TURN TWOHere, they play as creators,
Ashes, rocks, abyss in their image,
Practicing at their would-be role,
Mirrors of the first-borne God.
- Amon -Amon waves off the creature. “Go do something useful and I might give you a treat! Or, you could do whatever you want. I care not. You won’t be getting that treat though!” Amon smiles. His first playmate, Albeit a mostly unintelligent one. It’s a work in progress.
Something useful. . .FATE'S DESCISION - SOMETHING USEFUL - 1d10 + 5 (Might) =
13!The words are meaningless off the tongue of the viper in those purple robes. They break upon the Mystic's creation as water on rock, seeding the slightest, most imperceptible crack in its being. The Beast of Basalt cannot reason with these words, and yet still it acts upon them. The creature shudders, half-way submerged in the quiet sea, and there its form changes, the altering power of chaos imbued upon it. The stone shifts and four great limbs, bearing three joints crackle from the creature's structure, two of which beach themselves on the small shore in which Amon stands. With power and intent, the beast begins paddling like mad, cracking the remnants of the isle from the bedrock and setting it free. The creature moves its dormant other half further out, toward the direction of the Throne, which beckons all life.
“Now, done to business!”
Amon takes some of the stone from the Beast of Basalt and tries to create his own race. He imbues the stone with the concept of Flesh, Mind and assimilation. Plus a little sprinkle of Divine out of curiosity.
Divinity. . ?
What would you know of Divinity?FATE'S DESCISION - IMBUING STONE WITH FLESH - - 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
8FATE'S DESCISION - IMBUING STONE WITH MIND - - 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
3FATE'S DESCISION - IMBUING STONE WITH ASSIMILATION - - 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
4Perhaps unsatisfied with your first work of new 'life' in this desolate domain, you gather what volcanic creature that you can, levitating all manner of the loose dark basalt that makes up its being. In your mystical grasp, as the stones float before you they appear to ungualte, expanding then contracting at a paceless rate, unstable as they are you bend your mind within them much like you'd done with the island before. With the first words of flesh the rocks burble and gurgle the stone warping as if a thousand maggots slunk beneath the skin. Blood begins to seep from their pours, sullying the ground beneath your feet. Then, erupting from the wounds and wrapping the stones is a thick layer of muscle, then at last a dark gray skin.
All at once, a hairline fracture cuts across each of the orbs of flesh, and grows. From therein each of the creature's open a single pus-filled eye takes in its first motes of light, and bears witness to their father. Though, you do not get the feeling that this things garner any significance from it. Last of note; as the eye's gaze upon your brilliant coat of royal purple, their strange stoneskin seems to take on that colour.
You release the orbs from your mystic grip, perhaps you've a chuckle for their strange life. With a few thuds and a few bounces, the creatures roll about on the back of the moving island and the Beast of Basalt like skittering little ticks. Some fall into the sea with little purpose, others continue to curiously gaze up at you. Only time will tell how the chaotic nature of their being, having been cloven from the Basalt one, will evolve their forms.Population - Many
Statue - Basketball Sized
Notes: Created by Amon on Turn One, the Gazelings are handpicked stones from the back of the Beast of Basalt. Granted a mockery of life in the forms of Flesh, Mind, and Assimilation, though the later two concepts did not take as strongly. Their main form of locomotion is quickly rolling about, and anything they focus upon they'll alter their being towards, like that of chamelons.
Wounds 1/1
Might - 0
Skill - 0
Hardiness - 3
Willpower - 2
CHAOTIC: There's no telling when this creature might do the unexpected. It's loyalty is difficult to maintain.
ANIMALISTIC: This creature bears the intelligence of a common beast, and often acts on instinct. However, it may learn to obey a master.
CHAMELEONIC STAR: Should this creature focus its gaze upon a certain image long enough, it begins to mimic the concepts therein. Though perhaps on a simpler side that the original.
- Dr. Unpleasant -"They can't question me or even talk at all, they're perfect!"
Now lead my Ashen Idols to an area of exposed stone and forum the stone into swords, spears, armour, and shields.
FATE'S DESCISION - AN ARMORY OF STONE - 1d10 + 1 (Secondary Aspect) + 2 (Skill) =
5Dutiously the ashen humans follow their black-coated master without a second thought, nor a first to be fair. You shepard their nascent bodies nearly to the bottom end of this island, where something of hill rises into what mayhaps was once a caldera. Though even it has been eroded by time. Still, you care not, for your eyes marvel somewhat at sheets of obsidian and dacite, perfect for your plots. With a whipping of your fingers, you extrude the old volcanic dacite into rudimentary shapes, formed to the replica bodies of the Idols. Essentially, you coat them in a laquer of stone as it were. Though this armour is heavy, and may impede their maneuverability, it will no doubt fend attacks of similar make.
Then from the stone you hew hilts and poles, then shred bits of the mesmeric dark obsidian into their blades and spear-tips. You are no master smith by any means, but these armaments will do for now. The Ashen Idols follow your commands religiously, arming themselves with their new tools. To some extent you cannot wait to see how effective they'll be, all things considered from the lack of materials at your disposal, these could be a force to reckon with.
You may even have your chance. . . During your mystic acts of creation, something caught your eye. Something yellow. At first it could have been a trick of the light, but then, focusing on it, your realized something impossibly thin was keeping watch over you. With a few paces to one side, the full view of this creature comes through; a small being, no larger than a ferret sitting perched upon a stone, built from miniscule squares of yellow, and nothing more. It takes the shape of squirrel. Just as you take stock of this, another appears beside it, chasing the first away as they dash off into the distance, playing games of tag. The sight sickens you. But now it is certain, another mystic must be on this isle.Population - Numerous
Stature - Average Humanoid
Notes: Perfectly sculpted men of ash and soot. While they are little more than puppets, their danger and use is made certain in large enough numbers. Given a false life by Dr. Unpleasant on Turn Zero. They bear arms and armour of obsidian and dacite.
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 creator's rudimentary commands. Magicks affecting the mind will automatically fail against them.
WATER SOLUBLE: These creatures' construction is disrupted by sufficient enough water.
LIFELESS FORM: This creature cannot regenerate lost wounds without great magicks set to do so, even then the process is tricky.
EQUIPMENT: These creatures are equipped with heavy armaments of stone that may slow them down, however under durress will often protect them from physical wounds 30% of the time. Their swords and spears of obsidian are incredibly sharp, though somewhat brittle, no doubt they can rend flesh and cloth with ease.
- Clesydros -
By using magic of spatial manipulation, i shall gather the substrate of this place, compress it as much as possible to form it into beings of crystal and then imbue them with life."
"Beings of crystal will be the perfect ones to serve me in this desolate land. Intentionally mindless, formed of inorganic material thus requiring no sustenance and being largely immune to negative effects of time... After all, diamonds are forever!" his monologue ending with a bout of raucous laughter.
FATE'S DESCISION - BODIES OF CRYSTAL - 1d10 + 1 (Secondary Aspect) + 5 (Skill) + 1 (The First Slate) =
16!!FATE'S DESCISION - IMBUING LIFE - 1d10 + 1 (The First Slate) =
3The force and passage of time required to shape the burnt out wastes of this world into something extent and brilliant again would no doubt be beyond the capability of any ordinary mage, even beyond the archmagus of many worlds and times. Here however, in this place, on this isle, is perhaps the one mortal who can bear such power with abandon. One strong flourish of the arm is all it takes to gather up the loose firmament of this world, in doing so you practically dust off the rocky island completely, leaving only the solid bed blinded now after having spent ages beneath the sands.
One mote into the next, and then another, with the utmost perscision you crush ash within ash and soot upon soot, forming a powerful latticed bond atom by atom. Even with your great skill in this regard, it is no easy feat. In one arm you cradle the heavy slate that bore the words of the Creator upon it, while the other's fingers struggled and buckled under the force they emitted, painstakingly arranging each molecule in a fine order. Sweat beads down your brow, a vein nearly bursts in your tempal, but the fruits of your labour are more than worth a mere struggle. With your mystic ordeal complete, before you now stand a handful of figures, halfway larger than the average man, and broad to boot. Their sturdiness is a testament to the colourless crystalline structure you've slaved away to perfect, only this time, empowered by the Slate of Creation, you've gone far beyond peddling diamonds for a fancy meal and rest. These are true homunculi of diamond-like body.
With much of your will spent, and just as you say, lacking speciality, you weild the Slate once more above your head in both hands. And through it, filter the starlight of its text into the beings, where specular color erupts out abaft and floods their beings. The first movements are slow, lacking method, children learning to walk. . . Indeed you feel perhaps that as well composed as they are these creatures will likely require your influence or prescese to be aught of use. Not only mindless, but lacking even the spark of action. Still, they are most handy puppets, should you bear the strings. To they, you grant the name Kruovios.Population - Small
Stature - Halfway larger than the average human.
Notes: Formed on Turn One by Clesydros by compacting all the dust and ashes encompassing a small island into humanoid form. They bear little will of their own, and likely could not act without a mystic's influence, but are extremely tough thanks to their bodies which are composed entirely of colourless crystal.
Wounds 5/5
Might - 4
Skill - 0
Hardiness - 6
Willpower - 0
MINDLESS: These creatures bear no mind, nor will of their own. They cannot think for themselves and respond only to their creator's rudimentary commands. Magicks affecting the mind will automatically fail against them.
LIFELESS FORM: This creature cannot regenerate lost wounds without great magicks set to do so, even then the process is tricky.
- ? -As ? sits upon a grim throne within the Keep of Apathy, they think of the Mystic Magicks being wielded elsewhere.
To the northwest, and southwest. Two of my foes gather. Hmm...
Getting up after a lot of introspection, she travels to a balcony, overlooking the Abyss. Here she lets her other sinces fade, staring into it. And as she does, it stares back, and visions of the world it sees are shown. Of what hope remains in the Mystics afar.
[Scry into the Abyss]
FATE'S DESCISION - SCRYING ON MARIA - 1d10 + 1 (Willpower) - 2 (Target's Willpower) =
9FATE'S DESCISION - SCRYING ON DR UNPLEASANT - 1d10 + 1 (Willpower) - 4 (Target's Willpower) =
3FATE'S DESCISION - SCRYING ON AMON - 1d10 + 1 (Willpower) - 5 (Target's Willpower) =
1FATE'S DESCISION - SCRYING ON CLESYDROS - 1d10 + 1 (Willpower) - 2 (Target's Willpower) =
3FATE'S DESCISION - SCRYING ON YELLOW PIXEL - 1d10 + 1 (Willpower) - 2 (Target's Willpower) =
5FATE'S DESCISION - SCRYING ON THE FORMLESS APPARITION - 1d10 + 1 (Willpower) - 4 (Target's Willpower) =
1The strangeness that is the abyss below, that which is outside the Creator of Creator's purview, that which is anathema to creation, what keeps it from seeping into this place is unknown. . . The world that once birthed you was subsumed by it, leaving your existence little more than a mournful despair. Once, powers rivaling any son or daughter of the Creator's were yours to wield, now a husk of yourself.
From atop one of many outcroppings across the strange black keep your gaze permeates the dark, many visions are shown to you from that unknowable black well. Ephemeral sights that constantly twirl amidst one another, melding first into colour, teal, black, then yellow are shown to you. The first bears a glowing stone that blinds your bleak eyes, the next erects the first of many pieces for this game, and sight of the last sends a shockwave that disrupts the sombre atmosphere with its pure bliss. Each of these mixing colours corespond to faces you bore witness to at the beginning, surrounding the vieled throne. The three of them now, you feel are most certainly to the southwest, perhaps already clashing.
But more so than the rest is a vibrant green, its quaint nature nearly drags you into the pit again. But you refocus that gaze. There, just beyond the shore, just beyond one of the void's verminous dens you see her. A wound enshrouded by life. Roots have taken seed in this lifeless place, grass grows beneath her bare feet, the expression on her face is not one of apathy, and yet tells a tale that she bears no dire concern for this struggle. As she weaves her magicks of life, you are certain that you could find her from here, should you wish.
Just as your perception returns to you, a figure you are certain was not beside you is now seen. A shadowy facsimile of someone who once was, lost as spirits often are amidst the lightless void. She is clad in shadows that once bespoke regal armour, and her face of fair complexion when not obscurred by the stuff of the abyss. Sitting, both arms wrapped tightly around her knees as they are brought to her chest, she barely has a will left in her eyes, yet still they turn to you. "Am I dead. . ?" A near whisper, "Are you. . . Are you the Lord on High?" That voice of her stammers, its purgatory amidst the void and journey through these Apathetic halls had nearly sapped everything from her.
- Maria 'Habitat' Violet -Try transferring nutrients from the least healthy plants to the most healthy plants, causing them to grow taller, also cause it to rain to help with the plant growing
My hope is that if the grass is tall enough, if someone ends up here, finding me would be difficult
FATE'S DESCISION - TRANSFER NUTRIENTS - 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
12!FATE'S DESCISION - RAINFALL - 1d10 + 1 (Secondary Aspect) =
5 It is nature's way, there are times when the weak must give up their energy to sustain the strong. Being as attuned to the order of life as you are Maria, this notion is embedded into your soul, there is no questioning it. Seeing that this land is well and truly devoid of the elements of life, you weave your magicks to that point.
Each flick of your wrist, and movements of your fingers drought the weak grasses on the outskirts of the island, turning beige as droplets and vapors are sapped from their bodies and sprnkled in the center of the field. This goes on for some time as the Red Giant above wanes in power, effectively shrinking the field that had overtaken much of the sandy island. However, the transfer of life, one to another, worked perfectly, for not only did the grasses in the center take on a strong dark hue, and glistened with wetness, but they grew tall and strong indeed.
With the movements of water and air as you weave your spells, the first clouds this land has seen in many days begin to form above your island, full and ready to burst. Their rains are gentle upon your skin, and gentler still across the earth below, yet they do their job. The blades' roots run deep, and deeper still, allowing the grass to eclipse you in heigh quickly, and even beyond that. A blade here or there even grows to the stature of small trees. It's a cozy feeling they present, one of safety, and familiarity,
- Yellow Pixel -"Hooray! I have created friends of my own essence, but it is just a beginning!"
"I shall now overlay the island I am on with pixel grass and plant pixelated banana trees all over! Thus, as good little pixy critters, the yellow squirrels shall sustain themselves with pixel bananas and scatter their peels everywhere, so no walking beings shall ever be able to ambulate on this insular land without slipping on them and falling!
"It'll be so fun to see! Teeheeheeheehee!"
FATE'S DESCISION - PIXELATED FORESTRY - 1d10 + 2 (Primary Aspect) =
8With another floruish of colour and two-dimensional magicks, your strange body again erupts, this time sowing countless seeds across your corner of the island. It seems the volcanic ash of this place is the perfect substrate for growth too, as couple with your spell, a bed of yellow-green grass is cast awash about the land. And therefrom, one, two, three and a handful more trees spring alongside the thin blades.
In time, the trees will be the perfect source of shelter and food for your happy-go-lucky .squirrels! Even now as they frolic and play amidst the grasses they scurry up and around the trees you've so delicately planted. It's by far no great sweeping biome, but it's a start. After a little bit more time passes and you take in the beauty of your creation, only visible front on of course, a pair of rambunctious little .squirrels climb atop your boxy body. They appear terrified of something. Though what you're unsure, the feeling of magick not your own is still present to the west, stronger than before even.
- The Formless Apparition - You remain dormant, much like the struggle this world will soon face.
(( Regarding Magmacube, I'm going to assume they either are too busy to take their turns, or perhaps lacking interest. Either way, we'll be moving forward at the speed of business. Providing they do not take any actions for the next few turns, we'll take care of The Formless Apparitions existence. Hope you guy's enjoy this turn and onward! ))
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Topic: The Cosmic Throne: A Magic Battle Royale -- TURN 14 (Read 26484 times)