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[IC] THE CURSE OF AMBERSTAR
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<blockquote data-quote="Archon Basileus" data-source="post: 7280177" data-attributes="member: 6855545"><p><em><span style="color: #FF0000">[Yeah, initiative everyone, heheh. 'They' have a score of 8... And by they I mean the fog-man. Embla gets 22.]</span></em></p><p></p><p>Aanzu's reach is more than enough to strike the creature. The fog twists once more, as a cryptic moan comes from it. Sounds of pain and fear rise and a vaguely human image finally manifests itself, cowering under the power of the attack. The entity has the bearings of a tall, well-bred human being, dressed in what once were fine red robes. In his chest, a golden, decorated pectoral plate adorns what was once a set of ritual clothes. Nonetheless, circumstances have made it torn, just as much as the man inside them. His frail body and sunken features are as much of a wreck as his torn silks and his dented jewels. In his hand, an old, curved golden sword still hangs, ready to split herbs and animals. Blood has gathered all over the blade, though, reaching the hilt as well as his hands, going black as time went by. </p><p></p><p>The man is curved, hiding his face in fear and shame. He trembles and sobs, his voice echoing through the myst-filled halls in solitude. "Pleeeeaaase... Stop...." - he begs, still not facing Aanzu or the giantess or any other hero before him. </p><p></p><p></p><p><strong>AANZU</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p>Aanzu's strike must've nearly killed the frail man. Clearly, he is a priest. Odds are he got stuck in here while he crossed these halls. Weak, of course, and foolish, but quite harmless. A typical human.</p><p></p><p>A second after the burst that led him to reveal himself, other steps are heard. Three others - another man and two women - appear around the heroes, once more a few steps away. They reveal themselves as far as the mysts allow them. Their clothes are similar to those of the curved man, and they hold blades that bear the same nature, even the same blackened stains upon them. They, too, moan and plead.</p><p></p><p>"Whyyyy...?" - says a female voice, her face nearly in tears.</p><p></p><p>"Stop.... stop...." - another repeats, his torn robes dragging through the floor.</p><p></p><p>Four harmless human figures - and nothing else - are now terrified of the prince.</p><p></p><p>HARFIK</p><p></p><p>Keeping his stance, the monk controls his lance with precision and grace. He sees the man curling around himself, bent away from Aanzu. A second later, one of the four priests appears, walking towards him. It's the pleading woman. She speaks to Aanzu, but looks at Harfik, apparently asking for his protection.</p><p></p><p>Seeing the monk's cautious posture, she decides not to move, but her sadness still reaches him with pleading, vacant eyes.</p><p></p><p>Ah, fated woman! Harfik saw his share of liars during his life, and yours is a face that lies... There's no doubt in Harfik's mind, these are the faces of madmen, even madder than those he met in the pits, doomed to die or to kill. They've been taken, and whatever dragged their sanity left deep scars. At first, the monk shrivers as he faces her, and soon he understands why: despite the heavy apron the woman drags, despite the fear of the moment, despite the vapours that fill the room, leaving his own forehead soaked... She does not sweat. Not a single drop of sweat.</p><p></p><p>THULWAR</p><p></p><p>The small sage glances the other male priest, his robes dragging more than the others'. He marches in a curved posture, as if afraid to be the target of even further agressions. His eyes are old and wise, it seems, and he begs not with fear, but with sadness. The blade he bears in one of his hands is matched by the incenser on the other, and the mysts it produces are easily lost amidst the fog that surrounds them all. </p><p></p><p>He tries to speak, but his voice only comes out with great effort...</p><p></p><p>ICOSA</p><p></p><p>Gun up, Icosa studies the sudden visitors. Their moves are frail and irregular, as if demanding a great deal of concentration, but their steps are surprisingly light, flowing unimpeded through the irregular floor. Icosa studies them further, realizing they aren't affected by the thick vapours or by the heat that falls over his own companions...</p><p></p><p>LYLLIE</p><p></p><p>The gnome does not second-guess her own conclusions. Tore clothes, dried blood, the light steps, the sly pleas, the false tears... She can <em>feel</em> it, as she can feel them grasping the heroes, step by step. They're patient and smart, she knows, for they're the manifestations of old feelings and old lives. An eternity of march wouldn't stop them, as long as it gave them the chance to dress once more the garments of life... </p><p></p><p>Before she can warn them, their true nature becomes apparent. They reveal their stratagem, probably sensing the impending danger of discovery! They rise, floating a few inches above the floor, crying and moaning! Lyllie heard it so many times, this sick symphony of death and jealousy! So many times she tried to uncover hidden stories through their voices and their broken existences! But always, <em>always</em>, they resented her, even in her half-living state! </p><p></p><p>Damn ghosts!</p><p></p><p>EVERYONE</p><p></p><p>The creatures rise their voices, empty eyes and decaying visages! Their bodies cover themselves with the marks of death, rotting away clothes and flesh! Bone exposes, and silks are rotten away! They become the very image of loss and sorrow, and hate rises from them, as if the wanted to take revenge on AAnzu's actions! Several cries jon theirs' on the mysts, their origins still unseen, and the heroes behold with dread and disgust the translucid shapes of the apparitions!</p><p></p><p><em><span style="color: #FF0000">[Ok, you may roll your actions in order of initiative, as usual! But, before you do that, please, give me a WIS resistance test - DC 13 Failure means the character is frightened for a minute. Remember, five or more on a failure takes age away, so... Be careful! Also, give me ONE TEST PER CHARACTER, not one per ghost! It'd make little sense to roll one by one, as far as I understand it.]</span></em></p><p></p><p> [MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=6776182]JustinCase[/MENTION] [MENTION=23298]industrygothica[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855102]Greenmtn[/MENTION] [MENTION=8858]hafrogman[/MENTION]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Archon Basileus, post: 7280177, member: 6855545"] [I][COLOR="#FF0000"][Yeah, initiative everyone, heheh. 'They' have a score of 8... And by they I mean the fog-man. Embla gets 22.][/COLOR][/I] Aanzu's reach is more than enough to strike the creature. The fog twists once more, as a cryptic moan comes from it. Sounds of pain and fear rise and a vaguely human image finally manifests itself, cowering under the power of the attack. The entity has the bearings of a tall, well-bred human being, dressed in what once were fine red robes. In his chest, a golden, decorated pectoral plate adorns what was once a set of ritual clothes. Nonetheless, circumstances have made it torn, just as much as the man inside them. His frail body and sunken features are as much of a wreck as his torn silks and his dented jewels. In his hand, an old, curved golden sword still hangs, ready to split herbs and animals. Blood has gathered all over the blade, though, reaching the hilt as well as his hands, going black as time went by. The man is curved, hiding his face in fear and shame. He trembles and sobs, his voice echoing through the myst-filled halls in solitude. "Pleeeeaaase... Stop...." - he begs, still not facing Aanzu or the giantess or any other hero before him. [B]AANZU [/B] Aanzu's strike must've nearly killed the frail man. Clearly, he is a priest. Odds are he got stuck in here while he crossed these halls. Weak, of course, and foolish, but quite harmless. A typical human. A second after the burst that led him to reveal himself, other steps are heard. Three others - another man and two women - appear around the heroes, once more a few steps away. They reveal themselves as far as the mysts allow them. Their clothes are similar to those of the curved man, and they hold blades that bear the same nature, even the same blackened stains upon them. They, too, moan and plead. "Whyyyy...?" - says a female voice, her face nearly in tears. "Stop.... stop...." - another repeats, his torn robes dragging through the floor. Four harmless human figures - and nothing else - are now terrified of the prince. HARFIK Keeping his stance, the monk controls his lance with precision and grace. He sees the man curling around himself, bent away from Aanzu. A second later, one of the four priests appears, walking towards him. It's the pleading woman. She speaks to Aanzu, but looks at Harfik, apparently asking for his protection. Seeing the monk's cautious posture, she decides not to move, but her sadness still reaches him with pleading, vacant eyes. Ah, fated woman! Harfik saw his share of liars during his life, and yours is a face that lies... There's no doubt in Harfik's mind, these are the faces of madmen, even madder than those he met in the pits, doomed to die or to kill. They've been taken, and whatever dragged their sanity left deep scars. At first, the monk shrivers as he faces her, and soon he understands why: despite the heavy apron the woman drags, despite the fear of the moment, despite the vapours that fill the room, leaving his own forehead soaked... She does not sweat. Not a single drop of sweat. THULWAR The small sage glances the other male priest, his robes dragging more than the others'. He marches in a curved posture, as if afraid to be the target of even further agressions. His eyes are old and wise, it seems, and he begs not with fear, but with sadness. The blade he bears in one of his hands is matched by the incenser on the other, and the mysts it produces are easily lost amidst the fog that surrounds them all. He tries to speak, but his voice only comes out with great effort... ICOSA Gun up, Icosa studies the sudden visitors. Their moves are frail and irregular, as if demanding a great deal of concentration, but their steps are surprisingly light, flowing unimpeded through the irregular floor. Icosa studies them further, realizing they aren't affected by the thick vapours or by the heat that falls over his own companions... LYLLIE The gnome does not second-guess her own conclusions. Tore clothes, dried blood, the light steps, the sly pleas, the false tears... She can [I]feel[/I] it, as she can feel them grasping the heroes, step by step. They're patient and smart, she knows, for they're the manifestations of old feelings and old lives. An eternity of march wouldn't stop them, as long as it gave them the chance to dress once more the garments of life... Before she can warn them, their true nature becomes apparent. They reveal their stratagem, probably sensing the impending danger of discovery! They rise, floating a few inches above the floor, crying and moaning! Lyllie heard it so many times, this sick symphony of death and jealousy! So many times she tried to uncover hidden stories through their voices and their broken existences! But always, [I]always[/I], they resented her, even in her half-living state! Damn ghosts! EVERYONE The creatures rise their voices, empty eyes and decaying visages! Their bodies cover themselves with the marks of death, rotting away clothes and flesh! Bone exposes, and silks are rotten away! They become the very image of loss and sorrow, and hate rises from them, as if the wanted to take revenge on AAnzu's actions! Several cries jon theirs' on the mysts, their origins still unseen, and the heroes behold with dread and disgust the translucid shapes of the apparitions! [I][COLOR="#FF0000"][Ok, you may roll your actions in order of initiative, as usual! But, before you do that, please, give me a WIS resistance test - DC 13 Failure means the character is frightened for a minute. Remember, five or more on a failure takes age away, so... Be careful! Also, give me ONE TEST PER CHARACTER, not one per ghost! It'd make little sense to roll one by one, as far as I understand it.][/COLOR][/I] [MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=4936]Shayuri[/MENTION] [MENTION=6776182]JustinCase[/MENTION] [MENTION=23298]industrygothica[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855102]Greenmtn[/MENTION] [MENTION=8858]hafrogman[/MENTION] [/QUOTE]
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