TURN SEVENWhence man met God,
Let he raise the axe,
Creator, spare the rod,
Thine blood, red a tax.
- ? - FATES DESCISION - QUARRYING STONE - 1d10 + 1 (Might) =
10!FATES DESCISION - DUNGEONS OF THE DEEP - 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
3Your words, '?', do not fall upon deaf ears. Despite bearing no communicable language of their own, the Beastkin appear to intrinsically understand you. Perhaps some instinctual notion, or perhaps rather it is their intrinsic connection with their void mother, so to speak. Once again led by the Lone Soldier, your most ardent followers step out from the confines of the Apathetic Keep, traipsing through the many black spires until they come upon a good patch of flat land. She directs the rat-like cave dwellers with the utmost perscision, using their bone tools to form the basis of the quarry the beastkin waste no time to satisfy their saviour. Even if her words were merely a passing remark. It is in no time at all that under the Soldier's leadership, the creatures have quarried a number of great blocks of deep gray from which to be carven.
As her servants toil in the fields of fossil-grass, while fungal blooms sporeficate across the invisible voidlines, '?', sets upon sinking the rival mystic encroaching on her lands. Or at the least, deeping the abyssm that is the churning waters about the Continent of Monsters. Again you weave the everpresent stuff of the dark pit below, sending magicks far away across the spindled leylines. As your spell passes the Inkfields, it weakens, you feel a rebounding snap of energy as if your magicks had been cloven in two, and a piece of the voidlines severed. Motes of the remaining void spell sink into the darkest depths, mixing the waves above ever so slightly more and settling far beyond perception. You are wholly unsure if this weakened seed will take root, but time will tell. More certain however, along those spider web leylines, you feel the slow sapping of the nothingness in the void, power drunk to strengthen and grow the eventual shaded woods that will take upon this land. Beasts shudder within Woe's Den, vermin begin to scurry the surface of the Eastern Continent with little else to eat but one another. Their carcasses rotting upon the rocky wastes.
- Hood -FATES COLLIDE! - HOOD VS. SERPENTS - Hood's Destructive Tendrils! -- 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
11!Lurking Serpents Resist -- 1d10 + 4 (Hardiness) =
5Hood, barely you manage to stand, using one of the many shattered femurs scattered across the deck of your Barrowhold Galleon to steady your twisted leg. For now, it'll be enough. You bark at the few remaining skeletal Forgotten to bring this ship away from this harrowing shore, they adhere to their master's wishes, dancing down the the hold where the great bony fins of ancient whales are set as rows of many oars. You are left, leaning upon your calamitous spear center deck as the sea again begins to rumble and rasp at the hull of your ship. Once more, the Lurking Serpents raise their heads to loom over the galleon, their eyes glimmering now with the utmost malice, a desire beyond their biology, wishing only to drag your broken corpse to the deepest depths. You have other plans, however.
As three great maws slaver over the deck, you struggle to stand tall and firm, though those features of yours do not betray your pain. Holding the spear outstretched and aloft, you swing once with a mighty gust to follow through, in an instant, the head of one of the serpentine beasts sail down thumping upon the deck before your feet. 'Twas not merely sliced, the crimson-black tendril that extends from the blade of your spear pulses with unspeakable energy, sea spray vanishing upon its undulating form. You waste no time, sping about on your good leg with another strong swing, the whip-like tentacle disintegrating flesh, bone, blood, disintegrating all that it touches as it passes through the bodies of two more of the massive serpents. Thrashing in their death-throes, the creatures sink into the sea where their kin engorged themselves well. It's merely enough time for your ship to get a foothold of sailing beyond these shores. However, your skeleton crew as it were isn't quite numerous enough to the task of rowing this massive ship. Even so, your escape from is begun.FATES DESCISION - SAILING WEST - 1d10 - 2 (Minimal Crew) =
4Lurking Serpents - Population: Some -> Small
- Amon -FATES DESCISION - IMBUING LUCK - 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
10!FATES DESCISION - IMBUING PERFECTION - 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
3FATES DESCISION - IMBUING ELDRITCH - 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
4One begins to wonder if it is not the Gazelings that lack the neccisary stimulation to evolve, but Amon himself. Back at it again, perhaps in parts frustration, boredom, and anticipation for things to come in equal quantities, once more do you attempt to manipulate the many concepts of being. Another weave of magicks beyond comprehension of many an archmage, you do you work. A twist of power enraptures yourself, Gazey, and 'BoB'. Working from head to toe, like a mystical filter passing through you and the others. Yet as you turn to gaze into the sea and bear witness to your immaculate transformation. . . Nothing, you're unaltered. Well, maybe that makes sense you are already perfect after all. So instead you turn to look upon Gazey, who in turn is looking upon you. The hefty eyeball with legs is also unchanged. Again a wave of dissatsifaction travels through you, it's not to say that concept manipulation is an easy task by any means, but the disappointment of your perceived failures is rearing its ugly head. Is it this still place? What are you missing?
Perhaps. . . Perhaps it is simply luck after all? The Fate's of magick are often the fickle sort. One moment a spell may wreath a foe in rippling flames, the next they might do little more than inhale a puff of black smoke. So of course, that's all you need, luck! Again you close your eyes as the surge of magicks flow through you, altering the makeup of you and your creations bodies, laquering your soul with a heaping helping of beautiful green luck. It's not a flashy process by any means, but just to be sure, you break off a small piece of flat stone and carve an eye on oneside, and a foot on the other. Sixteen times in a row you flip the stone coin and call which side it lands on precisely!
For the next 5 turns, Amon, Gazey, and BoB gain an additional +1 to all rolls.For now, it will do. Having exhausted your power for now under the silver moon, you begin to construct a small shelter of stone. All this time, the little Gazeling has watched as you speak to it, intently. You suddenly notice that the creature is carrying assorted stones to you, not with any new hands or even its feet, but a mouth full of jagged teeth that sits between its stubby legs, pointed downward. Suddenly, your land shakes, the Beast of Basalt uprights itself, stepping onto the massive pillar of stone that holds up the Cosmic Throne, it's legs meld into the rock, gliding slowly, yet gently up the surface toward the top. Even better yet, its back molds to remain horizontal to gravity, allowing Gazey and you to continue on your shoddy construction.[/i]
- Maria 'Habitat' Violet -FATES DESCISION - CRYSTAL BIRDS - 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
7You gather a small handful of the greenish-cyan crystals that have dotted the land, grown from their parent Time Crystals of Clesydros's composition. In of themselves they bear a certain beauty, more so as the silvered moonlight filters through their surfaces, dancing across each crevice and angle. It is a beauty not unlike the kind you see the great insects and plants of the home you'd left behind for this unmoving world. You close in your palms around the crystals, and to them blow a single full breath of air, gently therein. The Magicks take hold, as you reveal the crystals, they've morphed into little angular robins that gaze about within new found curiosity. From your hands, the little birds take flight over the Island, perching and pecking at the crops that time grows in reverse. They'll do just fine, helping to spread the growth of Clesydros's experiments across the land. The Crystallivore Robins will maintain their exact small population provided no external force acts upon them, flitting about low to the ground, eating their fill and spreading the Time Crystals, and perhaps even beyond the confines of this isle.
- Clesydros -FATES DESCISION - TIMECRYSTAL BASED HUMANOIDS - 1d10 + 1 (The First Slate) =
11!Maria does well, just as you'd expect by now of course. Her incredible power to give life to whatever she chooses with little more than a breath and a few gentle words is one that is most beauteous and frightening all the same. Once again you can't help but feel trepidation for the future if indeed you must all slaughter one another by the end of this sojurn. The mighty Kruovios do as they are commanded, hefting hunks of growing crystals to scattered them about the land, it's almost laughable that such perfect creations, each one worth a kingdom and a half in the old world, are seen relagated to little more than farmers. But, you're oft' the practical sort more so than being prone to whimsy.
While away from Maria, her new birds, and the Kruovios toiling in the fields, you set upon a strong growth and bend your will upon it. Through the infinite march of time, your spell achoes once more, seeing still nothing but endless wasteland in the ancient past, as continents break apart and civilizations are buried under dust and nothingness. Again through that reverse time, you gather and condense all manner of dust and ash that is so prevelant here, forming up fine statues, modeled through memeories as they subconsciously flutter through your mind. Before you realize it Clesydros, there standing as they always have been are the Kosmites. A numerable score of the perfectly shaped angular beings, resembling the form of man, bearing tails and pointed limbs. All this time here they were waiting for this moment, for their master to realize their existence.Population - Numerous
Stature - Average Humanoid
Notes: On Turn Seven, the Kosmites were created using the same process as the time crystals by Clesydros. They are crystalline humanoids bearing tails to keep their balance upon sharp pointed limbs.
Wounds - 2/2
Might - 2
Skill - 3
Hardiness - 2
Willpower - 0
MINDLESS: These creatures bear no mind, nor will of their own. They cannot think for themselves and respond only to their creators rudimentary commands. Magicks affecting the mind will automatically fail against them.
REVERSE-TIME REGENERATION: Born of the same material as Time Crystals, these creatures bodies are constantly reiterating into the past and echoing back to the present. In effect, they can regenerate from surprising wounds provided the past remains on their side.
- Dr. Unpleasant - &
- Yellow Pixel -FATES COLLIDE! - DR. UNPLEASANT VS. YELLOW PIXEL - Dr. Unpleasant reanimation -- 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
7Yellow Pixel, enchanting the banana castle -- 1d10 + 1 (Secondary Aspect) =
4The most scornful doctor's is soured even more as the rain patters and pitters off his cloak, had the fates not taken his side just earlier, than most all his work thus far would have been for naught. And there is nothing, absolutely nothing more frustrating, more malice buidling than losing ample progress on a moments notice. All those negative feelings give way to a surge of negative energy crackling off Dr. Unpleasant's fingertips, as he stands there in the valley dug out by his earlier spell, now turning to mud, he affixes all his hate upon that disgustingly happy castle to the east. A surge of dark magicks seep into the earth as his dispisal, and the dark cloaked man vanishes into the uncovered mountain after his servants.
The Yellow Pixely one can feel it all coming on at once, being composed entirely of one part pixel and one part happiness, the mystic is intrinscly opposed to the nasty stuff that makes up his foe to the west. The stench of death magicks waft up from the lower levels, the .squirrels are the first to take notice, scurrying up to the highest floors where you float, bananas still in their little hands. Clearly frightened. Had you a face, it would be contorted into a most serious expression, and so you weave a great enchantment of pure goodness about the Banana Castle, attempting to permeate every two-dimensional brick with pure joy. However. . . The deepest pits of despair do not wash away, rather the feeling grows, your enchantment wasn't enough! Though the magick seems to have slowed the advance of your foe's spell, even so, a number of hands, claws, and hooves of the perserved bony dead dig themselves through the gaps in the brickwork at the bottom most level. There, a vertile hoard has begun to emerge, their soul purpose; destroying all that is good and happy amdist this castle!Population - Numerous
Stature - Varies from humanoids to beasts.
Notes: In retaliation for Yellow Pixel raining on their parade, Dr. Unpleasant raised all manner of skeletal and perserved corpses from deep below the earth to dig into the Banana Castle and destroy it. These creatures are various undead with destruction as their sole purpose.
Wounds - 1/1
Might - 2
Skill - 1
Hardiness - 3
Willpower - 0
MINDLESS: These creatures bear no mind, nor will of their own. They cannot think for themselves and respond only to their creators rudimentary commands. Magicks affecting the mind will automatically fail against them.
- Shapless Apparition -FATES DESCISION - GROWING EVEN MORE - 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
5Again, again, more and more. The Shapeless Apparition splits itself deep now under the earth of the west. Every new node is like another lifeline empowering and emboldening the strange and alien being far beyond the comprehension of the many mystics now engaged with one another. The longer that the days go by, only the larger your formless body becomes. With such a swelling mass, and the perfect plan, you cannot even begin to worry about those whom you share this silent world with, even as the cogs of war and destruction begin to turn across it. In your mind, there are no beings fit to inherit creation aside from yourself. To that end, you continue to absorb the land here, slowly, yet most assuredly.
(( I'm definitely running out of ways to restate this, hahaha. There's only so much that can happen burrowed underground and eating dirt for seven turns. Though it's probably mostly on me unable to come up with anything particularly interesting to happen there. I'll try better on that moving forward. ))
(( As always, great turns everyone, I'm really enjoying the way that things are progressing and definitely want to see it to the end however inplausable that is. With that said, forgive the delays this time around, my weekend was quite busy and for a number of reasons I couldn't easily post in my spare time. ))
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Topic: The Cosmic Throne: A Magic Battle Royale -- TURN 14 (Read 26590 times)