Adam looks for a mantlet (portable shield for sieges), or suitably big rock to get behind. This place looks hella open with all those archers in the tower. Glott chortles maliciously, "First minute 'n he's a coward! I preach cowardice! No farms to buy out here anyway, they all BURNED UP! HA!"
And speaking of the archers. Adam sets his eyes on the little holes over the gate, focusing on the arrows & other missiles coming from within. Words trickle out of his mouth that he shouldn't even have the organs to produce...
"Fm'latgh, grah'n... Y'lw'nafh n'ghft." (Edit: "Hex, Bewitch, Hopeless".)
Adam casts a curse on the tower's archers for attacking us! May bad luck dog their steps! May their shafts find the backs of their fellows, their own traps clap shut 'round their necks, and their minds quake with hopelessness before our might.
Stand back at a distance, somewhere the archers' arrows will lose a bit of their speed before hitting me, and hope the armor's enchantments will view arrows as something similar to shrapnel.
Spell: Bolt, Shatter, Wood! Blast the front door into pieces so other siegers can get inside easily.
Thinking cautiously Adam moves quickly behind a nearby siege-cover, seeing his commotion Daalira quickly joins him.
Without hesitation, they amass their own thoughts into their spellcasting...
Adam (1d6+1=5)Daalira (1d6+1=3)
With singular concentration, Adam squeezes curse upon curse into the cramped minds of the defenders, many lose morale, some fall into outright-madness, mumbling and babbling.
Some of the completely hopeless cower beneath their archer nests, reducing the incoming spells and projectiles falling on the besieging heads!
On the other hand, Daalira points to the wooden gate positively focusing on it's destruction!
Unfortunately, a fizzy bolt of sharp steel directs itself into the huge wooden doorway chipping away at some of it's boards and planks...
Within the split second of the spells' completion, a few arrows hurtle towards the pair, luckily their battlement should aid their defense...
Daalira (1d6+1 siege-cover=5)Adam (1d6+1 siege-cover=3)
Fwoosh!Proud with his spell-casting Adam is delayed to notice the quick arrival of a cluster of arrows!
Three land near his right foot and an awkward fourth skims his right leg, tearing through his trouser and leaving a shallow-cut on his leg.
Damn it, I forgot to add a belt to Gordack. That’s gonna bug me for about five minutes, then he’ll probably die.
Gordack grabs a belt if he can find one, and wraps it around his waist. He then will get behind the various peoples marching at the gate, and shoot a spell, Radial, Cowardly, Terrifying at the defenders above the front gate. He then says:
Hopefully, they should start running away screaming. Or they might not. Either way, it’ll be a distraction to one side or another...
Meanwhile, Gordack dashes to the edge of the field of battle. Squinting he peers for a dead wizard no longer in need of girdle...
What belt does he find?
(Roll 1d10=4)DEX SAVE
(roll 1d6=5)He finds a corpse with little difficulty on a battle-field.
After poking-around to see that the cadaver isn't set with a vengeful hex or booby-trap, he snags it's belt with ease.
The belt is a soft leather style. Dyed blue with brass clasps and decorations, it's a dignified piece of clothing, almost lordly! A brown leather satchel is attached to it's front, the leather looks rough and cracked.
As you tie it to your waist and give it a tug you notice a fire-ball fly a few feet behind you. An amateur shot, you think to yourself...
time to show them a real spell!
(roll 1d6+1=3)
Gordack arrogantly closes his eyes and fixates his arcana on the minds of some defenders! Intent on sending them reeling to their hiding-spots he tries to jab their mind into submission...
Unfortunately, the spell only causes the defenders to remember that one embarrassing moment from their childhood that they keep trying to forget...
The defenders cringe and wince but quickly return to siege-warfare!
(Looks really great. Thank you.)
Cast Flying Block Platform, to create a platform which I then ride through the air towards the door. Zip it around to dodge incoming shots, a true smitemaster never loses his footing.
If the spell fails, just follow the narrow pathway
(roll 1d6+1=2)
The big ugly purple guy with the big sword, mindfully casts out his spell and takes a step to the incoming platform...
As soon as your foot lands on a surface the distinct crunch of grass beneath your boot notifies you that the spell failed...
With a sigh of disappointment you move to the narrow trail and casually fall behind the main army of besiegers.
"Perhaps we require more aid. More allies for the cause!"
Use my chalk to draw a summoning circle. Then attempt to summon something using the words 'Protect, Shine, Truth'.
"Hear me, watcher in the stars, shepard of truth, beacon in the night. Send me your servant, that we may defeat our foes and find what we are looking for."
Krofeus, finds his familiar chalk and get's to drawing a rune-circle in the ground.
As the chalk digs through a faint layer of dirt, he finishes his circle and put's away his chalk... the summoning spell is next...
(roll 1d6+1=6)
As the rune-lines glow and rumble a momentary light appears above the circle...
Within seconds it reverse to a blackness similar to that of the night-sky. As the light changes, the summons form appears out of the empty air!
You immediately notice the lengthy tendrils continuously emerging from it's center. From their pitch-colored length you notice droplets of a deep dark liquid seeping from the beast, the liquid seems to dig into the soil...
Your gaze continues to the source of it's numerous arms into it's center, where four white eyes are situated. They really stand out from it's dim appearance.
As you glare at this magical beast with curiosity, it begins to hover above you. Wrapping it's tendrils near and around you as if there we're an invisible sphere around your flesh.
You feel somewhat defended, if not encouraged by the creature's presence. With confusion however, you wonder how such a dark beast could have been made from your bright spell...
A bit quick to charge in.
Rū takes her Sakazuki and pours the sake over her unsheathed Sakeblade.
"Flow, Float, River"
The Flowing Sake slowly but surely forms streams entering into the arrowslits in the tower, floating in the air, waiting, poisoning. All from her.
(roll 1d6+1=3)
You generously cover your blade with the sake, as it seeps off it's edge you point it to the tower and watch it dissipate into a fine stream... it floats on it's way to the tower through the slits and-.... wait it's going everywhere now...
As the sake mist flows throughout the battlefield, attackers and defenders alike begin to feel a light intoxication, relieving the fear in men's hearts and granting them courage!
And getting a few a little tipsy... Although the defenders afflicted by Adam's madness aren't affected, some of the less-afflicted have regained some of their courage, if not blinded themselves to their fear.
Alisdair immediately downs his potion of mystery, before screaming a battle cry at the top of his lungs and charging down that narrow path towards the front door.
((Have another comment complementing your art, I'm quite liking this so far!))
Sornwerk looks up at the many archers and mages targeting his allies, then back down at his dinky little rifle that he has precisely two non-useful bullets for. Then one of his allies chugs a potion and charges into the fray heedless of any danger, and he shrugs, before setting off after the man.
Raise one arm and cast a spell with the words "Protective, Moving, Dome", then run along with the crazy brave guy that's charging forward (and any other PCs), trying to keep them under the dome's aegis.
Name: Sornwerk the Mute
Str:0
Dex:3
Mind:7 (7/7 Mana)
Appearance: A tall fair-skinned man with a lanky build, wearing black gloves, a light jacket with many pockets along the front side, and heavy leather pants that have had several pieces of long metal sewn haphazardly onto them. He's entirely hairless, and appears to lack eyes; there's a ring of depthless black around his entire head at eye level, which seems to lack any features. He's still fully capable of vision, though.
Early in his days of wizardry, Sornwerk attempted to cast what he dubbed "The ultimate thieving spell", which was intended to quiet his footsteps and allow him to see perfectly in any darkness. Unsurprisingly, the novice mage botched the spell; ever since, he has been
completely unable to produce any sound, of any kind, no matter how he tries, leaving him with charades as the only form of communication he has. Additionally,
his possessions and flesh (aside from the black strip on his head) are very faintly luminescent, though it's barely enough to illuminate anything in pitch darkness.Equipment:
- Alfred the Evercat: More of a curse than anything, Alfred is a feline of somewhat variable size, color, and breed, which constantly follows Sornwerk around. While completely mundane to normal inspection, aside from an unusual indifference to danger and a consistently irritating attitude, Alfred is functionally immortal. No matter what happens to the feline, whether it's stabbed, shot, incinerated, or simply left behind, it always ends up showing up later, generally being very vaugely annoying. Sornwerk lets the cat do as it pleases, sometimes holding it, sometimes ignoring it, as it will nip him painfully if he does anything less.
- Scrounger's rifle: An old rusty bolt-action rifle, with a long bayonet on it. It is enchanted to be able to fire any kind of gunpowder bullet, but its magic has decidedly unpredictable interactions with any magical bullets. If used with one, it has a completely random magical effect, generally unrelated to the original enchantment or even the concept of firing something; it has an equal change to recolor Sornwerk's hands, heal his target, detonate a friend's head messily, or do absolutely nothing. Normal bullets work great though! Sornwerk has two magical bullets, and usually carries the rifle slung over over a shoulder.
- Write-only paper: A piece of paper that causes anything written on it to fade away after about a second. He bought it in hopes of having an easy way to communicate. It doesn't work well.
- Rope: It's a long rope! What, does everything have to be magical? Uhh, its enchantment is that it looks really really mundane to everyone who sees it. It is always perfectly normal and boring, completely unnotable. Yeah. He wears it like a belt.
((I like the way you draw fish people in particular.))
Charge the gate alongside Alisdair.
charge at the front gate using my dexterity to avoid attacks.
If possible try to stab the door the door with my dagger of unlikely Death maybe it will make it fall.
Sornwerk (roll 1d6+1=5)Alisdair's (roll 1d10000=3531)
Alisdair downs his elixir of mystery and with very low expectations charges courageously for the gate!
Seeing his bravery many come to his side and join the charge, finally a four wizard wide charge commences!
With a quick wit and a strong mind Sornwerk's spell of protection forms. A round sphere, having a faint red glow and a glass-like texture forms. The spell is of excellent quality and with his arm raised Sornwerk watches all projectiles bounce off his magic shield!
Wait, what's that weird feeling...?
As you all notice the change of pace of the charge from forward to downwards it becomes apparent something is awry. Peering around yourself it seems you've all begun sinking into the earth below. Strangely it's not that the dirt turned to mud, in-fact it seems more that the grass and ground has slowly begun making-way for you, allowing a gentle descent to the unknown below your feet.
It seems the potion has caused the ground beneath Alisdair's feet to turn into a whirlpool. Fascinating!
After a long moment of sinking you all drop down into a very warm room. Well, less a room and more-so a cavern of sorts?
As you land on your feet and peer towards anything interesting, you all notice a singular blazing light above the center of the room.
Beneath it is a large, almost perfectly circular pool of steaming water. It has no distinctive smell but it's color is light cyan, almost tropical.
As you begin to sweat you assume that this room is some kind of sauna or a public-bath.
In your quick assessment you find one door connected to the wall and a stairway leading up higher... The room is empty of any wizards.
Name:
Fleshmonger NostStr:3
Dex:3
Mind:4
Appearance: A Fleshmonger is a dealer in flesh and inevitably an addict of their own product. The world is a dangerous one and there is always a need for new limbs and organs, fleshmongers make their living harvesting parts and selling them to the crippled or those who desire greater power. Nost wears the normal garb for a flesh monger: Full length leather apron, leather long boots, thick leather gloves, Dark red robe designed to hide bloodstains, Wide brimmed hat with three severed mummified human fingers hanging from the side to show his social rank, Bone mask made from a horse skull, and a censer full of smoldering incense to mask the smell of decay.
Nost himself is not easily visible under all his clothing but he is likely a rather Frankenstein like mish-mash of parts, a quilt of random flesh sections, arms not quite the same length, one leg ending in a hoof instead of a foot, an eye too big for the socket and bulging forth, etc. Such is the fate of old Fleshmongers, survivors of long and injurious lives and addicts of flesh. He is here because there is flesh to harvest and men in need of his products.
Equipment:Fleshflayer's knifeFirst of the Signature equipment of the Fleshmongers, it looks like
an oversized Fillet knife, very long, thin and sharp. The knife is designed for dissecting flesh, slipping between joints, easily carving through muscle and tendon. Cuts made by the fleshflayer's knife do not bleed nor do they hurt, allowing a fleshmonger to ply his trade without the constant wailing of his customers.
Fleshmender's NeedleSecond of the Signature equipment of the Fleshmongers, the Needle is a long golden suture needle notable for its curved shape. The Needle has the unique property that any flesh sutured together using it will heal and fuse together. Severed limbs, even limbs of completely different creatures, will fuse with stumps and function as though they were the patient's own.
Fleshhorder's VaultThird and last of the signature equipment of the Fleshmongers and responsible for their famous hump back appearance. The Vault is a large pill shaped container containing a supply of preservative green goo. Flesh placed in this goo does not rot, putrefy, or otherwise go bad, allowing the flesh mongers to carry their stock with them over long distances and time periods without fear of spoilage.
Malleus MaleficarumA heavy black hammer and 6 matching
square iron nails. The nails cannot be lost and will always, eventually, return to the hammer and its user. When a nail is driven into flesh, living or dead, that flesh comes under the control of the hammer's owner. Larger or more powerful creatures may require more nails to completely control. These controlled creatures are only controlled as long as the hammer remains in the user's hands; if the hammer is lost or dropped, the controlled flesh reverts to normal until the hammer is again controlled. The nails can be pulled from the flesh to sever the connection.
I was tempted to just play as a skeleton with a die, but I figured a merchant/medic/necromancer was more fun. Lemme know if I'm OP PLZ NERF.
With your brimmed hat blocking the bright sun, you smell the taste of iron in the air and know that the bloodshed of a siege has started.
You are currently at the war-camp, within your personal tent, it houses your travel-belongings and what-not.
You wonder what you will do today.
Author
Topic: WIZARD Ramble! - An Illustrated RTD Dungeon-Crawl! (Read 7069 times)