Virtuoso Vanquish: Meizarae (2018)

[The Skald]

This is the topic for the mass interaction involving a direct conflict with Meizarae, Virtuoso of Misery.

• There is a Dice Roller function on the forum! Unfortunately you will not know your results until you post, so if your post relies on results, it is OKAY to make a post of JUST the roll and then proceed with your own. Editing a post with a roll attached will have this beautiful warning stamped on it saying its been tampered with It's just an auto response, whether you touched the roll or not.
  
• D20 will be the dice standard. The difference between the attack and defense rolls will be used to subtract from the Virtuoso's health.
• You may declare a proficiency or lack thereof in your rolls (neg/pos 1) within reason. Be prepared to explain.
• Post Order will be followed unless a player fails to post within 12hrs. This is a short time frame, but the scope of this will DRAG if we take much longer.
• • That being said, if your character becomes indisposed, please state in a bright font "SKIP NEXT TURN" or something to that effect even if you mention it descriptively. This is just so we can have our 'doh!' moments a little less

   

• Potential badges: Virtuoso Vanquisher (if won), Lucky/Unlucky, Story Interrupted

For easy reference: Meizarae's special rolls are as follows.

If you are in her direct area (1 room) then you will feel the full effect of her aura (D100).  A 1 or a 100 will kill your character by suicide. Get creative and have fun with it.  Someone may attempt to intervene. This will require them passing the roll in a capable manner (ie if they didn't roll something extremely close to the dead numbers) and a D20 between ya'll to see if they are successful in dealing with your incapacitated self.

Meizarae only has one 'dangerous' attack, a scream. This will affect anyone directly in front of her in a cone shape for 400ft. This is just over the length of an American Football field for comparison.  It is a high pitch wail, likely to burst ear drums if you are well within this range, which will at least deafen the sound. Those within range will need to roll a D10 and get anything other than a 1 to live.

TOUCHING Meizarae will have the same roll effect as above (for punching, grabbing, incidents)

Yes she's pretty weak for a god like being She's tutorial level boss. [/list]

[The Skald]

The march from the small frigid mountain pass guarding Otkrytoye Polotno from the rest of the Tapestry back to Prasino Kolaz's jungle had been a mess. Its tiny passage made keeping formation difficult and the rare crossing of an unaware/prepared citizen made things awkward as people shuffled to try and allow them to pass on through the miles-long line of men, women, and cart creatures.  Some irritated words were said by more than a few, especially as the news had spread, they thought, for people to know not to travel so much during such a dangerous time.

As far as any one knew, however, their opponent had not moved from the last known location. The woman in black, properly known as Virtuoso Meizarae, had been happily content in her reclamation of the temple ruins that Elysion called their headquarters. This gave them comfort, the idea that they would be catching her unawares and unprepared-- not quite an ambush, but certainly trapped like a rat.

Spring was coming. The air opposite of the mountain range was distinctively warmer and wet, making the well worn road difficult to trudge in places. Heavier mounts like Wooly Rhinos seemed likely to sink in spots but they were stronger at keeping wheels dragging through the muck than most of their counterparts. This made the march even longer and after a day solid most were second guessing their own preparedness. Why were they so antsy to rush into this? All these minor troubles seemed to warn them of things stacked against them.

After another day, those that did not desert would find themselves staring at the shredded remains of Elysion's flag. The Crowned Swan emblem sad and heavy with water, like trash in the verdant tangle. This was the point of no return. Hurriedly they set up a temporary camp with the necessities, such as a tent for preliminary healing near the edge so that they could rush those who could not bounce back out of here. Another for storing any dead that are recovered. Now was the time for final preparations and hear the orders that would guide them into the thicket of battle.

[Meizarae]

She knew they were coming, but was not sure when. It bothered her not, as she knew her time would come... while she may be written as a traitor in Skaldic Lore, she was still very much at the beck and call of her master. A being that set her free and would just as likely box her back up again when sufficient new stories had been made. However there was a degree of control she still had... it was she who decided to take back her homeland, a place that had once been called Ysteria. Still coated in the plants they had cultivated for many wonderful years.

She had seen the impact of her guild. The Feathered Raptors that were common place as mounts. Rock Lions not so much... though the months she spent hiding in wait for an opening to take over Elysion she did not encounter very many basilisks, or their eggs.

Seated in the 'throne room' she awaited the future and fumed about recent past. Meizarae had no desire to take over the world, but it was a possibility that was dependent on the players on stage. Her destruction, her promotion, her salvation. Or perhaps... they will just repeat the cycle, seal her away to come loose on another generation of heroes and citizens.

[Marietta]

Marietta rode to the battle camp astride a raven colored feathered raptor she was ready as she could be-- though the armor she chose was perhaps not the best in design. Thick black leather tooled with designs befitting of Inizio D'Oro, inset with gold filigree. On her hip hung a simple rapier, nothing fancy in comparison to her outfit or anything else someone might wield.  Among the caravan was her yurt from Coldhaven's set up, which she had placed in the back of the second gathering point outside of Elysion. While brash and childish at times she was very aware that she desired her wounded to be closest to being removed.

Once everything was organized she gathered her guild privately to explain their particular roles. It would be the Grand Conductor that did the talking, however. He was battle scarred and salted hair, with a stern face and presence that made everyone continue to be on edge as they stood there waiting for his orders and voice as rough as gravel in a bucket.

"I don't give a Skaldic pitch fit if you are tone deaf-- you must continue to sing. The more voices, the better our chances at staying upright. You hear? The verses are very simple and were provided to you when you joined. If you laughed off our great history you will pay for it today, believe me. There are power in those verses.

Never proceed alone... mind your partners in the march. What we know, thanks to our losses in this plant riddled area, she is capable of killing without touching you. I want you men looking out for one another. The Skald is watching, the fact that we choose to march against this enemy is proof of our worth. Being a hero to your comrade is more important than being a hero to us all, stay within your britches sons."

Though should any of her guild did do the hero thing, she could absolve an opponent of her position in the running, though it would be frowned upon. She had ideas, ones that she hoped the pawns involved would play nicely over. As this meeting occurred she glanced over to the healer's guild set up, 'checking in' on one such pawn and what he may be doing. Then promptly back to her people as she stared vaguely into the middle distance or beyond, trying to look attentive and caring before her time to speak came about. The Grand Conductor had more to say about tactics, however...

"Strings, you will proceed forward ahead of Brass. Our opponent's initial obstacle for us is distance and it will be up to you to see if you can't discharge it. Brass if you see an opening, rush in, but be brief. I want the speedier of groups to head in first so you can get out. Heavy sets I want you in only when we are sure. Wind, offer support to either group and keep your voices high."

That was it? She had hoped something more in depth and tactical sounding to happen here. But she knew her cue and stood up to take the small platform. Her lines were simple, rehearsed and certainly not written by her. It came off as a prayer, which was perhaps all they needed from her anyway.

"May the oar you place in these turbulent waters guide you to shore. May the spark that drives you guide you through the night. To you, you brought by The Skald, I honor thy calling here and now."

It actually hurt her cheeks to say all of this, but she made it through. Taking her leave she retreated as the group did their final checks of their equipment. Tomorrow they march.


The day of she sat astride the raptor again, looking more and more like the proper rider as she bowed her head and gestured with one hand, palm out to the crowd, as mounted 'salute'. She was ready for battle as much as they were, suggesting she was going to charge in with them. There was very little fan fare or long announcements. Each guild had explained their individual tactics. Most were likely the same due to the situation, but with some alterations-- such as timing. Letting one guild's group proceed first before theirs. Perhaps going together as a mix. Meizarae was a wildcard for them for a Virtuoso had not been faced in three hundred years. There was very little, if anyone, around to know the truth or the ultimate help about this.

"Wars raged, plagues spread, heroes rose into halls of note and malefactors into infamy. From tragic endings to perfect new beginnings, the Great Skald enjoyed them and the small incidents in daily lives most of all.

And so the stage was set for the sages of old, for players friend and foe."

Then she turned, and drew the rapier slowly to point it ahead of her at the entrance of the overgrowth's end. The tunnel that showed off columns of a fallen ruin... the start of Amara's reclaimed home.

[Aleksandr]

Aleksandr was largely left to his own devices as they prepared, furtive glances cast towards him as many people started to let their preconceptions loose as the tension on the air mounted. He was Skaldborne, was he here to do something amazing? Would he deliver them right in to the maw of death? The more religious hard line regarded him with an awe that made him much more uncomfortable than the doubting and uneasy - he didn't think he could live up to whatever lay inside the mind of a fanatic.
From what he understood of their enemy, she was not likely to be drawing a compliment of soldiers, and she herself attacked in a way that didn't use conventional weapons. As a result he had sparsely armoured himself - a polished breastplate covered his torso, which he had to all but fight to don himself when an entourage of believers came to help him don his garb. As such he was feeling sullen now, burdened with something he didn't ask for - he had accepted he might have to die to win this thing, but the idea of living with reverence was much worse, much harder to reconcile in his mind.

His damaged eye offered him no grievances in his ability to see, yet the pupil and iris still looked like someone had ripped a chunk out of them - the healers he had seen had been baffled by the situation, seeming to find no physiological problem to deal with beyond the curious dissolving of the pigment. He didn't tell them about the headaches, didn't see the point right now - war would not wait for him to get better, if he could get better.
Of course her ladyship showed up to check on him, and the moment was heavy with tension, and of the potential promise of some prior activities. There was little time to talk it out though, with so much to be done and all the prep work on the line for both of them. He settled for kissing the back of her hand in as courtly a fashion as might help her relieve her anxieties about observers, and then he left her to her duties, so he could take up his own.

He was garbed and armed, but he still had another to attend to, stepping outside and putting his fingers in his mouth, an ear-piercing whistle shrieking through the air.  A few moments later, Keiro burst from the nearest foliage and loped out towards Aleksandr. The Rock Lion was a fearsome thing to look at, a vaguely feline creature large enough to compete with a horse, made up of corded, dense muscle just beneath his mottled pelt. Numerous eyes blinked intelligently as the beast observed things around him, the teeth just beneath those eyes big enough, with the size of his jaw, to shear off a man's arm without too much effort - these beasts ate basilisks, out in the wild.
Keiro's tail swished with expectation as Aleksandr vanished for a moment and then returned with the tack to put on his unusual steed, which was immediately rewarded with a snapping of teeth that echoed so loudly as to make Aleksandr wince a little. "You knew this was coming. Don't whine about it."

Not impressed but apparently understanding, the beast huffed out a sound that was equal parts growl and strange, insect-like chattering, chirping noise as he let Aleksandr sort out tack and fasten it on to Keiro as Azalie had shown him to do. Once it was all secured, Keiro was no more impressed, his long tail snaking back and forth with enough force to knock someone over if they were caught by it - accepting, but not happy about it, that was Keiro right now. "Tell you what, Keiro. If we get out of this not dead, we'll take you some place fun, some place where you can eat something you've probably not had in a while."

He talked more to himself than his steed, patting a broad, muscular flank as he exhaled a sigh to center himself, hand resting on the pommel of the sword at his waist. This was the weapon to battle the gods with, then? It had done nothing but bring him misery, it seemed. Something about it was wrong, warped somehow in a way that made him uneasy; in a way that had made Eirian banish him from the tavern just because he was in possession of it. If it helped fell the virtuoso though, then maybe it would be worth it? As the ragtag forces of the civilised world lined up, he certainly hoped so, settling in to his saddle as Keiro stretched and then loped out.

[Willow]

 Willow had a arrived a few days prior, meeting with the other healers. She had yet to see Amara, but was sure their leader would show her face, right? Either way Willow had checked everyone's med kits, refilling as needed. setting up the cots and stretchers for the battle. She had already took stock of what was available. She thought hard about when she had dealt with her last patient, only if they fought hand to hand would the healers really be able to help. You could not fix a broken mind.As the Prima showed and spoke what she would Willow gave due respect before getting back to it.

Willow met with the magic healers separately, seeing where their skills lied and set them up in a section of their own, while our basic aides surrounded them. Willow was fully aware that while magic was being done it made them vulnerable and there needed to be padding between them and any onslaught. Looking over the people had come to the fight she scanned each person from where she stood looking for anything that made them to vulnerable, ones she knew would be first to come to the healers.

Cloudy eyes looked around for their healer leader and sighed, shaking her head she made last minute preparations, collecting a few extra herbs that were nearby, she had a feeling her concoction skills were going to be needed this time. her mind on overdrive as she mentally filed most likely injuries to the front of her database.

[Sakuma Munekatsu]

Munekatsu listened to the speech of the grand conductor. He had learn of the verse before making his way to coldhaven. As for everyone takes care of one another, he had guessed that much on hiw own. he let a sigh, a bit deceived by what he heard but he did not lose hope. In fact, fighting such an enemy will make him rely on instinct alone. He knew not what this foe could do. When the speech was over, he prepared himself. He usually wield only one Katana but this time, he attach the katana he received for his uniform but also is old white katana he used in the past war he had fought in his homeland. Both of them were on his left side. He took care to put the medical kit Willow gave him into his pocket.

as always, He wasn't wearing any armor. Only his Golden and black Kimono and a white shirt under with a pair of pants and leather boots. He preffered to rely on his mobility than the armors to protect himself. He was ready to charge in, a smile on his face. He wasn't anxious at all, he was warrior if is fate was to die on the battlefield, then so be it.

[Gawain]

He was ready to march as he could be and waited anxiously through one meeting and the next. As a knight of Brass he now knew that he would follow the strings into battle. His alertness would be focused on watching for an opening and diving in with his comrades and diving back out with any too burdened by the aura the Virtuoso presented.

The next day there was another more multi-guild meeting with the Prima Famiglia giving speeches of their own, the confident snow-haired daughter of the crown signaling the full start of the march into the verdant corridor that would lead into Elysion's temple ruin head quarters.  His black tunic blending him in with his guild, his family, the brass gold of his equipment shining in the shadows. He belted out loudly, trying to drown out anyone's shyness with the confidence that they might not be heard if they worried about being an awful singer. Every voice was important...

"There's a power in every breath
There's a power in every note..."

[Hakkiem]

Formerly, when he and Cyril and Marietta were growing up they had been confined to the Manor along with the rest of guild heirs at the time. The Primo Uomo was a little crazy, instilling a rule of confinement among the young nobility and turning their lavish quarters into gilded prisons. Things were a worse for his best friend's little sister, who had suddenly and aggressively been declared too ill to participate in most of their studies.

But here she was, more than a year since he last saw her, heading a charge fit as a fiddle. He hung out with the general crowd, but closest to Cyril to give the Primo Figlio some confidence and support. His guild was far too small to matter at this point, effectively disbanded with the strife in the world-- he was technically no longer a noble but his friendship hadn't faltered nor did his service. Cyril needed all the help he could get, the trauma stitching itself into the fiber of his being and Hakkiem worried that he was perhaps not ready to face the very thing that caused this shift in mentality. However, if there was a chance that facing it head on would help him overcome it, they could not miss this chance. They could also not miss this chance to make themselves known, to be mentioned in history beyond a family tree.

When the charge was sounded he clicked his heels into the side of his horse and moved with the crowd. Eyes locked on his friend and trying to keep close. He wasn't sure of what tactics were being applied, as he was not part of any particular formation, thus he would hang out and react to the inevitable. He knew Meizarae's power, he had encountered it first hand with Cyril, Demi, and Marietta. He will do his best to save people who struggle under the weight of their own mind and run them back to the Elysion triage camp. How long until the first though? And could he be sure he could even survive it himself... he almost didn't before...

[Ben]

He was later than he should have been, and he knew it. Ben had only arrived the day before with Rimu in tow, and for the most part Ben kept quiet and out of the way. He didn't seek out anyone he might have known from the guild, as much as he knew now was definitely the best time to get to know the others, when they were all prepared to lay their lives down for the same cause.

Well, he wasn't prepared to die yet, for one. There was no chance of him deserting- he had dragged his reluctant self here anyways, even with Rimu trying to turn him around- but had the Virtuoso not killed, he doubted he would be so willing to fight for a guild he didn't have attachment to. This was for his imaginary debt to Battaglia, not for the good of the Healer’s.

He found himself standing in the march beside an unarmored, sword-wielding man the day of. His own khopesh was at his side, along with his bow strapped to his black-clad back. The man didn't seem to be singing yet, but Ben did hear a familiar voice somewhere, a very loud one…

The near silence he kept wasn't wasted. Though he still couldn't read lyrics from the book he was given beforehand, he'd given each song his utmost attention. By now, he was was confident enough to raise his voice to them, and joined in with a low, but not terrible voice.

[Rimu]

Rimu, right behind Ben, was a canvas covered in every type of scolding face that one could imagine. It changed so a scowl, then a glare then complete distaste. It changed constantly between those things as he looked around and then back to Ben. Unlike the woofman that he followed, he was a walking dictionary of unneeded words and sounds. "Ben.. We really should not be here. You might not survive this, he'll I might not even survive this and then no one will be able to tell Zhaki where you are or what happened. Then he gonna be all alone in Ukwarskit what ever it's called and then he will be lonely and sad! Like you were after I killed him!" He grumbled and constantly stated how this was a very, VERY bad idea.
Not only was it a suicide plan to fight this Misty..Masie... May woman? --Again he had forgotten her name-- but alongside all these soldiers? What if one of them aimed wrong with their now and arrow, or let go of their maces too soon? It would surely hit fellow soldiers! And Rimu was not a member of this guild, though he could have been with how Ben dragged him around he entire time. He was not willing to lose his life and Ben's for something as silly as this! It would only mean that his dept changes to Zhaki for not being able to save Ben. That's it! His soul purpose in this battle would be to keep Ben alive. Screw everything else. He would let Ben do his little man honour thing and fight for this stupid cause but Rimu was no part of this. He would only fight to keep Ben alive! That's what he told himself again and again to build up his energy and adrenalin for exactly that cause.
He was not scared, he couldn't care less about the who-knows-what lady that everyone has gathered here to fight. He did not know her so why should he care anyway since he was not scared, yet.

He raised his big and bright yellow orbs to the top of the crowd of fighters. He was not tall enough to see over all of them and began to hop up and down behind Ben to see how far everyone has gathered. He tried to see where tents were positioned or if there was any even. The yellow and brown harpy also tried to identify armouries and healer tents. It would be helpful knowledge for when Ben got in too deep over his head. If he would remember those locations that is.

The swift winged creature spread his wings, or rather attempted to for a lift into the air to get better visuals but quickly gave up as h got glares from either side. Best stay on the ground then. He did not want to cause more trouble than needed and once again began to scold the woofman infront of him. "Ben! Bad idea! Seriously bad idea...no good planing. Death wish material, you know? Suicide mission!" He muttered bitterly, not about to let the canidae rest on peace for his horrible decision.

[Tayln]

Somewhere behind everyone else, there was a lone soldier. Maybe a little too thin, a little too short, mostly unassuming. He didn't seem to be wearing a whole much of...anything that would keep them alive and their weapon of choice appeared to be a pair of Sais, used and abused and perhaps sections along their hilts and butts were a little warped. To the outward eye, maybe he looked nervous, shaggy black hair was loose and a badly bruised hand was towards his mouth, teeth gnawing at the nail, dark green eyes were focused on the path they were too take. There was singing, there was talking, perhaps even some people were giving each other their last goodbyes and what not, they were all so nervous, it was palpable.

The soldier didn't seem to do any of that, as if he had long accepted fate. Or maybe he was just confident.

[Travis]

It felt like Fate, most likely the Skald, had intervened again on Travis behalf and set his path in proper motion once more from the chaos that seemed to keep him from the war. A few days behind from merging with the others by being personal there himself instead of just sending other merchants and the quickly loaded wagons of extra materials ahead. It was an uproar at first that the Merchant's Guild had little time to prepare but when told aloud that everyone was caught unaware, even that of the other guilds, that death was upon them and who knew when the Virtuoso might move from the ruins of Elysion. Throwing in his own personal share of goods and gold with that of Donk's showed that even if Travis was the random new heir of the guild, and had a short time to get required of the guilds ways, he was willing to risk it in order to prevent another random death out break across the lands.

By doing this Travis had gained some respect out of the guild members who did not take kind to the hastily actions of Donk claiming him and later vanishing, leaving Travis to have to learn on his own and from the few members that were willing to teach. There was also a whispered dark rumor that a few were hoping for Travis downfall during the war so that leadership would be passed on to the next coming head guild leader, and if not another would try to take their place. A seed of doubt and greed was planted among the few but it was already to late to correct the problem for there was another up ahead that needed to be dealt with.

When Travis' house went up in a blaze those few who wanted Travis gone felt a brief sense of joy that the time had come to have a new guild leader and recall back some of the goods that had been sent out for the war. After all, they were not making a profit from this and was losing money if things go south. Surely the order would have been heard and those wagons that had left a few days later would be seen already coming back?

No, for Travis was alive, if not well, at Amara's place being healed up before heading out. The armor he was suppose to wear for was no longer with him for it went up in flames along with anything else he was going to take to the battle field in his house. For some damned reason, the shadow puppet had silt Travis throat and told him it was not his place to die there but elsewhere. That the grief, hopelessness, lost, and the need to die under pressure of such strong emotions had to be else where. Had to be tortured emotionally more before he was allowed to feel the oh sweet touch of death. So here he was among the late arriving wagons to set up more tents from the war site and have the extras good arrange to be easily move out on a call when need be.

[The Unknown]

These were desperate times, as the world seemed to march forth in to battle against Meizarae and despite it being an unpopular opinion he stood on the opposite side of the scuffle. With plans in mind to entertain himself for the future, he still fled the arms of those attempting to hold him back. This was it. The current event that was going to change everything and although the woman might end up trapped in her watery crypt of the catacombs once more, it wouldn't change his opinion of her. His finger tips brushed his lips and he could still feel her waxy ones against his own. There was more to her than anyone truly knew and as a book, he wanted to know. He was here to learn if nothing more, and perhaps step in if the situation called for it.

There were no weapons on his person to speak of; no blades or outward physical weapons beyond hands and feet. He stood within his usual cloak that covered his body from the neck down and out of the way of the traveling fleet. The chosen perch was a tree, seemingly dead by the dry look of it, but he had to stay out of that cone of sound, now didn't he? Those marching on meant little except what their actual plans were; death or imprisonment and only time would tell.

[muttsmaddworld]

This was not where he had planned on being a year prior. It seemed like another life now, fooling around like a child in the gardens, teasing his little sister into angry fits, running through the halls and laughing until he cried. He looked like a much different man now. There was no air of joy or childishness around him, not anymore.

The stallion below him pawed the ground, seeming to feel the anticipation in the air as they marched forward. The early morning sun gleamed off the golden breast plate etched with the symbol of his status. His usually messy black hair was slicked back atop his head with no helm despite suggestions to do so. No, he wanted her to know who he was. He was ready for a second round with the monster who murdered the queen and king.

A flash of his mother's face distracted him, his chin falling slowly to his chest as he closed his eyes. But it was only for a moment. There was no time for distractions now. There was a war about to start. An army against one villian who would taste a blade today- or tooth and claw or her own magic. He knew not how the goddess would be slain, but he was ready to watch and hoped it was slow.

"Wars raged, plagues spread, heroes rose into halls of note and malefactors into infamy. From tragic endings to perfect new beginnings, the Great Skald enjoyed them and the small incidents in daily lives most of all.

And so the stage was set for the sages of old, for players friend and foe."

The words left his mouth in time with his sister. He'd pull up beside her, but was not quite ready to meet her gaze. He stayed focused on their target. There was a fear deep in his chest that he was worried she would see despite the hate that burned in his eyes. A hate that had been destroying the boy he'd been before her running away.