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Prasino Kolaz / Re: Virtuoso Vanquish: Meizarae (2018)
« Last post by Aleksandr on Yesterday at 02:08:10 PM »
He waited, and waited, each moment trembling like wire pulled taut, until the tension finally snapped it as the arrows rained down, the clatter of those missing their mark punctuated by the thicker sound of successful impact. He clasped the sword in both hands, fingers wringing his grip around it as he prepared to move, feeling the stress of anticipation start to build as he waited for the arrows to cease plummeting down around his target.
He had started to rise from his crouching position, ready to go, when the terrible shriek ripped through the air, his eyes watering, his soul feeling like it was rattling in its moorings, spared the worst of the effects by being behind her. He didn't look at the brave men and women assaulting that path to Meizarae, he did not want to see what she had done to them with that awful sound. People were dying already, he was sure, and the death count was going to soar as they were bottle-necked in that passage, so he urged himself to act now, and if nothing else, be a distraction so that they could close on her and finish her with the weight of countless blades.

He closed his eyes and reached down, inside himself, looking for that strange sensation, that awful burning that ate at his his mind, finding a cold, grim apprehension there. He felt the first twinges of panic starting to set in - the whole point of this gamble was that in his crazed state, they thought he would not be able to hear the cry of their foe, and that would allow him to close and fight her without risking dying before the first step. As he was now, he couldn't do anything, fighting against the sudden creeping dread, looking for something that would engage that ominous, furious state he had lapsed in to before now.
He thought of that injustice of his arrival here - yanked from some time and place by some trickster god, to be the whipping boy of an eccentric merchant and a self-righteous, sheltered princess. The pain of having his memories stripped away and left with nothing, not even the clothing on his back when he had first arrived. He thought of Jackie's flirtatious mockery, and Eirian's casting him out because of the sword... A cursed tool also courtesy of the trickster god.

He felt the sudden twinge in his chest, a sense of heat that curled and felt like it washed over his ribs, a sense of eagerness building up as he tried to kindle the feeling further. He thought of all the mishaps he had endured since he had gotten here; the betrayal of well-meaning but misguided Azalie, the gawkers and simpletons that simultaneously treated him as something special, but took away the human element of him, a dumb icon to their trickster god who was there purely for them to have some sort of martyr. And lastly, he thought of all those people who had come to die in this place, to fight an age-old evil while their people back home talked of fairy tales and failed to grasp the very real and dangerous nature of the situation. An army of whatever people could be found with the bravery to lay down their life, led by a princess who had the job because no one else would or could take it, walking to her death for a populace that barely even knew her....
The heat built in his chest and with it came a roaring in his head that almost took him off his feet, the fire in his chest almost unbearable as it started to weep out of his skin, catching along his hands and racing up his arms. He trembled visibly, veins on his hands and arms standing up as the fire rolled up his body, the brown of his eyes changing to a glowing ember orange. He exhaled a bass growl, and with it came a plume of steam, the last vestiges of Aleksandr the man washed away in a tide of white-hot rage.
He hurtled out from cover, devoid of reason now as his vision filled up with the fire, the oppressive heat of his rage made manifest rolling off him, stinging the very air around him with the frenetic flames.
He was a man trained in combat, trained in tactics and strategy. But right now he roared with the intensity of a crazed man as he bore down on Meizarae, the sword Marcato raised above him to bring down on her, the conflagration of rage reflected in the glinting steel.
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Prasino Kolaz / Re: Virtuoso Vanquish: Meizarae (2018)
« Last post by Aleksandr on Yesterday at 01:59:27 PM »
Getting attack roll post out of the way, actual post to follow


Rolled 1d20 : 14, total 14
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Prasino Kolaz / Re: Virtuoso Vanquish: Meizarae (2018)
« Last post by Marietta on June 15, 2018, 12:39:46 PM »
She felt alone now, working her way back up through the crowd, her chin high as she browsed down her nose at her soldiers... past Cyril and Hakkiem as they took to the battle itself. Marietta hated the idea of leading from the back. Aware of the potential for rumors that will pass on as common knowledge that she fled or backed off, sending people to die against the Virtuoso. Maybe a fraction of those would fight with the same mentality that Aleksandr had; that one of the royals had to stay behind to survive. That it was bad enough she even showed up to the field. All of these conflicting thoughts and emotions muddled her mind, tuning out the march as she retreated to the forward camp, a place where she wouldn't even have a good view of what was going on beyond the trees and within the ruins of Ysteria / Elysion.

She would stay mounted in case she had to rush in, brow furrowed as she once again focused on the heat in the pit of her abdomen, coaxing it to seep into the rest of her, rise through her veins... circulate there in her palm where it came to life as a small ember no larger than that on the tip of a match. To her, it meant she could burn the jungle down to save the greater part of the nation if she had to. Still singing, it flickered and twisted, sparking a little brighter but no bigger, the warmth reminiscent of a touch shared before the march. She could see flames within the march, in the cores of every soldier and volunteer; some brighter and bigger than others. Many to be extinguished. In this moment she realized she needed help, needed advice.  And this perhaps was a moment too late?

Her eyes left the departing crowd, unaware that the first arrows would be in the air-- only hearing the resulting counter attack of a banshee wail. Her other hand gripped the rein of her mount. How many fell just then? Did her brother even get close before that happened?

 In a haste she sought out Shi Shen, if he was not already beside her.
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Elsewhere / Re: Out of the Bag (Hounding 2017 Bonus)
« Last post by The Skald on June 14, 2018, 04:34:35 PM »
Quote
Doctor: 3/9
Alastride: 3/9
Keith: 3/9

When the three met up things became far more silent than before. The natural rustling had fallen still, as though because they had all conviened together in one spot their respective predators were just lying in wait for their guard to go down. No breeze, the eyes had gone away visually but could still be felt, like a chill on the back of their neck that remained persistent throughout their conversation.

Before too much time, however, the caw of a raven.

They couldn't sit here and squabble or decide on anything in too much time. It was not going to allow them to remain in one spot for long.

Another caw, like a count down. The natural rustling returned.

Then another minutes later... the eyes visible just in their peripherals. More rustling.

[Read previous post for options and roll instructions]
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Prasino Kolaz / Re: Virtuoso Vanquish: Meizarae (2018)
« Last post by The Skald on June 13, 2018, 01:03:09 PM »
NPC Rolls, to pad statistics / help. Twice as many people as last time to account for more arriving close enough to participate.

NPCs vs Aura
Rolled 20d100 : 11, 2, 2, 68, 68, 22, 81, 7, 74, 94, 31, 42, 72, 21, 33, 64, 25, 32, 20, 1, total 770


NPCs vs Scream
Rolled 20d10 : 6, 4, 8, 8, 1, 2, 8, 8, 7, 1, 9, 10, 8, 2, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 9, total 117


MOAR ARROWS (none toward Rimu this time :D)
Rolled 20d20 : 19, 20, 2, 15, 6, 14, 15, 10, 5, 1, 19, 7, 8, 3, 5, 20, 1, 17, 1, 4, total 192
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Prasino Kolaz / Re: Virtuoso Vanquish: Meizarae (2018)
« Last post by Meizarae on June 13, 2018, 12:58:15 PM »
The first arrow came as no surprise, the Virtuoso waved it away with a simple smirk on her face. It was an action to display her power beyond the heavy aura that pressed in the minds of the few that had run in to its realm. Those that had not fallen were taken aback, the rumors suddenly a lot more real than they could have imagined. Her dismissal of one arrow did not account for the rest, however, with most of the total projectiles were deftly blunted toward her right and left. Many grazed at her, releasing streams of black smoke from the cuts as they passed by. She was not impenetrable-- the soldiers that caught this would feel a little flicker of hope. The song much louder as more pressed forward into the eye of the storm, spreading out into the great room as close as they could muster. They could strike her, if they can get through the aura.

Three of the arrows made a significant strike upon her, with one lodged in her right shoulder.

The song was trouble. They were bolstered by it... she needed it silent. She chuckled, her frail-looking shoulders and chest heaving. The harpy had gone unnoticed, his plea for her to put aside her aura completely ignored as he struggled. Her focus was on the ants that were coming in, the single doorway meant that they were funneled, if only briefly, which meant it was the singular best time for her to let out the high wailing scream. This attack would surely cut a healthy (for her) swath out of them.

[The Scream: Those within range: D10, get anything but a 1 to survive]
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Prasino Kolaz / Re: Virtuoso Vanquish: Meizarae (2018)
« Last post by Meizarae on June 13, 2018, 11:25:33 AM »
Response to the npc archers and Travis'

Rolled 11d20 : 1, 12, 12, 13, 20, 16, 2, 3, 14, 3, 18, total 114
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Prasino Kolaz / Re: Virtuoso Vanquish: Meizarae (2018)
« Last post by Travis on June 05, 2018, 01:11:01 AM »
As the arrows did fly through the air with high hopes of the archers, and those around them, that they would hit the target it was as if a collective breath was held in. Maybe a few would find their marks while others would miss short of the target and land around the Virtuoso.  Either way it was do or die now for those to turn back would be marked as a traitor and live with the memory that they left comrades to die.

The feel to even kill one's self was strong when the arrows did stop flying and when the advancement begun. Screams of regret, anger, and death were starting to fill the air. Making other's question themselves to move forward or launch another attack with ranged weapons. A few more archers found arrows not spent, others would find spears or even lances to launch at the Virtuoso.


Travis on the other hand would kick over a bucket of water and thrust his right hand forward while his left would wave off anyone who was questioning his methods of wasting such a precious resource that could be used to clean wounds and put out fires that where spreading due to the 'It's the end!' depression and fear campaign to kill themselves would start up. A pity that a yell of 'Stay back and capture those people!' would have many more running in panic as he would bend the water to his will and split it up so to transform it into ice spears. Lifting his left hand up he would take two out of the three ice spears and launch the first one towards the Virtuoso. This first attack would give him a chance to gauge rather to get more closer and to see how many more buckets of water he was going to need to kick over to keep launching his range attacks.

Another problem to watch and note, where the few that got trapped in that 'death aura' and were still panicking about. Living moving shields that could end up getting in his way.
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Prasino Kolaz / Re: Virtuoso Vanquish: Meizarae (2018)
« Last post by Travis on June 05, 2018, 01:01:07 AM »
Rolled 1d100 : 39, total 39

Rolled 1d20 : 16, total 16

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