Welcome to The Lost Island Quest. Last thread our hero, Alan Rodain, gathered the remnants of the Circle, led half of them to their deaths and volunteered to hold the line for an impressive feint maneuver. Now, Alan finishes a seemingly impossible task.
http://pastebin.com/W5vqnRBU (Character Sheet)
http://pastebin.com/3LPDLd9u (NPCs)
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=lost+island
You breathe out heavily. Your arms feel like they have hellfire coursing through the veins. Your fists are numb. Sweat pours down your face.
Gabby is bent over, hands on her knees, trying to recover. At some point during the fight she decided to take off her robe, you don't remember when.
The ground is littered with ripped up spell scrolls and wands reduced to useless sticks. Quissonce shakes out one last one, giving it to Ed to break in half and toss once she is unable to milk one last spell out of it.
“Hey Gabby,” you turn your head to her from where you're leaning against the broken battlements of the city.
“Yeah . . .” she takes a few more breaths, looking up at you. “ . . . Al?”
You laugh a bit to yourself. “I lost count.” Rowe comes up and takes the last of your arrows from your quiver.
Gabby chuckles through her body's attempt to force her into passing out. “Eh, me too. I probably won though, so lucky you.”
“I think we killed them all,” Gale remarks. You've certainly killed hundreds. This one choke point is filled completely with the redead, providing anywhere from a two-foot to five-foot walking path of bones and putrid flesh. There's going to be a lot of clean-up required in the coming days.
“Alright, the hobgoblins are pushing forward now. I believe it's time we make our exit,” Quissonce comments, pointing towards the amassed forces that have decided to sit patiently outside your walls while their nightmarish pets sought to weaken you. They do seem to be shifting their formation. But that doesn't seem to be an offensive pattern.
(Who is that?) you hear. You look over to Rowe and see her squinting off in the distance. You follow her vision to the area she's examining and make out the ripple in the formation of soldiers as they get out of the way of what looks to be a group of particularly large and burly skeletons. Like they come from much larger sapients.
Wait. You look down at the dead zombies and skeletons you've dispatched. They look like human corpses. Yet none of the species you've met on this Island have heard of humans. That does not add up. How old are these undead?
“UGH!” Eve's outburst breaks you out of your thoughts. “I thought we'd be done. Who the fuck is that fruitcake?”
You look up. Striding out of the hobgoblins' vanguard is a man wearing very gaudy, black armor with a skull on its front. A horned helmet masks his face and he carries a large sword. He stands at the center of the formation of burly skeletons. He seems to gaze at your group, still as a statue for a long moment.
Then, almost mechanically, he begins to stride towards you, his cadre of skeletons accompanying him. You're pretty sure Ed whimpers.
Gabby stands tall and readies herself. “Alright boys and girls. Looks like it's time to fuck up The Master.”
Quissonce looks at Gabby, puzzled. “Are you sure that's him?”
“Look at how that faggot is dressed. Of course it's him.”
Quissonce shrugs. “Well Eve and I are out of everything.”
“Pull back,” Kyra speaks. “Backup incoming.”
As if on cue Dolah practically rushes into you. She takes a quick scan of you all before talking. “I apologize for being late. There was a very powerful devil in the sewers.” Funny, Dolah doesn't smell like she just came from a sewer. She points at the armored man striding towards you still. “That person is very evil.”
“Thanks pal,” Gabby replies sarcastically. “Really wasn't sure about that one. I was having a moral quandary about the whole situation.”
“Stop bantering.” Rowe states. “Start fighting.” She looses three arrows at The Master, but one of the big skeletons gets in the way and takes the onslaught of her attack, crumpling into a pile of bones. The Master simply walks through his deceased minion, crushing the skull under his booted heel.
You channel your last burst, leaving you bone dry of divine favor.
You eke out enough magical scraps from your blood to strengthen your muscles, leaving you bone dry of spells.
So unless you want to try giving this guy the touch and hoping he learns the importance of friendship or a better aesthetic, you're going to have to fight him the old-fashioned way.
>Draw your saber for this, full SCHWING
>Stick with your fists
AND
>Fight him head on
>Let Dolah do that, sneak attack
>Wrestle him to the floor with Gabby's aid then coup de grace
>Something else? (write-in)
And roll me 2d100, best of 3.
Rolled 22, 68 = 90 (2d100)
>>46077448
>Draw your saber for this, full SCHWING
>Let Dolah do that, sneak attack
Probably what I get for starting an hour earlier than usual. I'm just going to leave this here until around 2 pm.
Check back in around then >>46077527
Alright, so I got dinner sprung on me yesterday so this was going to be a short thread anyway. Its a thursday and a holiday, so people are probably busy. I'm usually ok with running for one voter, but I really dont think enough will get accomplished this thread. So I'm going to delete/ not archive this thread and then run tomorrow or Saturday, depending on things.
>>46078383
Cool
>>46078383
Damnit, I just got here. I'm not going to be able to participate this entire weekend, so don't get us killed like the entire half of the people who were trusting in us to not lead them to their ignoble deaths.
