In an act not altogether dissimilar to a hanged man dropping from the gallows, you step off of the table. The filaments of silver wound round the cracked path go taught, and you feel a fundamental -shift-. The feeling is somewhere between a sharp kick in the testicles and a tearing hook behind your navel. You resist the urge to double over in pain as you are swept away on the current of the pathway. The workshop around you runs like dye spilled across a dusty field, dissolving into rivulets of color that quickly spiral out of sight.
What replaces them is—
–-
You land hard on your shoulder, slamming into warm stone. Bouncing along unseen ground, you come perilously close to tipping over some unseen cliff and starting your fall anew. You shiver, arms wrapped trembling around yourself, a thin coat of rime lining the edges of Nocturne's Embrace. There are shallow gouges in the surface of Vestus Sonitus, long parallel claw marks that mar the otherwise perfect crystal plate. Though you fight for the memories of your transition, you are disturbed to find that you cannot recall them. Only murky flashes of an utterly black field dotted by points of stark light remain.
You release your deathgrip on the cracked, sparking pathway in your hand. Here, it is much more physical. Not a pathway, you realize, but an -anchor-. There are a dozen of them strewn across the parapets around you, piercing the sun-warmed stone in uneven intervals and fading into sight above you.
You slowly climb to your feet, muscles screaming in protest as you do. You feel scorched, inside and out. The platform you've landed on lowers slowly to sit flush with the surface of the tower around, clicking into place with a resounding latch. A hum of energy renewed glows between the bricks underfoot, tracing a path further into the citadel on your right.
You stand overlooking a village that could easily be mistaken for Grisoch. A stone tower ringed by lanterns supports you, hovering in the air above and indeed occupying the same ground as the buildings below. The double-vision is painful to observe with your second sight, and you slam shut your third eye with a painful mental wrench. The stony edifice seems to very nearly exist in overlapping the village below you.
The motes of light floating on the air leave no doubt. You've crossed the veil. But whose sanctum is this?
You take a step forward. A soft sibilant sussuration beneath the heel of Cloudwalker Stride catches your attention. A scrap of paper, torn and burnt at the edges with Ayren's unmistakable handwriting.
A trail.
A stone-paved walkway leads away from the vast landing platform you've come to rest atop. The tower to your right bears a vast set of double doors. You spy another scrap of paper wedged into the closed doorway, fluttering gently in the evening (?) breeze.
> Head for the doors. Quinn and Terra must be around here somewhere.
> Look out over the edge. Is this village below you Grisoch?
> Take a moment to get your bearings and commune with your spirits.
> Write-in
You are Osyki, journeyman Totemist and first line of defense for your village against the rabid Behemoths wandering the land. Your master, the previous Totemist, fell in a battle against a terrible Behemoth, leaving the duty of defending your settlement to you. You have returned home to Grisoch after a lengthy trip abroad. Some experimentation by your apprentices has weakened the veil between your Workshop and whatever lies beyond. They have been taken from you. You intend to reclaim them.
[[Previous Threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=totem
Plot Summary: http://pastebin.com/dqBSNUTM
The Cast Thus Far / Binder's Log: http://pastebin.com/VsJpEUx3
Ask: ask.fm/DiarcaEXE
Wiki in progess: http://totemistquest.pbworks.com
Quest Twitter: @TotemistQuest]]
>>43623263
> Head for the doors. Quinn and Terra must be around here somewhere.
Not positive, but shouldn't we be training them in entering this kind of realm also, granted, we might want to do it under safer conditions.
>>43623263
> Take a moment to get your bearings and commune with your spirits.
>>43623263
> Head for the doors. Quinn and Terra must be around here somewhere.
We're looking to rectify whatever mistake our apprentices made with Aryen's work, so anything that's definitely his should lead us toward our goal.
>>43623263
> Take a moment to get your bearings and commune with your spirits.
> Head for the doors. Quinn and Terra must be around here somewhere.
>>43623263
>Head for the doors. Quinn and Terra must be around here somewhere.
You do your best to brush the clinging frost from your cloak as you make your way toward the vast double-doors. It does little to warm the chill that clings to your bones, but it makes you feel better as you distance yourself from the touch of that memory-defying transitional place.
The doors loom overhead as you approach. Arcane sigils line the frame, carved in stone with precise detail. You pick out a few of the more common phrases of the Celestial Language as you scan the towering frame, but any translation of depth or substance would require time that you may not have.
The doors themselves are wrought from some metal that shines like polished silver. You press against them tentatively and find it absolutely unyielding to your touch. The metal is surprisingly warm, even through your thick gloves. Not scorching. A kind of heat that one's hand leaves behind on a sword's hilt after a long fight.
A strange analogy for your mind to conjure. Until recently you've never much been one for blades.
You leap upward and snatch the fluttering fragment of paper from where it is wedged between the doors. Another scorched fragment of paper. This one is devoid of Ayren's handwriting, but comes with something extra: A strand crimson hair. Terra's, clearly. You must be on the right track.
Relieving. You don't see any other tracks around here to follow.
You imagine there is a proper way to open the gates before you, but you find yourself questioning if it wouldn't be better to simply leverage your bindings and force your way through.
> Current Loadout
Armor: Vestus Sonitus
Boots: Cloudwalker Stride
Bow: Song of the Deep
Cloak: Nocturne's Embrace
Gloves: Bolide Bracers
Mask: Infinity Incisor
Pants: Bulwark Aurum
Sword: Moth's First Resort
> Take a moment to scan the runes. Perhaps you can do this quietly.
> No time to waste. Song of the Deep will carve a path.
> Swap a binding. You have a better tool for this. (Which?)
> Consult with one of your spirits.
> Write-in
>>43623633
>> Consult with one of your spirits.
I have a feeling FIRIN OUR LAZOR would cause massive ramifications to the surrounding area, which wouldn't be a problem except its our own village, so lets not do that.
>>43623633
> Take a moment to scan the runes. Perhaps you can do this quietly.
> Consult with one of your spirits.
>>43623633
> Consult with one of your spirits.
Amal
>>43623633
> Consult with one of your spirits.
We have a key we can use for bindings, right? I don't know if any of our spirits will combine into a directly useful binding, but maybe Amal/Tyrd/Boand might have a thought?
>>43623633
>> Take a moment to scan the runes. Perhaps you can do this quietly.
> Consult with one of your spirits.
Amal or Boand if we can reach her
>>43623633
>> Consult with one of your spirits.
I miss Amal, let's have a chat. Break out Tryd, too.
>>43623705
I don't think now's the time to experiment with binds, and the only confirmed keybind timelocks things.
Rolled 62 (1d100)
>>43623633
> No time to waste. Song of the Deep will carve a path.
WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG!?
You take a few steps back, scanning the monolithic gateway before you. This may be above your pay grade. Song of the Deep could theoretically pierce this doorway, but who knows what havoc that would cause within? If your apprentices are in there--
If something HAS them--
You don't want to make a commotion.
You fish the amber charm from your neck, and the charcoal rune from your sleeve. They spark and sizzle fitfully as you call for your familiar spirits.
A long, empty moment passes. You feel the pit of your stomach grow cold.
They were both in the workshop with Quinn and Terra. Could something have... taken them? You didn't even think to worry. They've never been more than a thought away when you need them most. At least you can take momentary comfort in the fact that they're definitely still -alive-. Their charms would have crumbled if they have been destroyed.
Still, the feeling of standing alone in this strange place is magnified by their absence.
You pull the Whirlpool Pearl from your shirt instead. There is a moment's delay there, too, an iota of silence that flips your stomach. A spark of blue dances in the back of your mind, though, and you can feel Boand's presence manifest weakly.
-yki?- Her voice comes through broken and muffled. -re—can't hear—ng on.-
You feel a pulse from the pearl. It draws on the spiritual pathways in your hand, leeching power from you. Boand shimmers into being in your mind's eye.
-There you are,- she mutters. She's still aglow with azure light even as a spectral manifestation. -What's going on? Where are you?-
“In over my head, as usual,” you mutter. “Take a look at this gateway. You're better versed in this than I am.”
(cont.)
>>43624265
She turns, gazing through your eyes at the enormous edifice. You can see her lips moving silently as she pores over the runes ringing the doorway.
-By the forest- she mutters. -This is what was behind the workshop?-
“At a start. Any ideas?”
-Definitely Ayren's handiwork,- she tells you. -Precise, impatient, and heavyhanded to a fault. It's a Guardian Seal. A very old contract made with the Land Guardian of this region.-
“Sylvia?”
She shakes her head. -You're not in the Brush, Osyki. The land guardian of the plains Grisoch is built upon.-
You weren't aware there was such a spirit. “Okay. I don't have time to bargain with an earth spirit for entry.”
-No need. This gate is sealed to all but those sworn to the Totemist's Pact.-
You frown. That doesn't make sense. “Then why wouldn't it open for me?”
-It needs a sacrifice. Blood or power.-
Of course.
> Cut your palm. Blood is cheap.
> You need to keep your vitality. Feed it some spiritual essence.
> You are a Totemist, and the only proper one in the land now. Demand entrance.
> Write-in
>>43624292
>> Cut your palm. Blood is cheap.
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!
>>43624292
> Cut your palm. Blood is cheap.
And sacrificing our spiritual power in a spiritual realm seems like a worse trade.
>>43624292
> Cut your palm. Blood is cheap.
>>43624292
>> You need to keep your vitality. Feed it some spiritual essence.
>>43624292
> Cut your palm. Blood is cheap.
This...feels like a trap
>>43624292
Power huh? What if that means a demonstration of our might? Only problem is we've been using Cordia too much to bring her out again.
>>43624482
If we need a power demonstration, Fourth or the Siren Are plenty flashy.
>>43624292
> Cut your palm. Blood is cheap.
Blood is still power, but in a spiritual realm, I think our capability is capped by spiritual vitality.
And, Grisoch's Land Guardian isn't Sylvia? Well, that makes sense: Sylvia doesn't seem to have the village in her domain; I doubt Ayren would like to piss off the guardian of his home village, as he did Sylvia apparently.
>>43624572
Its not like the village is built in the middle of the forest either.
Strange, how long as Ayren been the village's totemist? I remember he took over the previous totemist.
I wonder if this Land Guardian will take offense to our shortlived plans to put Cordia up as a fixture of the village.
“A sacrifice, huh?”
You strip your gloves, unwinding the weighty strips of clotch from your knuckles. The Bolide Bracers hang in overweight ribbons from your arms as you draw your ritual knife from its perpetual home at your belt.
–-
“To be a Totemist is to sacrifice.”
Ayren stood above you then. His face could have been carved from granite. You held the pad steady as he dipped the needles into his flesh, pulling the thick sewing cord tight over the wound in his side. The chair beneath him was stained crimson.
“You must be prepared to lay down your life at a moment's notice. Your duty is to your village and its people.”
You winced as his hand slipped, needle jabbing too deep into his flesh. A fresh bead of crimson welled to join its fellows on the floor below.
“Blood is cheap, Osyki,” he told you as if sensing your unease, his gaze steady on his work. “Your body will always make more. Shed it when necessary. Yours and others alike.”
–-
You watch as a line of blood rises from the shallow mark in your palm. The edges of it waver for a moment before running over, spilling a thin trickle of vitality onto the stones below. You clench your fist to bring a fresh tide above the surface of your skin, then place your palm against the flesh-warm metal of the doorway before you.
“I am Totemist,” you proclaim as you smear a trail of crimson before you. “Bound by pact, in flesh and spirit.”
The door rumbles in response. The blood splatter dances with motes of spiritual power as lines of light dance from the edges of the door down to it. The light traces a perfect outline of the sloppy smear. Testing.
>>43625037
After a moment the doors groan thunderously. A century's dust cascades down from above as the massive portal slowly, painstakingly swings inward. You wait a moment for both the doors and the dust to clear a pathway for you. Then you stride inward, re-wrapping the Bolide Bracers over a fresh line of blood.
The hallway within is massive, but it is clearly only an entryway. Devoid of decoration save for pillars and a massive clockwork sigil on the far wall, the effect intended is clear: This is a place of importance you seek to enter. Quadrupedal statues flank the stairwell. Carved from the same stone as the floor, they slump as if puppets with their strings severed.
Across the grand entryway the door is ajar. You move to ascend the carpeted steps with all speed, your eyes fixed on your goal.
Perhaps a mite too focused.
> 1d100
Rolled 65 (1d100)
>>43625054
Rolled 9 (1d100)
>>43625054
>>43625037
>Shed it when necessary. Yours and others alike.
While he definitely wasn't evil, I don't think. Ayren wasn't exactly... 'good' was he?
Rolled 92 (1d100)
>>43625054
>>43625158
He was a dickbag who helped people.
>>43625158
Yeah, that's what everything we've seen of him indicates. Ayren seems to have been the sort of man who had more loyalty to causes and ideals than he did actual people. He'd do the right thing for the world, but he had a tendency to screw over his allies in the process.
>>43625174
nice
Rolled 2 (1d100)
>>43625054
We need 5 rolls, right? So, let's hope this isn't a 1.
Someone roll the last couple. I'm too scared to do it.
>>43625480
>2
Hahaha.
Someone roll the last roll?
Rolled 68 (1d100)
>>43625054
It's 1 out of best 5 yes?
Rolled 62 (1d100)
>>43625054
One last roll, just to keep things moving.
Rolled 1 (1d100)
>>43625054
One more roll I guess.
I keep forgetting we need five.
>>43625505
Its the first three unless someone rolls a crit fail in the first 5
>>43625559
Damn lucky.
>>43625559
Good thing it was after the required 5s
So, I'm wondering why we've never encountered the plains' land guardian before. A lot has happened that you'd think would have made it show up. Like the Magus, for example. I had assumed that it was just that the plains weren't a large enough territory to spawn a land guardian, since Sylvia seems to count the wild grasslands west of the village as her domain. But what if it used to be this spirit's, and she took over from it at some point? Maybe it's just gone missing. I think it might be trapped in this mirror dimension.
>>43625713
Yeah I really wouldn't put it past our master to have bound it here to his will.
>>43625713
>>43625861
Wouldn't mind another meeting with Ayren's spirit, where Osyki would say that he still miss him but damn it how many spirits did he bound against their wills. And Ayren would just respond with "a lot, and it wasn't easy"
A high-pitched whine at the edges of your senses tips you off that something is not quite right. You turn on your heel, shifting your weight away from the first carpeted step just in time to avoid the wickedly barbed spear that slams into the stone where it had just rested. You leap away on instinct, trailing a line of lightning in your wake.
The statue guardians flanking the stairwell appear to be only statuesque. Great cracks rumble through their length, emanating from the hand clad in crimson metal that has broken free to jam a lance at you.
The statues shudder in grotesque stop-motion, chips and chunks of stone falling from their joints as they slowly twitch to life. A cold malevolence burns in their eyes as the rock encasing their heads falls away. Corded muscles of animate stone tense and flex. Hooves rimmed in golden metal break free from the plinth they were once bound to, stamping the ground furiously. One guardian brandishes its poleaxe at you, while the other holds an orb of pale blue fire in its grasp.
You bring your spear up to bear in kind, watching carefully. The thin light of this place glances off of the metal these strange beasts are clad in. Each stands fully twice the height of a man. Long manes billow out into an absent breeze behind them.
-Guardian Spirits- Boand murmurs in the back of your head. -Eidolons.-
“I thought I was to be allowed entrance,” you mutter, stepping back to widen the gap between you as the lance-wielding centaur stamps its six hooves as if readying to charge you.
-I... may have skimmed the agreement a little,- Boand admits. -It was a lot to take in on short notice.-
“Perfect. Any tips?”
-Don't get stabbed!- she chirps cheerfully.
Not as helpful as you had hoped.
> They haven't attacked yet. Maybe they can be reasoned with?
> You need to get past them. Open with a long-ranged salvo.
> Close the gap.
> Write-in
>>43625978
>> You need to get past them. Open with a long-ranged salvo.
Our bow is probably our best bet, if we can take one out quickly the second will be much easier to deal with.
>>43625978
> You need to get past them. Open with a long-ranged salvo.
They're probably the sort of really alien spirit that only sees its purpose and can't be communicated with practically. We'll have to fight, and I don't want to get close.
>>43625978
>> They haven't attacked yet. Maybe they can be reasoned with?
Yeah why not, before laying the smackdown.
>>43625978
>> They haven't attacked yet. Maybe they can be reasoned with?
But don't really expect anything and stay wary.
>>43625978
>>43626037
>>43626054
>>43626064
>>43626074
Diarca, any chance we can pull our bow out and nock an arrow, but try and communicate before firing without losing initiative? Still think it's best to err on the side of caution and take the free bow shot, but I'd like to try some kind of communication.
>>43626130
I agree with that
>>43625978
>> They haven't attacked yet. Maybe they can be reasoned with?
After a moment's fumble you plant Modi's spear tip-first in the ground and draw the Song of the Deep. The chitin buzzes in anticipation at your touch, bowstring trilling softly as your fingers slide along it. You plant your feet on the cold marble floor, pulling the bowstring to your cheek and drawing a bead on the Eidolon holding the orb of blue flame. Tendrils of ice spiral outward from your feet, and you can feel a sharp downward spike in the ambient warmth around you as the bow draws on the thermal energy in the air.
A niggling doubt, though. One attempt to communicate.
In a motion that would make Ayren groan you lower the trajectory of your weapon slightly, keeping the string pulled taut. “Halt!” you call to the guardians. “I am the Totemist of this land! Yield your stations. I have right to pass!”
The cold-fire Eidolon pauses for a moment, its fingers slowly twitching against the orb of pale radiance in its fist. You open your mouth to call out to it again--
A searing cone of icy blue vomits forth from the orb, bearing down on you. You flex your legs and leap into the air, loosing the beam threatening the steal the heat from your heart. The violent motion sends your shot wide, carving a scything arc to the left of the fire-brandishing automaton. The marble melts to slag beneath the fury of the Song, and the sudden explosive inhalation of heat to the bow forms tiny crystals of ice in the air around you. The fire below melts them as soon as they form, and as you arc backward to land behind the curtain of scorching white flame, you do so in a sudden downpour.
>>43626513
Not to be reasoned with, then.
The lancer bellows a tinny sound and throws itself into motion. Its six hooves beat the ground mercilessly as it charges, closing the gasp faster than you believed possible. You hurl yourself to one side again as its spear sweeps out to sever your head from your shoulders. The edge of the blade nicks your arm as you twist away, drawing another brilliant line of carmine.
You barely have time to get your bearings before the lancer charges down at you again. Its thunderous hoofbeats slam a staccato rhythm against the ground, and you can see the air before it shimmering strangely as it charges. Beyond, the flamethrower has both hands pressed tight to the surface of the fiery orb, drawing careful aim on you.
> Focus on defense and evasion. You can't afford to take a hit here.
> Keep the lancer at a range and whittle it down with Songs.
> Avoid the lancer and get personal with the flame-bringer.
> Take the fight to the lancer with a meteoric strike.
> Write-in
>>43626531
> Focus on defense and evasion. You can't afford to take a hit here.
>>43626531
> Avoid the lancer and get personal with the flame-bringer.
We can't fight effectively when we're constantly having to shake off his aim. Get rid of him then take down the lancer.
>>43626531
>> Take the fight to the lancer with a meteoric strike.
Well, no more mister nice guy
>>43626531
>> Avoid the lancer and get personal with the flame-bringer.
Sup Dia
>>43626531
>Avoid the lancer and get personal with the flame-bringer.
>>43626531
>> Avoid the lancer and get personal with the flame-bringer.
DIVIDE AND CONQUER!
Lets hope these things aren't just meant to prevent other entities from gaining entry. If they are then fucking Ayren for making such a trap.
>>43626635
"Fuck Ayren for leaving behind _____" is kind of the running theme of Totemist Quest, really. It's a good thing that we're trying to document everything so that Terra won't run into the same problem.
fug, exams are stopping me from contributing. morning all, don't get us killed
>>43626708
And our bff Quinn!
>>43626780
Well, yes, but seeing how he's a partner as much as a student I'm counting him as being part of the "leaving behind" process.
> Punch Wizard
>>43626560
>>43626600
>>43626635
>Spear Contest
>>43626569
>Up up and away
>>43626558
> Roll 2d100
Rolled 97 (1d100)
>>43627062
Rolled 87, 6 = 93 (2d100)
>>43627062
Rolled 29 (1d100)
>>43627062
Forgot to roll 2>>43627081
Rolled 22, 92 = 114 (2d100)
>>43627062
Rolled 23, 92 = 115 (2d100)
>>43627062
Rolled 19, 13 = 32 (2d20)
>>43627062
Rollin
>>43627062
YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE REALLY HANDY RIGHT NOW?
a bamf magical girl girlfriend with bullshit magic
Something to think about
Rolled 62, 10 = 72 (2d100)
>>43627062
Fuck you wizard.
>>43627205
Yes, we know, that's why we promised Elana we'd research whether it was possible for her to use her powers without dooming the world. We'll get the magical girlfriend eventually, these sorts of things take time. Or not, maybe it will turn out to be impossible, but either way it's not something we could do right now.
>>43627205
There's no indication that she'll have USEFUL bullshit magical powers, though. Like, what if her deal is she can see the true nature of reality and scry anything perfectly. How would that help kill Ornstein's bitch cousin?
>>43627280
Well, that would be massively useful for a totemist. You're right that it wouldn't help in a fight, but I would kill for perfect scrying. That would help so much in making symbolic links for binding.
You glide backward along the floor, Bulwark Aurum's stone tiles glowing with soft golden light as ethereal wings buoy you to and fro. Another shot from Song of the Deep sends the Eidolon lancer careening off course, the sheer impact of the heat ray enough to shear its trajectory into a nearby wall. It goes -through- the marble, vanishing in a plume of dust. Your respite lasts only a moment before it explodes out of the wall a few feet closer to you, charging headlong -through- one of the pillars without so much as a scratch. The shimmering field of air around it as it charges seems to deflect the falling rubble away from it, rocks bouncing off of thin air as they tumble from above.
You leap over the Lancer again, feeling the air scream and bleed beneath you as the razor-sharp lance cuts an arc just under the parabola of your jump. Unable to contain its momentum, the lancer hurtles away once more. As it attempts to correct, you move in.
The combination of Cloudwalker Stride's rapid leaps and Bulwark Aurum's graceful gliding makes you a very difficult target to pin down. This doesn't stop the flamebringer from trying, tearing fistfuls of cyanotic flame from the orb in its grasp and lobbing them toward you.
> 92
You bob and weave your way around the salvo of mortar fire, spinning gracefully over the ground to avoid a projectile of liquid flame. The missile splatters the ground behind you, burning sinisterly across the cold marble. A leap from Cloudwalker Stride sends you hurtling toward the flamebringer. You can feel the Bolide Bracers hum as you rocket forward, building your momentum to critical mass.
>>43627590
You land short of slamming into the Eidolon, coiling yourself on the floor before it. When you leap again your fist rises in a meteoric uppercut. The air distorts and distends around your fist as the dense mass of invisible force that orbits the handwraps draws in for a critical strike. The Flamebringer sweeps its arms down to meet you, the orb of fire bisected into two spinning discs of flame.
> 29
The concussion is awe-inspiring. The orange-red glow of atmospheric re-entry collides with jagged blue flame in an explosion powerful enough to send your eyes spinning in their sockets. You grit your teeth as you spiral through the air, landing on the cusion of air that the Bulwark provides and sliding across the room. As you shake the ringing from your ears and slow the room from spinning around you you can see the pillars that sat beside the Flamebringer have simply ceased to be in a fist-shaped hole. The ejecta of your explosion is still rocketing into the distance. The Eiddolon itself seems to have parried the worst of your blow, though one of its arms has been roughly torn away from the elbow down. The half of its flame-orb that went with it smolders grimly as blue-black ash on the breeze.
You suddenly hurtle through the air again as Vestus Sonitus expels a concussive orb of force. The Lancer, recovered from its previous miss, recoils from the explosive emanation, wrenching its spear away from where it sought to pin you to the floor from behind. Taking control of you flight you slide to a stop near the twinned holes the Eidolon previously opened in the right-hand wall. The collateral damage in such a brief time is astounding.
Perhaps not enough, though.
> Back into the fray, and finish the flamebringer.
> This Lancer is a thorn in your side. Cripple it.
> You got lucky. Stay at a range and exploit your powerful bow.
> Call on Modi Magni's strength.
> Write-in
>>43627607
>> This Lancer is a thorn in your side. Cripple it.
>>43627607
>> This Lancer is a thorn in your side. Cripple it.
>>43627607
> This Lancer is a thorn in your side. Cripple it.
>>43627607
> Back into the fray, and finish the flamebringer.
Was last week's thread not archived? Can't find it
>>43627607
> You got lucky. Stay at a range and exploit your powerful bow.
>>43627680
There wasn't one last week.
>>43627680
That's because there was no thread last week. Last one was on Halloween.
>>43627699
>>43627713
K, thanks
You let out a groan of irritation as the Eidolon lancer rears into the air again, throwing itself across the room toward you in a terrifyingly powerful leap. This thing is very quickly becoming a thorn in your side. You glide away laterally, dodging both the calamitous spear-jab and the glob of liquid flame that quickly fill the space you leave behind. The Flamebringer is doing its level best to keep you pinned into a corner with jets of sticky cyan flame. Having only half the orb to work with doesn't seem to have hampered its range.
You draw the Song from your back once more, drawing the string as you zig-zag across the room. The pillars above are still raining fist-sized lumps of stone, molten in places from the sizzling flame that has scorched them.
The Eidolon wrenches its spear from the ground in a spray of marble chips. You note the Flamebringer has not moved from the plinth it originally occupied. There may be something to that. It is in the process of drawing a javelin of flickering flame from the depths of its weapon.
“Yeah,” you mutter. “I think that's enough of that.”
> Roll 1d100 to cripple the Eidolon Lancer.
Rolled 73 (1d100)
>>43628376
Rolled 41 (1d100)
>>43628376
For Mother!
Rolled 42 (1d100)
>>43628376
Rolled 36 (1d100)
>>43628376
Rolling 4th roll, I think.
>>43628397
Well, 73 isn't bad, if we don't get a crit.
>>43628376
Ṫ̷̬̟̰̩̦͍̫̣͐ͫ̏ͩͮͯ͟͢h̥̖̬͌̒ͩ̀ͤͥ̚ī͊ͯ̎̆ͥ́̿͏̸̤͍s̔ͨ̉͋̍̍͏̟̬͍̖̤̣̞̱͈ ̴͉̃̇̉ͫ̓̅͗ǫ̸̪̳͚͚͎̳ͨ̒ͧ̔ͩͫͨ̚u̙̣̹̬͕̗͔̿͋̀̐̍̊ͬ͠͠t͖̩̖͈͉͎̞͕̓̄͂͌̀͆̚c͈̥͍͉̙̘̭̺̺̆͒̚o̳ͦ̊m̶̢̗͎ͬͤͥ͑̐̋͋ͣ͝ḙ̵̠̬̪̫ͨ̀ ̶̢̝̰͓̄ͧͧ͞ḣ̶͎̹̦̾a̛̍ͦ͡͏͍̞̮̫s̱̠̦̙͑ͤ̏̑͒ ̶͕̰̻̰͕̠ͤ̾ͨ̑̔̆ͬ̍a̡̨̱͚͉͖̪͙̥ͮͥͅl̰͇̩̭ͧͨ͊r̛͉͕̞̭̮̠̓͠e̳̔ͣͣͤ͞a͎̮̹̩̅̍ͭ̇̆͐̐̌͝ḓ̗̤̖͎̮͉̓ͮ̉y̗̗̯͛̊̿̒͟ ̣̲̑ͧ̄͂͘b̨͎̗̾̈́̓̊e̟͕͇ͤ̉͑ͥ̈ĕ̬̬̜̼̊̌̀n̤͚̺̓̃̂̅̾̑̀̑̀͡ ̶͚̺̮̞̲̇ͮ̓̿̾̊̾́f̮̦̮̞̼̞̈ͤ̄̃͋͋̔́̚o̎͌̀̓҉̺̼͖̭̗̲̺r̬̹̩̠ͩ́̕͞ͅt̢̫͉̠͐ͤͦ͗ͩ̚ͅoͫͤ͟҉̳̰̹̟̗̫͘l̢̨̘̱̘̞͇͓̥̄ͨͬͤ̄̀dͬ̃̀̾͘҉͍̤̼͙͉͙ͅ
Rolled 5 (1d100)
>>43628376
ripandtear
The shimmering field of repulsion only encapsulates the Eidolon when it charges. It's vulnerable at rest—a fairly significant oversight, you should think. You draw a bead on the monster as it points its spear at you, hooves stamping the ground in preparation for another leaping charge.
“Keep posturing,” you mutter, slipping Infinity Incisor back over your face. The dark mutterings within the mask fill the air around you with a notable haze.
As it always does, the Eidolon rears up before it charges.
You draw the bow and fire.
>73
The star of curling frost at your feet reflects the dull red of the Song as it tears through the air. The beam impacts the Eidolon squarely between its front legs, carving chunk of molten stone wholesale from the beast's hide. The molten slags oozes from the newly created wound as the beast overbalances, rearing too far and toppling over to one side.
You're already on the move as the first javelin erupts from the Flamebringer at unreal speeds, spearing a smoldering hole in your cloak as you duck out of the way. Another needle-thin lance follows it. You nearly glide into a patch of still-burning liquid flame to avoid it, somersaulting through the air over it with a pulse of Cloudwalker's power at the last moment.
The toppled lancer claws at the ground, its front legs unable to support it without the internal support currently bleeding from the gaping hole in its abdomen. It closes its fingers around its fallen lance, using it as a crutch to slowly rise back to a standing position.
>>43628743
Running out of room to maneuver on the ground, you take to the walls. Bullwark Aurum flares gold as you race up one of the few intact pillars remaining in the entryway. A river of blue flame follows your climb up the pillar as the Flamebringer vomits chaotic radiance in your wake, struggling to draw down on you at the breakneck speeds you fly.
You leap back at the apex of the pillar, twisting through the air in a perfect parabolic arc. As you flip through the air you turn to face your target below, wings of gossamer gold steadying your spiraling flight. Song of the Deep trills as you draw it, suspended in mid-air, and fires a wildly twisting lance of heat and death through the antechamber below. The Song traces a twisting serpentine river of flame through the marble below.
You land in the midst of a raging inferno. Swinging one hand with Bolide's enhanced mass creates a rush of wind, sweeping the flames aside for long enough to catch a glimpse of the Eidolons.
The flamebringer is currently down a leg, staggering wildly to one side in an attempt not to fall from its raised dias. The lancer has risen again, and you see its arm arc back in preparation to hurl its massive glaive.
Modi's spear stands beside you, a pillar of reflective malevolence in the swirling firestorm that surrounds you.
> Finish this. Close the distance and destroy them.
> Catch the spear. Use it to end the firestarter.
> No need to get fancy. Your bow will melt them to slag.
> Redecorate with Bollide's might.
> Write-in
>>43628759
>> Finish this. Close the distance and destroy them.
>>43628759
> No need to get fancy. Your bow will melt them to slag.
>>43628759
> Catch the spear. Use it to end the firestarter.
>>43628759
> Finish this. Close the distance and destroy them.
I kind of hope that Osyki will finish off at least one of them by eating them with Infinity Incisor. What's the point of having a maw of the void if you're not going to consume your foes with it?
>>43628759
> No need to get fancy. Your bow will melt them to slag.
>>43628759
>> No need to get fancy. Your bow will melt them to slag.
>>43628759
>> Finish this. Close the distance and destroy them.
Don't want Modi getting jealous.
>>43628759
>No need to get fancy. Your bow will melt them to slag
You pull the string to your cheek, a feat made considerably faster by the burning Bollide runes wrapping your hands. The sudden influx of heat lights a cherry red glow between the chitinous plates of your weapon, and the floor beneath you is suddenly cold stone untouched by the inferno that raged around you. The combined heat of the conflagrations races up and down the thin conduit that is Song of the Deep's bowstring. You can feel it scorching your fingertips even as the Eidolon lancer heaves forward.
The lance surges toward you, barbed tines glinting menacingly in the light. You take a step forward and slightly to the right, advancing on your crippled foes. The spear blows past you, whisper-close, spiraling over your lowered shoulder with so little room to spare you feel a few locks of hair shaved from your head. The wind rushes past you for a moment, then abruptly doubles backs as you let the bowstring in your grasp snap home.
The beam that the Song launches is nuclear-hot, flash-burning the air around it in tongues of crazed flame. The blowback alone is enough to send you sliding back across the chamber. The ray of yellow-white luminescence devours the lancer's torso in the space of an eyeblink, chewing away at solid stone like a ravening parasite. It bores into the wall beyond, melting half of the lower steps into a slide of charred rubble and blackening the marble around for meters.
You stare down the Flamebringer as its companion's corpse clatters lifelessly to the ground. The orb of fire in its hand swirls furiously, and though it lacks the facial features you can sense the pained grimace it wears. It sweeps its arm back then hurls a shaft of crackling blue-black fury at you.
>>43629373
You step forward to meet it. This time directly forward, with no deviation or attempt to maneuver out of the way.
It's a curious thing. Flexing muscles absent from your body is akin to one's eyes adjusting to interior light after a day in the bright sun. The jaws of Infinity Incisor snap open to allow a secondary pair of fangs room to maneuver. As the blast-furnace spear rockets on a trajectory to take your head from your shoulders the articulating inner jaws of your mask snap open with the sound of brittle, cracking bone. The room around darkens instantly as the howling void contained within is exposed to the outside world, devouring light and sound alike. The Infinity Incisor meets the spear of light and devours it utterly, snuffing its glow so completely for a moment it seems to have never existed at all.
The Flamebringer stiffens in surprise momentarily before the next lance of light jabs out from your bow, searing an image of it in charcoal and soot against the far wall.
You're -really- glad that worked.
> Inspect the Eidolons. That spear may be worth salvaging.
> Proceed. You've apprentices to find.
> Swap some bindings. You feel unprepared.
> Write-in
>>43629386
>> Inspect the Eidolons. That spear may be worth salvaging.
>>43629386
> Proceed. You've apprentices to find.
We can salvage on our way out. We've got a mystery to solve, first.
>>43629386
>> Inspect the Eidolons. That spear may be worth salvaging.
>>43629386
>Proceed. You've apprentices to find.
>>43629386
>Inspect the Eidolons. That spear may be worth salvaging.
Also with our bindings, swap our armor around a bit since the one we're wearing is damaged.
>>43629386
>> Inspect the Eidolons. That spear may be worth salvaging.
If all goes well, we'll fix whatever's wrong with Ayren's magic and retrieve our apprentices both when we find them. We'll probably not exit this way.
Also, there's probably a reason there are guards posted here, so maybe we can replace them, eventually?
>>43629386
>> Inspect the Eidolons. That spear may be worth salvaging.
>> Proceed. You've apprentices to find.
Dual wielding spears anyone?
>>43629386
> Inspect the Eidolons. That spear may be worth salvaging.
You allow the Songbow to lean against the side of the stairwell as you move to inspect the remains of the Eidolons. It radiates enough heat to be markedly uncomfortable to hold. Some space to cool off would be best for both of you right now. It sparks fitfully against the cold marble as you move to the corner of the room.
You're surprised to find that what little remains of the flamebringer Eidolon is slowly dissolving. It is not an effect of the heat; rather, motes of green-white light are breaking free from the stone carapace that held the being's vital essence, migrating slowly back to the plinth upon which it rested. You can see small growths in the plinth where the motes touch down, a faint circle of stone that may be the beginning of a hoof.
It is regrowing. Very slowly, but there is no denying the process you see taking place before you. You'd imagine in days or weeks the plinth will have grown a new guardian to stand in the old one's place.
The other Eidolon fares much the same, though motes of light bleed from its primarily intact corpse at a vastly accelerated rate. The beginnings of a hoof are already formed in two places as the unmarred pieces of its corpus dissolve into ephemeral spiritual essence.
Curiously, its spear rests untouched, quivering and embedded up to the first spike in the pillar across the chamber. Not intrinsically part of the Eidolon, perhaps? The blade of the spear is long enough to be a hand and a half sword for someone of your scale.
A venomous muttering behind your ear tells you that it would be for the best if they did not regenerate. You have the tools to stop the flow of that vital essence at your disposal.
-Osyki?- Boand calls. -Everything alright?-
> Devour the Eidolon corpses.
> Shatter the regenrative plinths.
> Leave them be. You plan to own this place when you depart.
>Write-in
> Leave the spear.
> Take the spear. Bollide provides.
> Break the shaft of the spear, and take the blade as a greatsword.
> Write-in
>>43629998
> Leave them be. You plan to own this place when you depart.
> Leave the spear.
>>43629998
>Leave them be. You plan to own this place when you depart.
>Leave the spear
>>43629998
> Leave them be. You plan to own this place when you depart.
>> Leave the spear.
>>43629998
>> Leave them be. You plan to own this place when you depart.
> Leave the spear.
>>43629998
Take the spear.
>>43629998
>A venomous muttering behind your ear tells you that it would be for the best if they did not regenerate. You have the tools to stop the flow of that vital essence at your disposal.
Can we ask Modi Magni (I presume) why they shouldn't regenerate?
>>43629998
>> Leave them be. You plan to own this place when you depart.
> Leave the spear.
>>43630195
I suspect it's Hunger's mask that's doing the muttering
>>43630255
Oh, well that's a possibility. And means we should probably talk to the Hunger Spirit later, since it seems like it is sapient.
You pull the Incisor from your face with a moment's mental exercise. The disappointed snarl is cut off abruptly as the mask leaves your face. You leave it slightly ajar and hanging from the side of your head for the time being. You may need it on a moment's notice.
The Eidolons are the least of your cornerns now. You retrieve Modi and Song of the Deep as you head for the door, taking the slagged stairs two at a time as you head toward their apex. The portal is ajar when you arrive, the great clockwork mechanism overhead ticking quietly.
-Abandoning me in that fight was foolish,- Modi tells you in a tone of dry boredom.
“You didn't seem keen to help. I thought you were only interested in Dragonslaying and murder?”
-I am still the finest weapon in your arsenal.-
“You can't fire death-rays,” you point out. The spear goes quiet for a moment.
-As your proficiency with my many forms increases, you will find yourself less reliant on crutches such as that insect.-
“Is that so?” you say, suppressing a grin. “I'll keep that in mind.”
You shoulder the door atop the stairwell aside, stepping forward into—
Oh.
Behind the door stretches a chamber vast beyond imagining. The interior of a mountain range, hollowed and filled with enormous golden gears. A sea of liquid flame. A ruin suspended over a vast ocean, poruing waterfalls of crystalline energy into a seething whirlpool.
All of these images and more press themselves into your eyes and sear themselves into your mind. You let out a cry of surprise, staggering back a step and steadying yourself against the doorframe.
Behind the door is a long hallway. Doors line its length, each sealed by a lock of a different make and color. At the far end, a scrap of scorched paper rests at what appears to be a metal blast-door.
> Inspect the doors that line the hallway.
> You've wasted too much time. Keep moving toward your apprentices.
> Consult Boand about those strange visions.
> Write-in
>>43630460
> Write-in
See if there's anything written on the paper.
>>43630460
>> Inspect the doors that line the hallway.
but
>Keep moving toward your apprentices.
>>43630460
>> You've wasted too much time. Keep moving toward your apprentices.
Those doors are all very interesting, but the main priority is our apprentices. And, we might be able to enter this realm later and examine the doors at our leisure later, since we know how now.
>>43630460
Move towards the scrap of paper.
>>43630548
> since we know how now.
By going through a damaged area we are trying to repair. There's surely a proper way to get in, but this isn't it.
The world continues to unfold in a lotus of strange wonders around you, but you will not be swayed from your goal. You glance at the doors as you pass—one carved from crystal, another lined in silky black fur—but your goal is the scrap of paper at the end of the hallway.
You stoop to collect the fragment. It is a piece of the title page of Ayren's Greater Almanac of spirits, scorched round the edges by what you can only assume is Salamander flame. You can't imagine Terra defacing knowledge in any but the most dire of circumstances. Given the way she's cuddled that book like a security blanket, you feel secure in your decision to keep the urgency in your step.
Shouldering the blast-door open places you at the base of what appears to be an enormous blacksmith's forge. A deep ruby crystal the size of the Raising House juts from the wall, spilling what appears to be liquid fire into an enormous basin. Racks of strange and esoteric tools line the walls, while catwalks lead up from the ground floor to what appears to be a dias positioned above the burning crystal.
A muffled shout of alarm catches your attention. You whirl spear-first to find Quinn bound and trussed with ropes of white silk and silver chain. He's tied in the corner, restrained on what appears to be an enormous workbench. You can see his snake-headed Raptor mace writhing on the wall above him, pinned in place by a spike of dark metal.
You steal across the workshop floor to free him. Your knife makes short work of the silk gag in his mouth, and he heaves a sigh of the utmost relief.
>>43630911
“Osyki!” he cries before you put a hand to his mouth to quiet him. He coughs into your palm a moment before you pull your hand away. “I knew you'd come.”
“Who? Where?” You work quickly to slice the bindings holding him, though the silver chains prevent you from doing more than allowing him to sit up.
“I didn't see. Something came in through the window a few minutes after you left,” he tells you, his throat hoarse. “It—don't look at it, Osyki. It takes the thoughts from your mind. Eats them.”
You put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
He nods. “It's done some tests on me, but I haven't seen it in hours.”
“Hours?”
He nods. “Feels like we've been down here for days, Osyki.”
Your mouth is a thin line. The Mists play havoc with one's perception of time. You wonder how long it's really been.
“I think this was Ayren's actual workshop,” he continues. “His books and notes are scattered all over the place.”
“Quinn, where is Terra?” you ask, shaking his shoulder to snap him back to the here and now.
“I don't know,” he tells you, shaking his head wearily. “I haven't seen her.”
> Tear him free of his bindings, then send him home.
> You could use his help. Take a moment to re-equip him.
> Leave him here for now. It's best if you know where he is.
> Explore the forge. There must be some clue to follow.
> Write-in
>>43630925
>Tear him free of his bindings, then send him home.
Then search the area for clues.
>>43630925
>Check if he's up for lending a hand
if so
>> You could use his help. Take a moment to re-equip him.
Is the way we came in even open from this side?
>>43630925
> Write-in
Look at him with our second sight. I remember the last time we thought we had found a friend of ours in a weird other dimension. Let's just make sure.
>>43630925
> You could use his help. Take a moment to re-equip him.
>>43630994
Good thinking. Can't hurt to be cautious.
>>43630911
> You could use his help. Take a moment to re-equip him.
Shit, meet fan.
>>43630911
I want to see what's behind that fur-lined door. If we get the chance to come back here, let's look in there. It's such an odd detail that I can't help but be interested.
So, it sounds like we're fighting an anti-meme, I cannot exadurate how incredibly bad it is if this is the case, anti-memes can't be trained against, and the only way to kill them is through brute forcing it until you get lucky, hopefully its removing memories after the fact to hide its identity, in which case fighting it will be easy.
>>43631174
>Black fur and Crystal
I'm thinking the doors relate to our bindings somehow. Black fur is such a strange choice for a door.
>>43631363
That was actually my thought, too, but with only a two doors I didn't want to jump to conclusions. Though the forge being a giant ruby like the Siren's Heart is kind of like that, I guess. And the whole "hyperspatially-superimposed multiple locations" thing it has going on means it could shift to reflect its inhabitants.
You flex your fingers, testing the runes of the Bollide bracers. They seem to have retained most of their charge, judging by the glow. You brace Quinn against the wall, put your fist to his chest with a wad of silvery chain in hand, and -yank-.
He gives a cry of pain as his bindings strain against him for a moment before the links shatter against the Bracers' otherworldly weight. As he falls back you can see a number of bleeding lacerations where the chains whipped past his skin.
“Shit, you alright?” You help him to his feet. He sways unsteadily for a moment.
“I'm—yeah.” he doesn't look it. “Good enough. Where's my...?”
You point him to his still-writhing binding. He gives a cry of alarm, scrambling up onto the workbench again to pull the spike free. The binding comes undone as the spike is removed, and he unbalances himself trying to catch both his Focus and his mace. You step forward and catch him before he topples to the ground.
“Asshole,” he mutters, staring at his focus. “Poor thing didn't deserve that.”
While he's distracted, you take a moment to open your third eye. It appears to be Quinn for what you can tell—the calm tan-brown aura wavers unhealthily around him, but it's his essence through and through. The chain seems to have torn serrated gouges in his spiritual presence as well as his arms. How well equipped is this thing? And how long has it been lurking around the workshop?
Quinn steadies himself again, sliding his mace into a loop at his belt. He pockets the Raptor Spine focus.
“Steady on, then. I could use a hand, if you're up for it.”
He looks pale at the thought, but he nods all the same. “I don't suppose you have any water?”
You toss him the waterskin. He takes a few greedy gulps from it. “Thank god,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thought I'd die of thirst if that thing didn't cut me to death first.”
“Not on my watch.”
He nods. “Glad you've got my back, as always.” He pulls the Verdis Stinger focus from within his tunic. “Surprised it didn't think to search me. Hopefully that means it's careless, and not confident.”
“I'm personally banking on 'stupid',” you tell him. “It stole my most precious friends from me. Not indicative of something with an urge to keep on living.”
Quinn chuckles hoarsely. Marshalling his strength, he binds the Verdis Stinger to his mace. The weapon shifts and warps into a sinuous pick, the edge gleaming with black liquid. “I won't stand up to too many fights, but I can watch you back.”
“Good enough for me,” you tell him. “Let's head up. I've already checked out there.” You gesture to the hallway with your spear.
He nods. “Lead on.”
The two of you ascend the catwalks over the bleeding crystal. You draw Moth's First Resort with one hand, balancing Magni's spear in the other as you climb. The door at the apex of the stairs is another heavy blast-door. You lean against it and find it open again. Quinn gives you a cautious look.
The upper door opens into another short hallway. At its end, a grand antechamber stands partially revealed. Hanging drapes are dust-covered and partially motheaten, but the splendor of the room cannot be denied. As you creep forward, the edges of what appear to be an enormous empty doorway come into view on a raised dias to your right.
(cont.)
>>43631671
“What the hell did Ayren need a physical workshop for if he had all this?” Quinn mutters.
“I'm not so sure Ayren built this,” you tell Quinn. “I don't know that even he had the juice to raise something like this on this side of the veil.”
“Very astute!” a voice rings out in response, echoing through the hallway. It seems to surround you, booming in from all directions. “Like so many Totemists before, that man was nothing more than a vandalous hermit crab in this grand edifice.”
Quinn narrows his eyes, scanning the hallway behind you.
> “And who are you?”
> “Where is my apprentice?”
> “Reveal yourself!”
> Stay silent. Keep moving.
> Write-in
>>43631687
> “And who are you?”
Introduce ourselves first.
>>43631687
> “And who are you?”
Aside from a very poor host, that is.
>>43631687
"You'd be the Guardian of the Plains, I presume?"
>>43631687
>> “And who are you?”
> “Where is my apprentice?”
If this ends in a fight, as this guys appears to be familiar with totemists, I'm thinking Modi should be the weapon of choice.
>>43631687
>> “And who are you?”
>> “Where is my apprentice?”
>>43631735
If he knew Ayren he'll expect Modi, we need to pull punches he wont expect, which means... as much as I hate to say it... earth magic...We also will want to use our numbers, quinn wont win a magic fight or a long running standing fight, but he excels at proxy warfare, we should throw shit we aren't using to him and let him bind with it. That actually gives me a few ideas too.
What if we bound a bear trap to a raptor claw?
>>43631687
>> “And who are you?”
A name or title to feed to Boand for info on what'll we're dealing with.
>>43631776
>earth magic
hahah, no.
putting ourselves farther in the hole wont help anyone, and theres no reason he'd expect that any less.
>>43631812
True. We do our experimenting in what approximates for the old shed out back of this guy's house, he's probably seen everything we can do.
>>43631812
As we're planning a purge next meditation, Earth magic should still be valid option, just maybe not the first choice.
On an unrelated note, did Ayren keep an journal that we ever found? Have we been keeping one?
>>43631878
Ayren may have kept a journal, but Osyki hasn't found it. Though considering that Ayren apparently loved to hide away little catches for Osyki to find we might see it eventually. As for Osyki, he has a "things I've encountered that you should know about if I die" book that he's leaving for Terra and Quinn, but not a daily journal.
[[Sorry for the delay, folks. Internet is being spotty. We'll try to keep going, but if I vanish you know why. Post dropping shortly.]]
>>43632520
It's fine, these things happen.
>>43632520
THE QMS CURSE STRIKES AGAIN!
“And you are?” you ask the empty air, straightening your back and stepping out into the open. “Aside from a terrible host, that is.”
The voice scoffs audibly. “Cute,” it comments dryly. “But if you think I'm giving you anything for free, name included, I have some bad news.”
“Where is my apprentice, coward?” you growl, sweeping Moth's saber in the air with agitation.
“Right there beside you, of course,” the voice says with a sense of smug satisfaction. “Oh, you meant the -other- uninitiated intruder. My mistake. She's my personal guest for the time being. I haven't quite decided what to do with her yet.”
Quinn hisses. “I swear, if you've hurt her—“
“You swear what? Oh, stripling, know when to back down. You're lucky I didn't bleed you dry over the forge for what meager scraps of power you're still clinging to.”
His grip on the war-pick is white knuckled.
“Are you planning on taunting me all day? Or were we getting to the point?” you mutter, advancing into the antechamber. Another pair of double-doors lie on the level below down a grand stairwell. To your right, the vast and empty archway. Before you another hallway branches out, forking twice.
“I think you'll make time to humor me.” The voice has an edge of iron to it now. “I've debased myself to speaking your -simple- tongue, after all.”
You creep toward the archway. “Go on, then.” Let it talk while you scout.
(cont.)
>>43632810
“It's on your head, you know. However I decide to dispose of this whelp, it's your fault for beginning their training without taking the proper steps. There are -rituals- to be observed. They are unitiated into the Pact, Totemist, and still you teach them the arts.”
You pause, leaning on your spear. The Pact? “What, that meaningless—“
“Still your tongue,” the voice interrupts you again. “Before you say something your child will regret. You know better than any the importance of observing ritual, but still you flaunt your knowledge to those who have no place observing it.”
You can feel a knot of anger pulse at the base of your skull. You don't need a lecture from... whoever. “I didn't exactly have time to take them on a fucking vision quest!” you shout to empty air. “Ayren is -dead-. I'm here to pick up the pieces.”
“Your excuses are nearly as loathsome as your choice of allies.”
The archway is ringed by runes as well. You can feel Boand's pearl leech at your reserves as you gaze along them.
“Oh, the courts won't receive you, Totemist. You have to earn that right.”
> “Enough games. What do you -want-?”
> “I'm listening.”
> Don't feed this thing's ego. Keep searching.
> Write-in
>>43632831
> Don't feed this thing's ego. Keep searching.
>>43632831
>> “Enough games. What do you -want-?”
If he won't give us a straight answer, ignore him.
>>43632831
>> “Enough games. What do you -want-?”
Lets not fuck with spirits unless we know what there actual Method of Operation is.
It wants something, and if this is a construct or an ally of Ayren its possible that this is its standard attitude when its teaching a lesson, kind've like how Thane brought us into what could arguably be considered hell for a vision quest.
It also seems to consider that failure to be a violation of some sort, which means this all might be on us.
>>43632831
>"Enough games. What do you -want-?”
>>43632831
> Don't feed this thing's ego. Keep searching.
>>43632831
> “I'm listening.”
I'm still gonna say this is something Ayren really should have taught us, but unfortunately, spirits don't really consider ignorance an excuse.
>>43633025
The more I learn about Ayren, the more and more I think he was an ego-driven douchebag with a messiah complex, who viewed himself as functionally immortal while on his grand quest and likely got himself killed with his own hubris.
Hell, why didn't he at least make a book of "Big Bad Things That Will Kill You", and add a section in on not properly initiating people before teaching them the art. Or adding "Revealing the Village to the Mad Would-Be-God" Seriously, it'd be a good book to have.
>>43633025
That's the weird thing, none of the other spirits we know ever mentioned this. At the very least I would have expected Boand to casually ask about when we planned on taking our students on their vision-quests, if it was so important. I'm thinking this is probably some ancient thing that most spirits don't care about, but the ones who do REALLY care abut.
> “I'm listening.”
>>43633079
I think the biggest problem was that he was *almost* as good as he believed himself to be.
>>43633122
Don't forget that Sylvaniis, the Swamp Mother and the Stone Emperor never mentioned the Plains having their own Land Guardian.
>>43633079
Guys, I've come to a decision, when this is over we are starting that book, a book of all those horrifying entities that will wreck your shit if you try to fuck with, and why you shouldn't, starting with the thing that killed Ayren, and hopefully not ending with our apprentice writing up the thing that killed us. Although it'd be fitting, imagine a thousand year log of all the eldrich abominations, rituals, and mistakes one could make to die horribly, that contain one story and another of totemist negligence, bad tact, poor decision making, or just bad luck.
There will have to be at least one record of someone licking an elemental essence.
>>43633179
Its possible she assumed it was dead. Hell, boand seems suprised and she should be in direct conflict with that spirit, we expanded her territory directly through the village, I don't get how we didn't get fucked over by that.
>>43633179
Are we dealing with the equivalent of backwoods country bumpkins, who don't even know the kings name?
>>43633179
True. It was kind of odd that Boand just now brought it up. Actually, how do we know we were talking to Boand in the first place? This thing has shown the ability to jam the communication, maybe it can hijack it, too. Maybe this whole thing is just it fucking with us.
>>43633205
Boand is no longer backwater anything, she probably outpowers Sylvaniis now, and the Swamp Queen has gotten stronger now too.
>>43633217
Boand read it off the wall with the runes, if I were looking at a contract I'd look for the signing parties names first also.
Its possible this thing was put down or trapped several centuries ago.
Rolled 7 (1d100)
Right, it's been an hour, time to fire up the dark magic.
The angry knot between your shoulderblades tightens again. You whirl away from the empty archway, lip curled. “Enough of these -games-,” you growl. “What do you -want-?”
There is a moment's silence. A dark blot appears in the air above you, a spreading stain in the fabric of the air. It is followed by another, then another, until a swirling mass of black sphere twists together in a chaotic mess. The jumble finally resolves itself in a flash of gold and black, sweeping up to you nearly quicker than your eyes can track it.
“This is precisely the problem I mean,” the thing says. “You and your master are the same plague. You ignore law and tradition for what is expedient and convenient.”
It sweeps away in a blur of feathered robes, dodging the instinctive sword-swipe. As the mothpowder settles to the floor the figure shudders in the air violently, empty robes fluttering in an unfelt breeze. The light behind its mask glows bright.
“You alter what you find inconvenient, and ignore that which you cannot be bothered to alter.”
It jerks to one side, then drops to the ground. Skimming along the surface of the carpeted floor, it weaves in and out of the pillars around you.
“In doing so, you endanger yourself and all those who have come before you. You are a -menace-.”
You bite back the scathing reply boiling in the back of your throat, watching the thing dart to and fro. It moves without rhyme or reason, tangling itself in the hanging curtains, sweeping along the ceiling in weaving patterns.
It finally slows to a halt, floating before you to gaze at you sidelong. The glowing moon-like horn atop its mask (head?) gleams in the hazy light.
“You are not worthy to bear the title of Totemist. I cannot cast you out, for your pact has been made, but you are not welcome here. You are a base hunter, tearing trophies from your grisly work without appreciation for the delicate infrastructure that makes such things possible.”
(cont.)
>>43633839
Rude. And I'd say we've been working on making up for the areas our master neglected to teach us.
>>43633839
“And who—what are you, to make such a sweeping judgment?” Quinn demands behind you. “You kidnapped me to, what, act as bait so you could belittle my friend?”
“I took you as a warning,” the spirit rumbles. “All things can be taken away from one so unwary and poorly defended. You hurl yourself unblinking into the void and you are surprised when you attract unwelcome attention. I am far from the most malevolent entity you could have garnered notice from. Consider yourself exceedingly -lucky-.”
You repeat Quinn's question: “Who are you?”
The spirit draws itself up to its full height, robes of feathered darkness bristling. The air looms with sudden gravity, and the room goes absolutely quiet save for the chiming of the spirit's voice.
“I am the Guardian of this place, keeper of the Holy Vault and Link to the World Without.”
The air in the room goes thin, and mist—numbing gray mist—spills from beneath the spirit's robes. You can see spiritual power leaking from it with your naked eye, an incandescent aura of gold that forms arcane sigils in the air.
“I am Hesheza Zahn, signatory and seal of the Totemist's Pact.”
It fixes you with its piercing white gaze, boring into your very core.
“Who are you?”
[[I hopefully got internet long enough to post this. We'll end here for the night before my luck runs out with my ISP. Sorry for the short thread, folks--we'll pick up here next time. Thanks for playing, and have a wonderful week!]]
>>43633885
Aw, just when it was getting good. You tease. Well, thanks for running, Diarca. See you next time.
>>43633885
>“I am Hesheza Zahn, signatory and seal of the Totemist's Pact.”
Well. Maybe we should actually take its criticisms on board.
Thanks for running, Diarca.
>>43633885
So, this is definitely not a worst case scenerio, at least not yet, we can definitely salvage this without any significant shit getting fucked up, and probably spin it as a learning experience for everyone involved.
>>43633885
Okay this tears it. The village is definitely built on top of something important in the spirit world. I wonder if Ayren's master moved to Grisoch to get access to this place.
>>43633918
Most of the criticisms are completely valid, he's just delivering them in the most asshole way possible and considers ignorance to, if anything, be even -worse- than willfully disregarding things.
>>43633918
Well, he has a point. But on the other hand, what fucking choice did we have? Seriously, Hesheza Zahn, tell us what you would have had us do. Yeah, we rush into things, a lot. But we do that because if we slow down for even a little bit we'll be crushed by any of the dozens of threats to us. He wants us to fix things now that we've bought some breathing space, to make it right? Fine. But he doesn't get to condemn us for taking the only option we had available with our limited skills.
>>43633885
How the fuck did Aryen not develop a drinking problem from all of this, this is the kind of shit that would drive people to alcoholism.
>>43633961
Almost certainly, it'd also explain why we're the only colony to survive, despite the fact that there have been literally dozens.
>>43633965
He doesn't give a fuck, to him we are taking everything he stands for and are pissing on its very name, we're the bastard of apprentice of a renegade man and hes fed up with it, especially after being unable to let this message sink into our former masters head because he likely couldn't catch our master at a disadvantage and knew he'd get killed if he did so. Hes disgruntled and has an actual right to be.
>>43633990
>Implying Ayren was not a raging alcoholic.
>>43633971
I don't think not having time is an excuse, because we did. The problem is that Ayren never taught us what was and wasn't important because that man appears to have had respect for no one. I find it likely we had more than enough downtime to do whatever it is he wanted to do, but we were never told most, if any, of it.
Unfortunately blaming all our problems on a dead man is gauche, so there's little we can do but bow our head, swallow our pride, and learn, saving the muttering until we're out of here.
>>43633990
The fact that until now we had no idea he even existed and still have only the vaguest idea what he stands for is... probably not helping his mood, huh?
>>43634115
Yes, hes tired of being disregarded and us bringing in two uninitiated people and teaching them the art was the final straw, and now that Ayren was out of the way to not murder him for so much as raising a finger against his ways, he can go and pull this stunt, because he knows we'll actually listen and act on it. Its the easiest course of action for us, the most expected course, and the most risk averse course.
>>43634161
>It's the easiest course of action for us, the most expected course, and the most risk averse course.
Does that mean we shouldn't do it though?
>>43634264
Like I know that sometimes to get the best outcome we need to be willing to gamble and put everything on the line but this... Does not at all seem like one of those times.
This dude is so full of shit. So Zahn breaks into our home, kidnaps our charges from us, tortures at least one of them, violates the sworn duty we were born to do, steals our two oldest spirits, insults us, insults our master who is like our parent to us, and then tells us that WE offend HIM and to get out.
Fuuuuuck this dude, and the fucking horse he rode in on.
If he decided to kidnap our adopted family to "teach us a lesson" that we're always in danger from anywhere and at any time, then we already fucking knew that. We live it every day. Thanks for wasting our time.
If he decided to kidnap them because he's pissed we don't know the laws and traditions he set forth, then he can either strike us down, or start teaching. Because Zahn is the only one who seems to care, and Aryen sure as hell didn't write it down anywhere. Be mad at the dead guy, not us.
If he's upset because we're ignorant, then I guess he shouldn't have agreed to a deal with a human in the first place. Because all humans everywhere are ignorant, and always will be.
The guy is a complete asshole and probably could've contacted us in ways that didn't involve personally offending us in just about every conceivable way. If he wants us gone, he's either going to give back Terra, Amal, and Tryd, or he's going to have to try to force us out the hard way. Either way, he can sit and spin.
>>43634738
I think the only reason he's able to do this is Quinn and Terra accidentally broke into his home first, which shows that all of us could have used an education.
Also lots of spirits trash-talk Overwake, it's not a big deal.
>>43635377
>Also lots of spirits trash-talk Overwake, it's not a big deal.
And if that's all it was, I'd be fine with it. Water off the back. But as is, it's just another point against his case.
>>43635377
>Also lots of spirits trash-talk Overwake, it's not a big deal.
My parents may have been not-great people, but it still stings a bit when someone else mentions it.
>>43634738
>Fuuuuuck this dude, and the fucking horse he rode in on.
He had limited opportunity to do something and apparently very little knowledge of us.
He likely based his opinion of Osyki on what he knew about his master. Who was extremely arrogant, intentionally brokered pacts that he intended to break and was very hard to talk to.
Consequently, the spirit had a terrible opinion on us and decided kidnapping those two youngsters was a) His right and duty as the overseer of totemists. b) The best way to quickly find out more about us and c) a good way to get us to listen to him.
I would reserve judgement until we find out what happened to Terra. Also, without Overwake we have very limited opportunities to learn about totemists. We should definitely try to befriend this one if possible.
Showing humility costs nothing and benefits us. He’s like a police officer who finally managed to catch trail of an old mobster and still lets the new mobsters off with a kind of warning instead of completely busting their asses.
We should let Modi out of the spear
Rolled 58 (1d100)
>>43637074
I agree, what could possibly go wrong, its not like he is actively hostile to human life or anything, I'm sure we'd be able to stop him before he finished cutting his way through the entire town, we'd have at least five survivors or so!
