Fetzen

The Five Senses

Týfurkh

_{@Pezz570@13org@Jerkchicken@HokumPocus@Typical}

Týfurkh was both surprised and, of course, glad that Chres had managed to get out of the way before he'd have bumped into the other man at the speed they had been running through the corridor. However he was less than happy about the woman they encountered. Týfurkh couldn't help but only describe her as a truly new kind of enemy. Her magic technique, with the horn and strings in one hand and the clarinet-violin-hybrid in the other, appeared to be a member of the bewildering array of things the Nation Of Hearing had come up with so far, but Týfurkh himself was a practitioner of hearing and such had a quite good idea about said array of things. These contraptions were not a part of it, this had to be something different!

That would only make the task of dealing with her harder. Enemies one had no idea about were probably the most dangerous of all, so they had to be careful. The giant man therefore opted against what would probably have been the most immediate method of attack and did not start to draw the vastly smaller woman in a melee, but instead aimed his crossbow at her in a rapid move. Just before pulling the trigger thouch he touched the bolt gently, charging it with vibrations so small in amplitude one could only see them on close range, but so frequent that they were very powerful still.

Then Týfurkh released the bolt, sending it on its way towards the woman's chest. He truly did not know what would come out of this, but any ordinary person without much armor and without adequate protective magic would probably burst into a cloud of red matter. A cloud large enough to hamper his and his companion's visions, but even more so the vision of those archers standing closer to its point of origin.

Bronze Castle's Spikes

Fyr

The demon was used to loud noises from the hell he had been ripped out of, but the inhabitants of that place seldomly were so... croaky. The moment the harpy showed up and presented her kind of voice, Fyr already wished for the much more dark, thunderous and guttural tones of the other demons he had come to know in his past. They would have been more relaxing to hear for sure. However the way the harpy had bumped into the glass window made was good enough for a nice laugh which Fyr did not hesitate to release on the spot.

The message was far less amusing though. Enemies on the way ? That meant they'd had both to hurry and to stay there even after the initial task had been completed. Anything else wouldn't make much sense if the farm was overrun by hostiles just a few hours later and hopefully his companions would come to the same conclusion by themselves.

And then of course there was the jungle. Softer ground and small feet were not a good combination if one had shaped one's magic into the kind of incredibly dense package of a body Fyr had. He was digging deep into the ground with every step, thereby having to waste a lot of energy just to keep up with the others who didn't have to make that many steps in the first place. On the plus side of things he had not yet heard any jokes about his slight chubbyness and, unlike some others, he did hardly have to crouch, duck or crane his neck in order to get his head into an adequate position for talking to the kobold on halfway equal terms!

"I don't like to speak of the devil, but I think that some degree of haste is in order. As far as we know enemies are on the way, so what's the issue now ?"

The Black Prophecy (Dead now; requiescat in pace!)

Vaught

_{Early Spring of the Year 315 P.F}

The Greatwood had a reputation for being so dark, cold and fearsome around its heart that the latter had never actually been explored by any scholars, but those who actually lived in its vicinity knew that around its vast core there was a layer of, though pretty relative, harmlessness. Well, at least as harmless as a seemingly neverending and increasingly impassable forest could appear to a humble man's eye. There were not only crows, wolves, bears and owls, but also the more lower ranking proxies of the food chain had a chance to thrive in those intermediate areas for there was no lack of caverns, tall trees and other hideouts.

There was no way to hide from absurdities one had already seen though, no way to just remove them from one's memory. It was even worse with one's instincts and so the crows had set for the skies, wolves had fled from the the small mountain and down into the valley and the bears had sought refuge in the depths of their dens. They all could smell a scent that should not be here, that had not been here for many centuries, but which triggered certain instincts that had formed in these past times. The winds were carrying foul air and that was not only because there were several carcasses rotting on the top of the hill. Something was very wrong here.

Something also crashed into the many trees and bushes growing on the slopes of said hill, releasing a substantial amount of torn off leaves into the air while cracking many branches according to what it sounded like. It was no avalanche going off for those simply were impossible here, also it was not a stone falling from the heavens above as some people claimed would happen from time to time. It was just yet another failure.

Would he ever manage not to hurt himself greatly a few seconds after the leap ? It had done this just so many times before that Vaught, though he'd probably not admit it, was slowly growing a little desperate. Was there not enough muscle driving those wings, were they too small, carrying too much of a burden or, just maybe, was the whole thought of this creature having flown once nothing but a big misconception ? It was hard to tell if all one had was a skeleton of old age with none of the more soft inner workings left over by the maggots. That was also the reason why he was still struggling with yet another problem that made the whole affair of testing a painful and slow affair.

Some of his sinews were either too short or not elastic enough. Every time Vaught tried to make full use of the outer joints on his wings a great amount of pain started to surge. It felt like he could not even align them properly for a simple glide downhill. Maybe he should try to carefully cut his own skin open to have a more direct look at what was going wrong ? The thought was grotesque, but if not overdone the procedure could work. Only perhaps, of course. Figuring out a human body suitable for the pits had taken years, but even though returning to it was pretty easy, it also was limited. This creature appeared to be so much more promising, so it felt definitely worth to fill the gaps in knowledge with sheer creativity. Still, not having a living sample hurt a lot quite literally. It had died long ago, most likely slain by the brave men worshippping the Exalted One.

What would the people of today say if they'd see a monster from the past circling over their villages like a vulture waiting for something to eat ? Agreed, the monster in question was not exactly big compared to what one could imagine, but still... The expression on their faces! The fear, the screams and the desperate attempts to run from death and hide in their wooden houses! It all felt so worthwhile in Vaught's bare imagination already that he would continue on his current way even if it would take him another few years to reach a level that was nothing but satisfaction.

He would hunt down those villagers. If not from the air, then on the ground! There were so many issues he had already solved... The potentially lethal ones like a heart too small at first, then things like the proper arrangement of the teeth, the correct composition of his claws or the correct size of his ears so he would neither be shocked by the most humble of sounds nor just barely be able to hear at all. Ultimately he had even started to tackle problems one could consider to be luxury like the color of his skin, for example. However, for a real test and further progress, he felt in need for more than just the animals around here. Nothing could replace real intelligence and the ability to wield some sharp steel like humans could.

It was time the hunting party would see him again, but this time in the opposite role and without even knowing that it was him who was after them...

The Witcher: Under the Shadow

So, if I am to revive this, would someone like to be co-GM?

@POOHEAD189

I've not really done this before, but if you think I could be of more help than I could inject chaos into things I'd be glad to do so.

The Blackwood

Rollcall. Who other than Stormy and JB (who have posted recently) are still here and interested?

@POOHEAD189

I have posted recently, too.

The Blackwood

The words Seeing as you're not human, I'll give you another chance to try that again. had been engraving themselves into the Skayleigh's memory well past the point where one could get rid of them easily. It had only been the gentle embrace of sleep that had finally liberated Arden from the firm conviction that not he, but his entire kind was not liked here at least by some people who unfortunately seemed to be the more important ones. And, of course, that liberation only lasted as long as his steady slumber.

The sight of Leder would have been a pleasant one for the boy seemed to be quite okay and not sharing the attitude of the place he was working for, but he held a hammer! And he slammed that hammer against a barn door whose sheer size and flatness only greatly amplified the banging sound of that tool! It indeed was this and not the gentle placement of Arden's breakfast that forced the half-giant to reenter the state of complete consciousness in much more of a hurry than he liked.

The Skayleigh blinked repeatedly, pushing up his upper body from the pile of hay he had rested on in order to look at what was happening more easily. A few rays of sun found their way into the barn and blinded one of his eyes. "What... are you doing ?" he asked, his voice now not only chesty, but slow and unstable. Leder would be able to witness what it meant to have a groggy Skayleigh around -- Arden currently gave a quite good presentation of that.

Moaning slightly, the giant figure on the haystack turned away the blanket and got back up on its feed. He had not busied himself with taking off all of his clothes the day before, so at least he didn't have to put all that stuff back on at the vastly inefficient speed he could provide right now. Still, for someone who had and still was traveling pretty much on his own for so long, getting up in front of unfamiliar eyes was an odd feeling.

With his eyes slowly adapting to the incoming sunlight, Arden trudged towards the barn door with the parchment at a snail's pace. He tried to read it while Leder was still putting in the last nail. "Hey, erm... Leder ? May I ask you if you know where I need to go for this ? I mean... to accept the offering ? Or where to get the two men to should I find them, or their bodies, if... You know ?"

Bronze Castle's Spikes

There was a rather small looking figure standing in front of the counter, its head barely situated high up enough to see what was lying where on the counter comfortably. A reddish, leathery looking hand reached for the piece of parchment. The style those humans, kobolds and whatever they called themselves employed to put down their words had not lost its weirdness towards Fyr ever since he had seen it for the first time, and still the demon was convinced that he would be able to teach them a more efficient one. If they'd only listen...

So a peasant needed help ? Fyr looked at the piece of bread in his hands he had just taken another bite off. Maybe they'd be able to get some particularly fresh one there if they'd do a good job ? The only problem was that the request was hopelessly unspecific, not stating any vital detail about the problem at hand. It could be a simple, boring one-man job or something that'd require a dozen elite warriors.

"I'd wish they'd do a better job at preparing those requests..." Fyr commented, sighing. "So, any takers ? If so, consider myself a companion for this."

The demon let go of a less than subtle grin. He knew that not everybody liked him. Some didn't by default, others only when he had pulled something off again that was flat-out wrong in their eyes. Fyr took another bite, then decided to stuff the humble remainder of the bread right into his mouth as well.

"Does anybody know how far this farm is away from us ?"

The Blackwood

Hello friends. Some sad news is, well...my grandfather just passed away this new years eve, and new years weekend I am moving, and the next week I will be in Florida for my grandfather's funeral. So it might be a hot second before I can post anything else. But once I am back, I'll do a roll call and see if everyone here is still interested.

@POOHEAD189

As I've already stated in a PM I'm really sorry that such a bad thing happened to you. And, as you probably already know, I can be quite slow RP-wise myself, so even if I would not keep saying that real-life always comes first I'd still not be the guy to tell you to do anything sooner somehow.

Take whatever time you need! I'll be here and reply once I've gotten over my current illness.

Bronze Castle's Spikes

Name: Fyr

Race: Demon

Age: 33

Sex: Male

Appearance:

Fyr's about 162cm tall and of above-average muscularity, but feasting and drinking have caused a noticeable amount of fat to accumulate around his waistline as well. His black hair reaches well past his shoulders and is one big and unkempt mess he seems to be almost as proud of as of his wound horns. The latter don't appear to be made of keratine, but of some kind of much more mechanically stable compound. Those few people who had the opportunity to touch them even claim that they'd feel a bit metallic. His skin is of a reddish complexion all over his body and feels more like leather than anything else. A look on his nacked back would reveal quite an assortment of long scars.


Personality: Most people might associate hell with nothing but terror, so it comes all the more as a surprise to them that Fyr actually is not the kind of savage killer addicted to cruelty they might expect. On the contrary Fyr tends to be friendly, sometimes even jovial. Despite all the threats surrounding it and all the hardships of survival it brings with it, Castle Bronze actually is the best thing that has happened in Fyr's life so far. His thankfulness not only comes from him realizing that it's advisable, but from heart -- as much as a demon can have such, that is.

However Fyr also likes to enjoy himself, feasting and drinking when there's the right opportunity and pulling harmless pranks on people to get over a hangover. Overall the process of socialization with the castle's inhabitants goes along well, but still not to the degree he and the people around him might prefer for he still knows little about the social customs of this world's inhabitants.

In combat, Fyr presents himself as determined and nasty. He treats his present enemies the same way he treated his past enemies, just with more experience.


History: The forest around Bronze Castle is large and diverse, and so are the creatures and individuals living in there. Not everyone is turned down by initial failure, not everyone lacks the optimism and dedication required to pull through with a delicate piece of magic and not everyone is afraid of the darker things possible.

It was a dark and thunderous night when Fyr was ripped out of hell and tossed into the mundane world, summoned by ritualists who had spent months on their effort to obtain some 'help' for their own tribe. Their belief was that they had targeted the spell right and only summoned one of the lesser, more docile inhabitants of hell whom could be controlled and used for their own purpose. Ignite that campfire here, cast a levitation spell onto that brutally heavy stone there, do this, do that...

Admitted, at first Fyr did indeed not even realize that he was effectively being enslaved, simply because that kind of treatment was not so different from what the small demon had been experiencing in hell for years. However now he saw something he had not seen before: People walking around without someone else lashing them into a certain direction, people just doing what thy wanted to do... freedom. He struggled with his unfamiliarity with the world, but still the desire rose quickly to obtain this freedom for it just felt so much better.

Fyr had not killed before for he simply had been under constant supervision by beings much more capable than him, but the latter didn't hold true for those... whatever those two-legged creatures were. He burned them, impaled their chests with wooden stakes or just outright bashed their heads with whatever happened to lie around. Years of hard labor had hardened him and taught him to adapt so he proved ready. Luckily the Bronze Castle's guards didn't kill him when he arrived at their gate in rugged clothes and with hardly any food left.

There was only one thing of significance he had on his body: a small, golden needle piercing through his left ear. It was, and still is, the only possession that the summoners had brought out of hell along with him. Just like its origin it seems to defy the laws of nature from time to time and grants the same thing to its owner.


Equipment:

• Simple linen clothing, more gray than white and intended for everyday use.
• Leather armor adapted to his small size.
• Crossbow: A donation to him since he wanted to learn it, but he's not made much progress with that so far.

Spike:

Spike Name: Horizon Travel
Spike description: A small needle of golden color, yet apparently made of an incredibly much stronger material. There's no decoration on it for the only thing that's not the needle itself is a pair of tiny barbs obviously there to prevent the trinket from detaching from whatever it has been pricked through.
Spike theme: Horizontal travel, even under circumstances that would not allow for it otherwise. It's ought to be damn useful in a place with many lava streams and impassable rifts.
Spike ability:

• Upon activation, the spike instantly redirects the bearer's momentum to a line horizontal with respect to the ground. The then horizontal momentum is unchangeably maintained until the bearer can or does not want to maintain it further or an obstacle is encountered. In the latter case the same kind of impact occurs as it would have occurred without using the spike at all when colliding, including any negative consequences for the spike's user. The redirection of the user's current momentum to the horizontal results in similar effects should the current momentum greatly differ from the horizontal momentum.
• The spike can also be used onto another person, working exactly like it would on oneself. In that case the affected indidual needs to maintain the effect as well and its stamina is drained in the same manner.

It should be mentioned that collissions with other objects can be induced by the spike's user or the other person affect by it intentionally by just grabbing them if they happen to be in reach, thereby causing a controlled stop.

Personal ability:

• Fyr's a demon. He has much, much less trouble with wielding magic in a much more instant manner and thus is able to use it even in a fight. However that doesn't automatically make him the pinnacle of wizardry, for every spell's formation still needs to be learned and that is something none of his former masters cared much about. Therefore his repertoire is effective, but also rather basic.
• Resilience: Fyr might not look like much, but he's made sure that all that condensed magic has been put to good physical use by implementing bones and horns significantly reinforced with metallic minerals and by packing his sinews and muscles tighter and sturdier. The good side of things ? He can survive bone-breaking and flesh-tearing events a lot easier than others. The bad side of things ? A well placed stab wound to the heart will still kill him and so would large bloodloss or similar things. Also he's a brutally heavy boy.
• Strength: He's a demon, and albeit he's by far not the largest he's still a lot stronger than he looks like and can easily keep up with much, much larger humans, elves or other individuals. However it is all raw strength, meaning that he simply lacks the skill required in order to put it to effective use in combat. He's probably a brutal tavern brawler, but can be happy to know which side of a sword not to use for holding it.

Nightfall: A Dark Fantasy Adventure

I'm interested, however I feel obliged to give out an advance warning about me not being familiar with tabletop. If that's too much of an issue I'd completely understand!