RE: Black Zenith [Adventure RPG / Chapter Four: Fires of Heaven]
01-05-2015, 01:23 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-05-2015, 09:50 PM by chimericWilder.)
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(12-30-2014, 05:31 PM)SupahKiven Wrote: »Savannah weathers another fiery kick, blocking the licking inferno once again with her scorched forearms. She growls at the tongues of flame burning her skin raw. What a dick. She begins to ready another spell, getting a feel for how much of the hedges she can work with.
"Heretic?! I'll show you heretic when I turn your guts to charcoal!" Savannah readies another attack for the flaming bastard, only for a purple light to pop up under him. She raises a battered arm, prepping for some sort of... fire crap, only for the dude to wink away. The man standing there, Savannah might say he was dressed to the nines. The sudden swap and the appearance of the man were enough to startle her into not doing anything long enough for him to wink and rocket away.
"Hey! Get back here!" Savannah clenches a fist, ticked off that she got distracted, when she hears a sound and that dude from earlier pops out of the ground. "You've got to be kidding me." She ignores the jetpack dude for a moment, turning to face Renzo.
"Back off, psycho. This is between me and rocket boy back there." She splays her fingers out and, still facing the new arrival to her battle scene, activates Aromatherapy. Taking what little she can from the hedges, Savannah spurs on their growth, causing the bloom of colorful flowers. Which then proceed to explode, showering pollen and sap everywhere.
A powerful fragrance of mixed oils fills the air around you, clearing your head and soothing the burns you suffered mere moments ago, healing you, Renzo and the dragon for 315 health each. With this much vegetation around you, you can reach far... But you dont have the power to make the entire courtyard erupt with pollen and oil of that caliber. (roll 16+8, crit)
Miquel appears to be beyond reach of your snowstorm for the moment, avoiding it entirely. (Hit 9+6 Vs Defense 19)
(12-31-2014, 12:31 AM)Psych Wrote: »Renzo is taken aback by the young woman's curt words. "How rude. I'd call you bipolar, but now I can see you're strictly arctic. And here I thought you'd had a good idea. Fear not madam, RENZO shall show the true art of BATTLE."
Renzo pays her no head heed though. He heals her with his glove, and uses his magic to summon a giant canvas, slamming it onto the huntsman to create a Masterpiece.
With a flourish, you heal Savannah for 1050 health! (roll 14+6)
Then, with stunning speed and a lot of magic, you draw the scene in front of you, the tall hedges, ever so subtly brimming with compulsive magic. The shattered, looming tower, casting a broad, jagged shadow across the landscape, capturing its oppressive nature. Across it all is the twilight cast by the light of the two suns, a surreal shading reminiscent of a blurred-out oil painting yet without sacrificing detail. Central to the image is the man with the jetpack, hefting his gun, an impassive expression on his face.
As you finish, presenting the painting, the man veers closer for a look, trying to inspect your work while keeping an eye on Savannah. Perhaps somebody could have exploited this moment of distraction to attack the man, but alas nobody is around to do so and the moment is passed.
Then he clicks his heels together, and suddenly he becomes a speeding blur, dashing from out the sky and through Savannah, bowling her over in a spectacularly painful burst of speed for 839 damage!
(12-31-2014, 07:05 AM)BlazerC Wrote: »Bohw's shriek of pain was drowned out by the attack itself, her body went limp, collapsing to the ground and completely paralyzed. The air left her lungs, her broken body was unable to keep itself going as she lay there motionless like a mangled corpse. Bohw didn't even realize she was dying, total agony and wailing spirits around her was the only thing she knew.
Even as the battlefield is rocked with another explosion, Mayor gave all attention to his adversary. He kept his defenses seemingly lowered and his stance relaxed, but judging from the way the stone golem was circling Mayor, they knew fully well that Mayor was ready to defend himself at a moment's notice. He didn't have time for this, so he took the offensive and leaped forward suddenly, bringing one foot down with an earth splitting stomp to upset the opponent's balance. Now that he was much closer he threw a wide punch with his weight and momentum behind it, Mayor struck the enemy's tower shield straight in the center, aiming to shatter the stone, Sabotaging it's defense.
Mayor's fist strikes stone, shattering it in an explosive shower, dealing 165 (roll 10+5) damage to Rashagor. Before Mayor can recover his stance, the stone behemoth in front of him slams its axe into Mayor's side - or tries to, for Mayor barely catches the blow on his shield (Hit 2-1 Vs Defense 7). The stone axe shatters against the shield, fragments of stone flying everywhere, some of it burying itself in Mayor's side for 86 damage.
The stone man seems unintimidated by the loss of his armaments, merely taking a small step back before a new weapon starts to grow from his hands, taking the shape of a massive stone lance within mere moments.
(12-31-2014, 11:59 AM)BlazerC Wrote: »As Bohw lay there, her body begun to involuntarily twitch, dark magic washing and enveloping the Impling as her form changed. The body suddenly jerked upright, as if being pulled by invisible strings as Bohw writhed around like a limp puppet. Bohw snapped to attention, glaring down the de-horned man with a lifeless look in her eye, bringing up a twitching and burnt hand up to her face to hide a wicked smile.
"What delicious irony." She said, in a voice that was not her own, "You wish to stop it, yet on poor judgement, you kill one of the only people who can achieve so." Whoever Bohw was now begun to to laugh quietly under her breath, clearly entertained by the thought as she channeled energy from another realm to empower her form.
You feel the madness consume you... But the growing rage lets you focus. (70% Insanity - 50 % = 20)
Dark power flows into you. It feels as though molten lava runs through your veins, an energy so sweet it hurts, empowering you... for now. (roll 20+9+5)
Meanwhile, the white-clad man stands silently, staggering unsteadily as he talks to himself, not appearing to have noticed that you arent wholly dead.
"I remember... I lit the nightskies and brought joy to the cold winter... What has happened to us? Why... Are we here?"
Steadying himself, he floats back into the air, surveying the battles being fought across the courtyard. "This is wrong." He says, making a gesture as if to grab the sky itself. As he does, a bright star winks into existance, visible in the twilight. It falls from the skies, leaving a luminous trail on the horizon as it falls upon Rashagor, dealing 1864 damage!
(01-01-2015, 02:17 AM)MasterBlade Wrote: »"And neither will we show mercy to a King that shames the memory of his lost people!"
Thunderpaw raised his blade of light towards the king, as if to throw it. Then pointed it into the battlefield below, towards the limping swordsman. At the same time, the sigil around the knight's neck began to glow with a feint aura light as strength was slowly restored to the near-fallen man akin to a fountain of life.
<Restoration Activation>
"There is nothing one cannot do with hope and the right resources. Every being, god or mortal, has a weakness. Yours is fear unbecoming of the crown you hold. I apologize for the souls of your people and whatever vengeance they may wish for what I must do. But a man that serves the dark god out of fear is no better than the men that serve him out of loyalty."
The knight raised his sword skywards, then towards the fallen king as it erupted into a piercing bolt of pure light heading straight for his weakened heart. "I fear no king without conviction! En'guarde!"
The king nods at you, accepting your words as what he expected to hear. He brings his hands together, moving them ever so slightly, ripping the tower below apart. As you launch your bolt, he makes a slight gesture in response, ripping a chunk of stone out of the intervening space between the two of you, using it to block your attack... Except, your bolt shatters the jagged block of stone and it continues on to strike the king in the chest, triggering a radiant explosion that singes his silvered black ceremonial robes, making him stumble and dealing 876 damage (roll 19+6). Gritting his teeth, the king continues his intricate spellweaving, ripping chunks of rock from the tower below, parts of different rooms still attached to some of them. It isnt long before the larger shard of the tower is surrounded by smaller stone chunks. One at a time, they start launching at you.
What do you do?
(01-01-2015, 05:28 AM)ICantGiveCredit Wrote: »Watson brings his sword to bear across this man's strange, esoterically-inked chest, the red jewel buried in his pocket flashing, its . He cannot stand the mystical snake's slithering through the air, its flames licking all around him, slowly cooking him. Though he admits that it's better than being electrically fried to death by that jetpack-dressed gentleman from before.
And then, without even employing an ounce of his Wits (what do you expect from a drunk man?), Watson guesses the man's conflagrations, and even his accouterments to be of magical origin. Because really, a kilt? A KILT?!? He must have taken even his fashion sense from a fiery hell somewhere, Watson just isn't sure where! Watson, not being able to stand the presence of this man's poor taste in clothing (and lack thereof, with concern to the other man's torso) and his ridiculous, painfully flamboyant snake, raises his left hand, palm up, and looks to the sky.
A large shadow is cast on both of them. The other, more hot-blooded man seems to pay it no mind, and Watson looks serene, his eyes closed as he continues to keep his arm raised high.
Suddenly, a distinct rectangular shape can be made out in the sky. Is that a box? It looks grey. What has Watson gotten them into? Oh god a huge metal thing is going to slam onto both of them and flatten them like pancakes.
And with the advent of a large crashing sound, that is what many would think. Until they look up and see that Watson and Sa'ron are inside a cage. A purple field seems to surround it, the outside of the enclosure being a place where the magic is concentrated, trying to fill a space it's locked out from. Hopefully this will manage this marauder's flaring-intense assaults.
Before the lithe man has a chance to respond, you slash your blade across his chest for 219 damage (roll 4+6). He growls, starting to flow into an attack... But then your cage slams into position around the two of you, and the flaming serpent winks out, taking the fire with it, save that which already consumes the hedges outside the cage.
The man, meanwhile, stops dead in his tracks, utterly stunned. Without even seeming to realize it, he falls to his knees. He looks completely lost.
"I'zith?" he says in confusion. "I'zith...?"
Voice weak and emotionless he asks, "What have you done?"
He doesnt seem like he intends to defend himself.
(01-02-2015, 11:53 PM)Frolic Wrote: »Myra was blown about yet again, the impact knocking the wind out of her chest and shaking her bones in their very places. She soon joined in her body's groans of protest with her voice, getting quite tired of the wind working against her so much today. Myra lay there for a moment to let her breath return to her and wonder to herself if that explosion was even voluntary on the lycanthrope champion's part.
Such thoughts were blown away (much like she was a moment ago) the instant Myra looked up and saw the huge dragon that just toppled over the tower. Oh no, did I hit my head? Am I hallucinating? Oh gods, I've taken one too many falls now.
"...I-" Myra started, gawking at the scene with the dragon and the floating tower ruins, turning back to the lycanthrope. The new sight gave her the burst of energy needed to scramble onto her two human feet, her excited mind too frazzled to have considered taking up the offered helping hand. She was nearly tripping over herself to stand up in her haste, her position no where near steady before she began speaking again, "Do you see that too? Is that dragon with you? Er, your king? Why is it wrecking the tower? Where did it come from!? That's a dragon, and it's here, in the middle of a city!!"
In all of her shock and scattered thoughts, it occurred to the ravenfolk that maybe that dragon was a random "visitor", invading the place because of the attraction the huge explosion from earlier made. Not willing to take any chances, Myra did her best to pull together a healing spell for both herself and the lycanthrope. If that thing was here for everyone's heads, the champion by her side will definitely be needed to help fend it off. She also hoped in the back of her mind that the lycanthrope would take it as a gesture of friendliness.
The lycan seems disappointed when you scramble to your feet on your own, letting his hand fall in response, though only for a moment before he begins weaving healing spells of his own, a strange blend of wind- and restorative magic healing you twice for 258 and 304. Your own healing heals the two of you for 294 (roll 11+5).
Nehron rumbles an answer to your questions. "That is mighty Belarion. The winds speak of him on occasion, an ancient dragon that... does not belong? I cannot say. I have never spoken with a dragon before. Forget for a moment, and listen."
He does just that, falling quiet, ears raised attentively as if listening. You notice that he has gradually grown to be less tangible - indeed, one claw seems to slowly be turning to wind, becoming a whirling cyclone instead.
"Can you not hear it? Something is very wrong..."
He looks skywards, to where the king and Thunderpaw face off. "We arent his champions. We come from different places, far-off. I know not the others' tales, but i dont think they were here before, either." Frowning, he tilts his head. "The real ones must have died-"
Though he seemed relaxed enough before, he starts to grow tense again. "It comes. Please, you have to save us. I can feel the rage building again. Run! Run before the fury of the storm consumes you!"
He snarls, then lashes out with one claw, unleashing a strong gust to blow over you, 235 damage nullified by your windshield.
---
The great red dragon leaps into the air, gaining flight. He circles the courtyard, wings beating a steady rhythm.
Stats
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