positively riddle the monster with fire, Walter decided that if the Spears worked there was no reason to get fancy right now. They needed the thing down so it could be put to sleep.
Walter grit his teeth as the thing shrugged off his magic like water off a waterfowl's wing. He'd suspected his abilities were going to be of limited use here, but there was no time to give up or be frustrated. If he threw enough power at the thing something might penetrate. Eventually. "Let us see you waltz, old chap," Walter muttered, tapping into the nearest layline.
Grunting, Walter felt the power of the Ley-Line buck, warp, lash out into his own mind. Instead of allowing it to harm himself he dumped the damage it would cause into the monster before them.
Unsure exactly how susceptible an eldritch horror that viewed time and space as a cosmic dishrag, Walter cast a spell to test the waters somewhat. He tried to turn the things shadow against itself, using his Blessing to improve his own armour for now.
It can't hurt.
Does anyone have anything they wanna do? If not I'll get our new friend's attention with a lightning bolt to the groin.
Standing, and rubbing his mouth, Walter cast Aid first, as it lasted a longer time, then the Blessings of Fervor when the creature was close enough to attack.
I'm in the UK, so other than our arms sales being just great we're doing fine. I do have a friend in Estonia whose rather nervous about Russia going all expansionist.
Ah, the sweet scent of artillery Walter thought wryly as he attempted to get the hell out the way and keep all his limbs.
"Once it is down, the dagger will prevent it from returning to life - or whatever it does when it is awake and moving - rather than simply returning, again and again."
"I know some of you aren't fond of magic," Walter mentioned, carefully not looking at Tarasik, "But once we see the thing coming I will place some spells on you to aid you. I imagine we will have a moment."
"Your stomach is the lesser concern, I'm afraid. This thing doesn't work how we do. It doesn't correspond to the way we understand the universe. It is walking madness, a thing that twists reality that we see in a form that is nothing like what we see but is simply the best our minds can do to understand it. It is no more 'Witchcraft' than a bullet would be to those people from before we mastered fire. It simply isn't comprehensible, to a point where our minds are a weapon against us." Walter shrugged. "But none of that matters. It must die, or the world does."
Walter sighed, rolling his shoulders as he stood. His mind was awash with the things he had seen, and it took a moment to order his thoughts once more. "There is a battlefield near here, which is where the thing will rise, or we will meet it. One or the other. We can only hurt it, but if we hurt it enough, the knife can be used to put it back into a slumber as deep as death. Otherwise he will never sleep or die or live and the world shall be his meal to devour and take and feast upon and eat and consume, it will be his feast his meal his sup broken fast his-" Walter stopped suddenly, and whiped a tear trickling from his eye. "Let us just say it will be bad. Best he is stopped here."
With no one to fight and nothing but time, Walter used his magic to connect once more to the Akashic memory and find out what they could about this foe, Cthulhu.
"Ugly as sin and smelling twice as bad, one would think," Walter said with a small shrug. "Big? It's supposed to be able to bring about the end of times, and I can't imagine a mouse pulling that off. It feels like something you'd want to be massive to do."
Walter's ready, I think. Main new tricks are the Retribution Hex and Baleful Polymorph. Because if I can I will turn Cthluhu into a bunny.Dude, if you "bunny" Cthulhu, that will be both the coolest thing and the most disappointing finale I've ever run. The thing is, if he isn't immune to polymorph or Fort saves, I absolutely can bunny him. I can cast the spell on myself, then transfer the effect to him with Greater Gift of Consumption. What I can't do is force him to fail the Will save, so he'd still have all his powers and abilities - I'd just stop him from smashing us flat with his face tentacles. Plus, yeah, anticlimax and a half, so it's very much plan B. For bunny.
Walter's ready, I think. Main new tricks are the Retribution Hex and Baleful Polymorph. Because if I can I will turn Cthluhu into a bunny.
"Oh, good. He's quite mad." He glanced over at the assassin, but suspect his mind was probably no less shattered. Just trying to touch this thing was insane. He looked at the others. "I fear, gentleman, that we're going to have to challenge a creature for beyond time and space. If anyone wishes to flee now would be the moment."
Whooo! I vote we get two levels and a railgun.
Walter sighed. "Bugger." Gesturing with the knife, he asked, "And how does one control this creature?"
Walter nods, using Read Magic on the blade in the hopes of deciphering the writing. If that doesn't work he'd have to use his Tongues Hex to read it. And if -that- didn't work then, well, that wasn't a good sign. "So you have awoken something," he said, nodding to the shaman and careful not to say the name of the thing. He wasn't sure if it could hear them, but some things listened for there names. "Alright. But your ritual wasn't finished. What was the rest of it designed to do? Bring it here? Control it?"
Walter used his Healing Hex to awaken the bound shaman once he was sure Gavri was both bound and stable. "Now that you're awake, I fear we need to talk. No, no, I know that you're mouth is gagged. Wouldn't want any chants coming out." Walter said as he squated next to the bound man, "We can do this one of two ways. I wish for you to explain this unstoppable ritual to me, in detail. Since I cannot possibly stop this ritual it will not be a problem, correct? So, we can have a friendly chat, as professionals in the field." He smiled cheerfully. "Nod if you agree, yes?" He hadn't mentioned the second option yet, quite on purpose. Nothing he could say would be as terrible as the ideas in the mans own mind would be. Not unless he seared off his hands, at least.
"Alright, then let us bind them and awake them. I'm afraid we're going to have to force them to give us the answers we need, and I don't especially think we have time for subtle." Walter headed the shaman, using Stabilize after binding the guys hands, feet and gagging him.
"Ah, thank you Tarasik. Don't worry Marko, we'll deal with your friends and have a little chat. Please, considering which of your limbs you feel are the most expendable." Walter shifted his focus to the shaman, throwing another blast out.
Nope, not just you I'm afraid.
Walter moved into view with a smile, staying well back. "Marko, dear boy, we have been looking absolutely everywhere for you." He responded to the gunshot, draining some of his magic to focus a blast at the little weasel.
Clear all your cookies and such, and it should let you log back in.
Walter sighed. "I'll probably need one of them alive for the specifics to destroy the ritual. He does not need all his arms and legs, just to live long enough."
Walter considered. "I would suggest that Tarasik and Djon attack those strange rubbery buggers we fought before, and Billy and I play 'who can kill the chanting idiot fastest' before joining you. The sooner he falls the better the chance we stop the ritual." The witch paused. "Unless the final component is his death, of course. Let me see if I can work out if this is a 'kill' or 'restrain' situation."
"Indeed," Walter agreed as he headed for the opera house. They were usually supremely easy to find, given how big the blasted altars to pomp were. "If the idiot was right, we may see enemies with spellcasting. I'll do what I can, but I suggest making them a target of priority. The less time they have to cast the better it shall be for all of us."
"Why is it always the opera house?" Walter wondered outloud. "But yes, us old folks have our weaknesses. And frankly, I intend to just rend your masters down to smouldering bone and charred tallow long before they bring in a being that will, I must point out, kill everyone and everything. Pray that we succeed, or flee and weep as your family dies. Your choice."
"Marko Gavri," Walter said. "Where is he?" He smiled in a friendly fashion.
Walter nodded, and looked towards the civilians. "May I suggest you all take yourselves and head out of the city that way?" he said, pointing along the path they had come with his cane. "It should be pleasantly free of any guards and such for a while yet." Moving to Tarasik, Walter added, "Then let us find somewhere nice and quiet, out of the way, and have a short chat with these fine gentleman."
Walter randomly selected anyone else who looked important, and forced there gun to unload entirely. It was fun if nothing else.
Generally, yeah. That and to distract people with the idea that others in the unit might not be friendly, and maybe cause a fight.
- Walter glanced at his chosen victim, muttering under his breath for a moment. With a sudden, shocking crack! there gun went off with far more force than it should have done. As the weapon discharged Walter belloed, "Treason! Infiltrator in the ranks!" using his Tongues ability to make sure he was understood. With a little luck that should cause quite the distraction...
Please, so long as they don't mind me rocking up, advertising and then making fun of things.
I actually can't stand the name, and fully intend to change it...unless people like the kooky flavour, in which case it's great and I love it and no my teeth aren't gritted.
Rando has kindly allowed me to post This, a game I have created from scratch. For the next couple of weeks I'm looking for feedback and suggestions for expansions, changes and edits before I actually run a game, and I'd love for you guys to offer both feedback and join the game itself when I start running it. I'm hoping to get enough people for a party, but if by some weird quirk of fate the initial game is designed as a festival where it's quite possible for multiple parties to run through it.
Walter began to move towards the troops, keeping out of sight but not obviously sneaking. If he got close enough he'd start messing with there weapons. If not he'd distract them by talking.
Good point. Both spells are Close, so about 65 feet range.
Walter sighed, and rose to his feet with the clicks and cracks of the elder gentleman. "We're going the right way. For now. Look for ways down, into the catacombs. Mostly, we need to find some nationalists - probably a high ranking one - and get them to tell us where Gavri is."
While Djon scouted, Walter found a quiet spot and sat, focusing on his connection to the the fabric of the universe, casting his spell and trying to find where his prey was.
"Guess no one is looting yet," Walter noted absently. "Now that we are here, I suppose we need to narrow down our search once again. Any suggestions before I invoke arcane forces and snatch a glimpse at what seems to be the ultimate truth of the universe?"
Walter made a noise of disgusted irritation, but he looked to the others to see if the man was telling the truth. It wasn't something he had much of a knack for himself.
Walter nodded, and did so, cleaning the blood from the heavy weapon with a word and touch. "Now, however, we have a problem." He nodded to the down but not dead man. "I can attempt to scramble his memories, although I can't be certain it will work. Or we can finish him now. Or we can leave him with a message." Somehow, he suspected that his allies would be less than willing to murder a man who couldn't fight back, even if these troops had been pathetically child-like in there resistance.
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