Sorry guys. Can't use the internet on the Sunday - is a rule. Turn up in a few hours, once I've written it.
Don't worry Strife, I won't abandon this easy.
Now might be a good time to point out the most important feature of the game - I'm a nice GM. I know intricately how the world works, and will always twist things to work in your favour. However, sometimes there's a limit, and I will obey your turns to the letter.
What I mean will become apparent shortly...
EDIT: Turns up! Post your actions, keep in mind they should be roughly a day long. I'll try to add more of the interactivity from the last turn in the next turn, was quite busy the last few days.
Also, I'm giving up on Therianthrope, too unwieldy. Just call 'em Shapers. That was the original name, and I have no idea why I changed it.
Also, Fortis, post turns! Otherwise I just turn you into a plot advancer.
SANCTUARY DAY 3: CREATION:Thom:
Feelingly distinctly sore after another day's tuition (he didn't know who the Master had conned, but it was working), Thom decided he'd like another line of defence, especially since this one seemed to require bleeding all over the place. He'd like some real weaponry, and for that, he'd need to go a-hunting.
"How much?"
"1 Sun"
"Deal"
That had been the cheapest he'd seen them on offer, even if they were a bit tatty-looking. Authentic shadeskin robes, plus some extra battle-wear for free. He'd already picked up three blood vials (someone else's blood is always better than your own) and a basic slasher, and now he was running low on funds. Still, that should be enough to keep him out of any minor trouble, and it might even come in handy for tomorrow's tuition... if he could even handle attending. Master's orders or no, Thom's bones REALLY ached.
You learn how to summon Spectres - They appear to be cloaked, unnaturally thin and tall humans, though with a strange whiplike tail. However, when they unfurl their cloak, they reveal themselves to be merely paper-thin silhouettes, capable of engulfing and destroying any unfortunate enough to be caught by them.
You also gain Shadeskin armour, and similar battle apparel, this increases your powers somewhat (both stamina, strength etc, though only slightly, as well as magical) as well as protecting from minor shadow attacks.
You also gain three blood vials, good for one major summoning each. Think of them as rechargeable batteries.
Finally, you get your slasher. I'll assume that you somehow have a basic competence with it.
Martin:
Today had been a long day. Tutoring had begun at near dawn, with nearly no breaks. When Art (that was the tutor's name) said it was a crash course, he meant it. Still, Martin was certainly learning. Today had been less of a focus on obvious external modifications, but subtler internal ones - Art's specialty.
Martin had a newfound strength and stamina, as well as allround increases in agility and speed. By Shaper standards he was still little more than a runt, but he was certainly improving, boosted by massive restructuring of his vital systems, including respiratory, circulatory and nervous systems.
None of it new of course - all old innovations recorded in the biological library of the Shaper Gardens, but still far superior to the human body. The only break from Shaping had come at noon, when Art had taken him to see the Creators face off in a battle to see who was superior. Any could enter, though Shapers were of course the crowd favourites.
One battle in particular had been very interesting - one between a Shaper and an Artificier. The Artificier had won by a landslide, but had vanished shortly after. Very weird, and Art refused to discuss it. After all, 'Training's all that matters right now'. So train he did - though the day was nearly over, and he'd be returning to bed soon. Apparently, Art would be offering him an interesting choice tomorrow...
Exactly what it says on the tin - general boosts to all physical functions, and knowledge of how to further improve those functions with study. You're now a reasonably capable, if inexperienced, fighter.
Trap:
Ruminating on the fate of the Warpers, Trap takes it upon himself to order some food for the trip. But where to start?
Seemingly ordinary, if somewhat modified, food for the general populace, then extremely modified, almost unrecognisable food for Shapers and rare, bloodied (or just plain blood) meats for Ferals. Confounded, Trap walked through the markets, before giving up and buying himself a snack. He was pretty sure someone would have him sorted anyway - what kind of nutter would expect them to bring their own food on an expedition?
Speaking of which, he should probably try to find out about the expedition, before any more time was wasted. Apart from that crazy kid/ghost/hallucination, he had no information whatsoever. Time to try and find the boss...
Two hours later, and Trap was beat. His feet were numb, his legs ached, and his throat was parched. Water was free, luckily, but information was not. Rubbing his dry eyes, Trap squinted down a random street. There appeared to be a fight between two people, though he couldn't hear what they were arguing about. Suddenly, one of them punched the other, doubling him over, and sprinted off. Trap could only catch a glance of his face, but what he saw troubled him. It was somehow wrong... and then the man was off, moving faster than Trap thought should be possible.
Running over to the injured man, who introduced himself as Joseph, Trap helped him up - at least he appeared to be unwounded. Still wheezing, Joseph thanked him and asked how he could repay the kindness. Realising he was still short on information, Trap asked the question, and was amazed when an answer came quickly - Joseph had apparently been approached by the same people, though he'd turned them down. Trap waited until he was sure Joseph was ok before heading off to find the 'recruiter'.
You find the recruiter, though whether or not you agree is still up to you. You also get access to more technical details about the expedition, such as the number of guards (roughly 15 so far), number of academics (5), supplies (plenty) and probable route (as safe as possible, though with minor risk of bandits and shadows on the one side, and monsters and Tech-Heads on the other).
Theo:
He had no idea what day it was, what time it was, or even where he was. He should've known killing that scaly was a bad plan. The guards hadn't taken kindly to it, at least, 'specially when they had to recover at least, at they'd put him in this solitary cell to prevent him 'killing off the rest of our workers'.
No light at all, so even his brilliant eyes couldn't see. Only a few metres square, forced to pace back and forth if he wanted to run. He'd tried gnawing on the bars, but the damn Shapers had rigged them to be harder than steel, while resisting the acid his fangs secreted. He was trapped, and if there's anything a Feral hates, it's being closed in. After a while, the nightmares came, though he pushed them away. He would not be brought low by fear. He would make them pay for doing this to him.
The beginnings of a new idea were forming in his mind. He'd been fed for today, but they'd have to feed him again tomorrow...
You scheme. Escape attempt (probably successful) and subsequent rampage next turn, unless you want things otherwise.
Cullos:
He needed more weaponry. The slasher was good, but he needed MORE. A lot more. Armour wouldn't go amiss either.
So decided, Cullos approached the head guard.
"Do you know where I could find, or buy, some more weapons?
"Whatcha be needin' more weapons for? Aren't ours good enough for ya?"
"No, no, I just believe it's better to be safe than sorry - or as I was taught, better for them to be dead than you"
"That's true enough. Tell me what'cha looking for, and I'll see if I can help"
"Nothing much. Just... two short swords, a bunch of throwing knives, and a bow."
"...Are you crazy? What on earth would you want those for? I can understand if you were collecting them, but for fighting!?
Look, there's a reason we don't use 'em. If they worked, we would. A couple hundred of dead guards ago, we figured slashers worked best, and we've been changing and perfecting the design to suit our foes for the past 20 years."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I want those weapons. I feel more... comfortable, fighting with them"
"Comfortable? HAH! Doubt you'll even be able to run under all that junk, much less fight. But still, each to his own. Talk to Eighteen, I'll give you the directions. He might have some stuff. Mind, it won't be cheap, but it will be good."
10 minutes later, Cullos approached the stall he'd been directed to. It was owned by a rather nondescript, youngish male, probably somewhere in his mid twenties.
"I heard you were looking for some rather... unusual weaponry"
"I'm looking for some weapons. I wouldn't call them unusual though"
Eighteen grinned, before throwing back a cloth and revealing two magnificent short swords, as well as a strangely mechanical looking crossbow.
"The swords are hand carved, back from before the Change. A Shaper owned them, strengthened them, fought with them. Very strong, very historical, will enhance your strength. Two units.. each.
The bow is my own design. Launches with enough force to penetrate bone, and if you are lucky, you may even kill a Feral, though only with the first shot. 12 bolts, an automatic reloading and launching system, roughly 5 seconds between a shot. If nothing else, good for surprise and hunting. 3 units.
So, will you buy?"
Making a quick excuse, Cullos headed off. If he remembered correctly, that added up to seven month's wages, all up. He had nowhere near that kind of cash. Wandering back to the guardhouse, Cullos absent mindedly wondered where he'd get the cash. Til then, he'd train some more with the slasher.
I did warn you, but it's possible. Just come up with a passable way to get a large chunk of money in a day, and I'll let you have 'em. Just cause I'm nice, armour will be provided free of charge next turn, no matter your decision.
Joseph:
Blearily, Joseph massaged his aching head. The day had been going so well too, right up until the Link had headed for the ampitheatre. He'd followed naturally, though not too close. All those minds in one place made his eye twitch, not to mention it gave him a killer headache.
It had happened about halfway through the trials. He'd felt a wave of surprise, and then commendation from the audience. Guarded as he was, it still nearly knocked him over. Then, without any warning, the mood changed to confusion. Still reeling, Joseph couldn't even react as a young competitor rushed past him, closely followed by a lithe wireframe figure.
He didn't need to be an Empath to see the fear on the teen's face, and he could guess the source. If what he was chasing really was a Link, and this Artificier was an escapee, the Link would stop at nothing to recapture him.
So prepared, Joseph was only marginally surprised when the Link came rushing towards him. Up close, he was even more horrifying - his mind reeked of death and cold hatred, and his eyes were blank and mindless. He knew what he had to do.
"Stop, in the name of the Orders"
"What for, may I ask? I simply wish to inform that competitor that I was most... impressed with his performance."
The Link's voice was emotionless, expressionless, hard and scientific. The voice of pure reason, and the voice of death.
"I doubt it. I repeat, stop in the name of the Orders, Link."
That was the wrong move, in hindsight. The Link had snarled, and punched him. Winded, unable to control that alien mind, Joseph could only gasp for air as the Link ran off in pursuit of his prey. Luckily, a Warper named Trap was nearby, and helped him recover. Thanking him, and telling him where to find the expedition leader (what a small world, he reflected to himself), Joseph retired to his dormitory. His head ached, his gut ached, his BRAIN ached, and he'd still have to try and hunt down that blighter the next day. What fun.
You meet Trap. You also alert the Link of your presence and get subseqently beat down. Any tactics, plans, or outright new ideas for next turn?
The Creator trial in question, which both the Link and Martin observed.
The Sanctuary Festival, Day 3 - Creation:
42 was tired of running. It seemed like that's all he'd been doing lately; but the end was finally in sight. He'd made it to Sanctuary a little under a week ago, and he'd been momentarily stymied. His plans hadn't gone beyond making it to safety, and once he had, he was at a loss. No money, no food, nothing to his name but his backpack and the clothes on his back. Then, as his eyes had settled upon a poster, the solution came to him.
The Sanctuary Festival - a perfect way for him to make money, or at the least get some recognition and a job. The only problem was the attention it would undoubtedly attract, but he'd find a way around that, after all, those damn slavers wouldn't dare chase him here. No, he was safe now, he was sure of it.
Now the day had finally come. The third day of the festival the day of creation. Without a word, 42 filed into the amphitheatre with the rest of the hopefuls. Most of them had the look of the Shapers, but there were a few oddballs here and there. 42 could breathe easy he fit right in. Perhaps he relaxed a bit too much though when asked for his name by the official, his reply was automatic.
Scavenger number 42, family 15, workparty 997, sir.
It was the wrong thing to say now everyone was looking at him. Trying not to sink into his own boots, he quickly cut off the official's forthcoming question.
Just call me 42.
Bemused, the official waved him through, while briefly explaining the rules. To save time, they would be heading out in pairs, trying to out-do their partner. 42's partner would be the Shaper over there Trent.
Impatiently, 42 waited. He didn't even glance at his partner he was unimportant. Now he was here, all he wanted was to be away from all these people a learned reaction, he supposed. He fidgeted with his backpack, opening it, looking inside, and shutting it again. He hated waiting.
And suddenly, it was his turn and the other's, of course. Together, they walked out, blinking blearily as they emerged into the sunlight. The commentator was saying something, but it was lost on 42. He felt he was drowning in the sea of faces around him. There were so many! With, an effort, he wrenched his gaze away, and nodded at Trent he could go first.
Trent started with something designed to woo the audience. Swaggering, he withdrew something from a pocket, and tossed it into the air. A murmur of approval rippled through the stands as the seed germinated, sprouted, and burst into colourful life, shedding petals as it grew. At the apex of the throw, it seemed to almost hover, a rose bush defying gravity. But, as it fell, it withered again, as fast as it had grown. When it finally landed back in Trent's palm, it was, again, just a seed.
42 was not about to be outdone. While Trent had been showing off, he'd been preparing. He'd dumped the contents of his bag onto the ground, a seemingly chaotic tangle of metal strands, spokes and other mechanisms. When he saw Tent had finished, he stood up. Reaching out, he felt the familiar mechanics of his creation with his mind. He'd spent 2 years collecting the materials, and another year assembling it. But it had been worth it. With this, he'd escaped slavery, had crossed the Demon's Maw unscathed, and now he was about to show Trent what an Artificer could do.
Without a word, the tangle of metal quivered. Then, almost eagerly, it seemed to jump into the air. When it landed, it was a glittering steel sphere, almost as large in diameter as 42 himself. Then, clanking, it began to roll, faster and faster, until the spokes of its frame seemed to blur into a solid surface. Whipping up dust, it sped around the amphitheatre, before trundling back to its master's hand. Trent's turn.
The Shaper scowled he wasn't feeling so confident now. Muttering under his breath, he scattered a handful of seed on the ground. In moments, the Stadium burst into frenzied life shrubs and trees of all shapes and sizes sprouted, attended to by a buzzing mass of insects and delicate birds. Within minutes, the amphitheatre was transformed into a beautiful garden, teeming with life. It was almost with regret that he banished his creation, the flora and fauna transforming back into the seeds from whence they'd came. 42's turn.
Nodding his appreciation, 42 waved to the crowd. As he waved, the ball beside him changed yet again. Folding into itself, it collapsed, before springing back again a wireframe person! Grinning, he shook its hand. Hearing the audience cheer, he proceeded to perform ever more acrobatic feats with his double it proved itself more than capable of doing anything he could, and more. When he sensed the audience finally beginning to tire of this new trick, he gestured at the double, which sat down, looking intently at Trent. His turn.
Trent was tired now. He honestly hadn't expected to have to do much more than this, but he still had one last trick. Sombrely, he withdrew the final seed from his pouch, a seed much larger than the rest. Bending down, he buried it in the dirt, stood back, and began to shape. At first, it seemed nothing had happened. But then, the ground began to shake.
With a rumble, a massive tree burst out of the ground, its many trunks intertwined into one great pillar. It rose and rose, seemingly touching the clouds, dominating the centre of the amphitheatre. Its gnarled branches reached out above the spectators' heads, its foliage blocking out the sun. It was truly momentous, truly awe-inspiring. Then, as the breeze caught the leaves, Trent revealed his final trick, as the tree began to sing.
Trent allowed the haunting tune to continue for a few minutes, before finally withering the tree. Spent, but satisfied, he nodded smugly at 42. Nothing could beat that. He'd all but won. Still, 42 was allowed one last shot. Let him try.
42 was impressed. He'd underestimated this Shaper that would be a hard act to follow. But he could - scaled down, of course. Yet again, his creation collapsed into an ungainly pile of metal. But this time, it didn't spring up immediately, instead writhing on the ground like a living thing. When it finally began to rise again, it did so slowly, each spoke locking into place with an inhuman precision. As the seconds passed, its shape began to take form a metallic tree, only about a metre high, but intricately designed. Not a single bladed leaf was misplaced, each angled to catch the light in such a way that the whole thing seemed to be ablaze. The whole thing gave the impression of a gnarled old oak, only the colour and the reflection revealing its true nature. Then, the tree locked in place by steel roots, the leaves began to stir, and the tinkle of chimes filled the air.
The clapping started slow at first, but soon grew to thunderous applause. Such a thing was unheard of, and so worthy of praise. 42 had most definitely won this match at least. Revelling in their adoration, he cast his gaze across the crowd and stopped, dumbfounded. He knew those eyes eyes that seemed to suck the soul out of you. The previous joy of victory was gone, stolen by a sudden rush of sickly fear. As he began to run, his creation already at his side, the same thought occupied his mind, repeated in an endless loop:
I've been found!
TURN COMPLETE! Post some actions.
Also, wow, I didn't realise how much I write for this. Unfortunately, it doesn't count for English homework...
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Topic: Changing Lands - A Roleplaying Epic! (Read 13060 times)