The Grey Dust

Oh My Gods!

@WanderingSpirit

Make a deal with Zhystkrexas...
I think of all the gods he currently holds most influence.

Oh My Gods!

I'm still waiting for a full roster of gods so I can do my relations all at once XD

Also I've purposefully failed to mention the lesser gods as two are hiding, and the third doesn't actually tend to exist.

Oh My Gods!

Zhystkrexas has spoken.

The plot thickens.

Oh My Gods!

The Offer accepted. For such temptation could only have one outcome. The will was weak against the bite of hunger, even knowing full well the nature of the Corrupter, still they tried. He challenged them to challenge him, his ways gnawing at the insufferable pride within, gouging out and gorging out a throne of his own design. Inside the heart his maleficence, taking seed within the mind as the whisper of his voice. He was undeniable, for all kingdoms crumbled given enough time, no mortal or god could suffer his slow advances for they were their own! To refuse the desires of your nature, to deny the hunger that ate at you, it was not he that was the greatest enemy to overcome but your own damned self! And that was why amongst the gods it was he that was the most vilified and feared. Pleased with the deal cast in the assembly, the devourer reclined back into his macabre throne with a sinister smile. He presented her a choice, and she had no choice as it was he that presented it, his own power subtly displayed, his influence gripping the court which came to take their seats. The myriad of nobodies in the ranks and file, gods and lessers, pawns to entwine in his silk-wrapt contracts. Their powers to be his, the Maven of Deals, as so too would he call upon Silacetus.

"Where are your manners? Sit, Huladni, she has taken her place... You have yet to take yours... The longer you are here, the greater chance the Outsiders will breach..." A gesture at the crude seat. The biting words of Zhystkrexas pointing out the duties of the Essentials, his was to feast, and the caveman's was to guard. There was no love between them for as much as Huladni watched the stars for threats from beyond, he could not ignore the growing threat of Zhystkrexas eating away from the inside. A malignant cancer, spreading his influence out like a disease to one day be the death of the universe, but there was nothing that could be done to the parasitic Essential. He was just as crucial to the survival of all that was as he was as crucial to the destruction of it. Even Lorin had no certainty on the means to eliminate the Corrupter, and only knew the certainty that Zhystkrexas was the necessary evil. The other Essentials took their seats, or at least the proxy who was a man amongst giants. The Interpreter who made the thoughts of the the Stone known, was he as incorruptible as his master? Was it the god or the writer of his word that spoke the words of gods? And of course there was the River, predictably unpredictable, of little worry to the one who held the court like the apple in his palm.

"I believe enough of us Essentials have arrived to preside over this Assembly. Those of us who can spare the hours in abandoning our function... Hence we shall begin and the others who come late shall have their voices drowned in their own choices made." The announcement made by the self-appointed arbiter. Who would had the audacity to object? Long since had Zhystkrexas govern the gatherings, holding the keys to many lesser gods vying to take a place in the Pantheon. One such among them tried to best him, yes, there was the wretch coming in with the dog. His lesson learned no doubt of accepting a deal to challenge Zhystkrexas, the mortal life warped the god both physically and mentally no less. His suffering granted him nothing but humiliation and loss, nothing to be gained but the jeer of Zhystkrexas who denied him the seat from the cycle prior. But now the Essential needed a patsy to be used in the delegations of these precious seats. Cerpen would be the perfect sacrifice.

"I open the floor for nominations to the seat of Pantheon. First I, Zhystkrexas, nominate she who is already seated: Silacetus. Next, I, Zhystkrexas, offer to nominate Gudaboa the Seeker... should he accept the role of guiding the mortals grow in knowledge... Finally, I Zhystkrexas, shall nominate... Cerpen as Head of the Pantheon, per our wager... I shall honor the spirit of the bargain... Who desires to voice their... Rejections of my proposals?"

Ah yes, either way he wins. Silacetus was truly the only one he needed within the pantheon. And Gudaboa, well, the dog may find the motives of Zhystkrexas suspicious enough to doubt his own nomination. And Cerpen was a political move, one that would incite the Assembly to object surely as what pantheon could be lead by such a slobbering buffoon? The despot was the wriggling worm set to bait the lure, all that mattered now was who would bite him first?

Stretchers, Stethoscopes, and Scalpels: A Hospital RP

BLOOD BATH

Cold waters cascaded upon his body, the cool fluids breaking upon his shoulders as the rush of water descended from the spewing showerhead. Flowing down the wide expanse of shoulders, cut across half down his back, the other down his chest. His arms opened up to grasp his short chocolate hair, wetted fingers pulling back his temple to massage the cool sensation into his scalp. Running the digits back even more as his breath deepened at the pleasure of relief. The breaking waters rinsing down his forearms, dripping upon tiles as trails of water slid down his axilla before down his sides. His head thrown back into the running falls, the cold baptism washing away the day's work into the drain below. Eyes closed in bliss, bodywash squirted into the palms as the figure lathered up his chest, cleaning the scent of a long night from his body. Fingertips running across expanse, swiping to the left and right. The scrub spread across the body, as an anointment of the end of days. What luxury was a simple pour of water, splashing over and over, jetting the continual fountain. The squeaking of the tap, oh to want but a few moments more...

Cold and dripping, toweled then dried, wrapped around the waist to see the grey eyes staring at him. Elbows leaning against the counter, splashing the last kiss of water from the running faucet. Comb swept through his damp hair to resemble the form it did coming in, meticulously landscaped as he examined himself in the silver mirror. An edge of stubble, above the lips and on the chin, the growth of the hours passed away which would be trimmed away at his resident apartment only a stone's throw away from the hospital campus. Caduceus Memorial was a large institution, fully equipped with its own satellite hubs to form the medical block of Santa Cruz over the crossing of the two major roads. A powerhouse of science, healthcare and medicine on the West Coast, complete with its own medical education center and student-resident housing. And yet despite the billions invested into the constant upgrades the hospital sees, thousands pumped into service staff and doctor education, EMR revisions with imaging integration, and uncompensated patient care, all the research grant money could never buy the residents showers in the on-call rooms. So here he was on the 5th floor, preening himself over the mirror in the men's locker room. Each floor of the hospital had its own division, intricately designed and redesigned to provide excellence in patient care and logistics.

It was the vision of Jack Marshall that built the foundations, the man who's bronzed-cast face solemnly regards all visitors to main entrance. A state placed in memorium between the sliding glass gates to the outside world, and world he built, the founder resides embedded in the spirit of the hospital's entrance hall just before the main lobby. The engraved years of his life meaning far less than the lengthy paragraph of his plaque explaining who the man was to generations of patients, doctors, and visitors. From that entry point was the was main lobby, the center of the hospital with a grand atrium that stretched up the spiraling stairs the seven floors. The circular nature of the hospital was key to its design, a trinity of three wings placed in three of the four cardinal directions. The 6 floors of the West Wing was home to the internal medicine floors, two floors of general medicine, and four floors devoted to the common specialties. Floor 3 of the West Wing was ortho and PM&R, 4 housed nephro, urology, 5 was cardio and pulm, and 6 was strictly neurology. The East Wing was home to the Surgical services and Emergency department with direct access to the main roads for EMS to rush in sirens blazing. The ER receiving and Trauma bays were found on the ground floor of the mirrored East wing to triage patients as required, and the Pathology and inhouse Labs on the second floor for STAT access. Floor 3 of the East Wing was devoted to surgery holding two dozen Operating Rooms, with pre-op holding and PACU, 4 was OB/GYN for births and deliveries with their own ORs, 5 was the first ICU units divided into NICU-PICU, ICU and NeuroICU, and 6 housed the Surgical ICU. Combined these two wings on either side served as the power units of the hospital bridged together main pavilion which connected both sides to the heart of the hospital.

The Admin Pavilion, as the central building was called, was the place where the arts of surgery and medicine met, the ground floor being the elegant lobby for visitors to grander at the awe of Jack's Legacy. There was a small cafe to the side, a lounge with many chairs to relax, visitor's information desk next to the eight elevators which served all seven floors. These Eight Elevators served the main elevators to the hospital, although each wing had their own series of elevators as well as the volume of traffic and patient beds required at least eight elevators per building. A lush greenry and a garden was maintained in the lobby area, off towards the hallway into the East wing to give the illusion of a tranquil place despite the chaos of the ED just a few paces beyond the secured doors. Opposite the garden was the gift shop, as a place to give your loved ones a token gift to aid in their recovery at exorbitant prices but in a pinch a plush teddy bear was always a comfort to an ill patient. Visitors were allowed to enjoy the lobby, and even venture up to the second floor where the cafeteria was built, mingling staff and visitors alike in a public area. There was even an exercise gym stocked with weights and machines opposite the mess hall, and a interfaith chapel for spiritual and religious needs. The 3rd floor however was Observation, for patients not critically ill, and the 4th floor was devoted to technology and radiology department although the machines were found in the basement floor running beneath the hospital, 5th floor were the grand conference rooms for big presentations and administrative offices for legal and Records, the 6th floor was the administrative offices for PR, HR, R&D, and most important Finance.

And finally overlooking the hospital was 7th floor, where Jack Marshall's former office was, home to the board and leadership offices for the entire practice. And if one should look outside Jack Marshall's window, across the street overshadowing the Admin Pavilion was the 21-story building that emerged from the North. The North Tower was the clinic building for outpatient follow-up, organized by specialty, which served as the compliment to the hospital. Connected by a glass overpass on the send floor to the main hospital, cars cruising down the road which cut between the inpatient and outpatient grounds could see the many busy employees travelling through the walk way from their rounds to their clinics. Additional parking from the North Tower with the parking structure found on the North side. There was also a connection unseen by the underground, below the security, pharmacy administration and research division dungeon, two levels below both buildings a network of tunnels connected all the buildings composing the campus providing both patient and staff transport.

It was through these tunnels he could reach the resident apartments, finally reaching his little room to relax after the busy night. The medical students and residents were unfortunately not segregated by floors, although they ought to be given call schedules and study schedules, yet it mattered little to a man who could never sleep easy. His hours gave a tired pout to his appearance, nearly nineteen hours since he started, only now to be going home after his cold shower. He was the senior night float for the neurology floor, and they currently had thirty patients on the list. A mix of chronic and acute problems, and some psychosis no doubt he'll need a psych consult to accept to their end. It was a common joke for neurologists to become encephalopathic at the end of their day, and yet he still planned to trudge along, planning to go stay up a few hours until noon or so to stream something in bed before the insomnia finally died down. And of course the process repeats itself again at 1600, when his alarm goes off and he prepared to come back to the floors by the hour, seven days a week. This was the daily life of Dr. Zachary Sinclair MD.

Zach never complained about it, this was the standard life of a neurology resident, and this was his third year working under the thumb of all the attendings. He was expected by the department to be chief, if he could show a little more leadership beyond his impressive memory and dedication. He never was the type to take the center stage, his polite soft-spoken attitude made him seem far more passive than most. And he was okay with being the second man, judging himself in the mirror with a slight nod to the other man who came into the shared locker space who asked if he was calling it a day. But today was a special day, for the curse was invoked, a taboo as old as time by the will of the gods above. Do not take the blessing for granted, for such things can be easily remedied out of sheer spite.

CODE TRIAGE EXTERNAL - PREPARE FOR CASUALTIES - ALL AVAILABLE STAFF REPORT TO TRAUMA BAY

Announced twice more on the overhead, to the follow up of dozens of beeping pagers. Neurology had their own floors to worry about, and the team need to care for West Six, meaning that they were considered unavailable staff. The West Wing wouldn't be needed as they managed their floor patients, but the code being called sent the lockers into a frenzy, the bang of metal doors and swinging of doors. Surgeons, emergency doctors, nurses, and techs alike went to answer the call as was their duty. The reports were surely coming in from the dispatch to charge, the East Wing sent into a situation as OR's set on standby were frantically prepped for inbound trauma patients from the massive crash on 5. What triggered the accident? How the dominoes fell in place to create it all? Was it just normal Santa Cruz Traffic? Or was there something more? In a sense it was just like medicine to find the root cause of the problem, surgeons were more than happy to solve the problem blindly, but alas a neurologist wanted the source. An explanation for the findings, closure of the case before closure of the body.

"Bloody Balls Up." The Britishness of Zac, coming full colours, as he sighed and pulled up his scrubs drawers and knotted the drawstrings. Duty to serve, the oath to do all he could to save another human being. Scrub top thrown overhead, shoes stumbled into as he ran out the door toward the Trauma Bay which erupted into the usual chaos one would expect. White Coats standing around waiting for the wave of dying folks to cut into for the Trauma surgeons, and to resuscitate for the ED's, and to butcher for the Orthopods. "Neurology's here, team assignment?" Waving his badge to the charge nurse bracing for the massacre beyond those glass doors being fixed open by the security team. Waved off and directed by another nurse over to where Trauma team was on standby to assist in neuro checks and Glasgow's.

And the reports were already trickling in...

1) Pt - MVA - LOC - Possible Traumatic Brain Injury
2) Pt - MVA - AMS - Traumatic Chest Injury
3) Pt - MVA - HYPOvolemic - Laceration of RUE
4) Pt...

Oh My Gods!

We are still waiting for the Kingmaker I believe.

Zhystkrexas will call the assembly into order shortly.

--- "I believe enough of us Essentials have arrived to preside over this assembly. Those of us who can spare the hours in abandoning our function... Hence we shall begin and the others who come now shall have their voices drowned in their own choices made."

And yes, the ellipses are him taking a pause to munch on his apples. He still has to eat after all.

Oh My Gods!

@ScreenAcne

Sure thing, go ahead Thanks for asking but you're the GM here XD

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Thomas Richard Harrison

Location: The Tower Stairwell
Interacting With: Stairs!

---

A stairway to Heaven?
Or a highway to Hell?

The perfect choke point. Trickling in like lambs to the slaughterhouse, their formation did not bode well. The footing of the stairwell gave the enemy the high ground, and gods knows what below waiting for them. Maybe it was time to turn back? And yet it was too late, they were fully invested now, to go back would be just as much a labour as going over. Yet to wade in a river of blood was far easier than a sea of bodies. Ahead of him was Keystone, Satilla, and the furry behind of a Bear, giving the boy not much room to squeeze past and ascend the perilous stairs. Thus whatever chaos ensued above them would have to wait for now, until a break in the line and they all inched forward to their certain doom. Alas the true enemy were the stairs, capable of congesting all traffic into a room, sealing them off as all combatants rushed the stairwell as fast as possible. Halfway up now behind Keystone, waiting for the rest to move on out.

With only three spells left, Thomas would not be a too useful if there were more summons found above. Maybe they could strike the summoner down quickly and all would be well. Disappearing as the concentration broke by the caster, but then again this necromancer seemed far more dangerous than first thought. Summoning minions? More so than the mere undead at his disposal but infernal boars and evidently centipedes. Maybe they should ignore the smaller targets to focus on defeating the necrolord? Without the caster, most summons disappear back from whence they came. Each needed a conduit to materialize them after all, if they could take out the source...

Oh My Gods!

Is this still a thing?

Just checking if there was still interest here.
We need more gods

D&D 5e - Titan Hunters

"Lady Mavros, that is no way for a noble lady to conduct herself!" A stern and almost growling voice rang out across the dining table. Far more fatherly than the Duke, the sharp lash of a disappointed paternal figure rebuking a child having snuck off late at night only to return in a state of total inebriation. "Abdicated or not, I expect you of all people to take the defense of Mavros with the appropriate amount of gravity required. Now off to bed with you, I'll see to preparing tonight for the morning. I thank you for the dinner Lord Mavros, now to rest these old bones." One last swing of mead from his tankard of sobriety, and a final spoonful of lentil soup. A simple man with his meals, needing no luxury nor great amount at his senior appetite, Kethan ate his fill of the Hero's Feast, fortifying himself for the adventure to come tomorrow. They have set their destinations, as all the information pooled created each team's destination. Though as the old cleric dipped his hands in the washing bowls and waved off the servants waiting to take the wizened one's to his chambers, Kethan took a side venture into the garden to walk in the mountain air. Eyes cast up into the night, pondering the stars and heavens for answers as to why. This cataclysm could be easily solved by the powers above if it were an ordinary invasion, and yet...

"Ah, Miss Lonett of Caernath... Rest well." Kethan nodded as he passed the monster slayer on his way to the Stables. He knew not the codes for their destinations, they get changed every few years, and it has been sometime since Kethan traveled outside his library. That and Kethan's memory was beginning to decay. The ravages of time and the function of age, and while Ada may forget her foolishness tonight by the morrow, Kethan found himself losing his recollections. The magical band around his head kept his mind decent enough, yet it was merely a crutch, one that he needed more than the symbolic cane he used on his evening stroll into the stables. Giving the owlbear a cautionary look before walking slowly down the corridor to find an emptied stable. There was a good chance they would venture there by foot. Or rather in this case by whatever mechanism of travel they had. Many among them had a fine steed, but Kethan took the long scenic route, stopping by to enjoy the local favourites and recall his days. Alas nothing was quite like the memory of itself nowadays. The times have chanaged, a decade ago the younger Ada would never be so crass as to publicly intoxicate herself. Perhaps Kethan had misplaced his trust in the ancient elf to keep his 'niece' from trouble, especially with that troublemaker... Jamie was it? The one from this morning that looked shifty, yes he would need to keep a close eye on him, although Jamie wasn't the rascal's name... Was it?

"Good Evening, Zaphkiel." The cleric of Ioun tapped his staff against the ground. Once, twice, and finally a third time before the celestial light bathed him. From the light, the spirit summoned, named by the Elder to be called forth from the heavens. A spirit taking the form of a white winged horse, an old friend Zaphkiel, one of Ioun's own. "We have a long journey tomorrow, Caelmarth, rest well old friend. The most powerful spell a mortal could cast, bending reality in nearly anyways Kethan pleased, although this time merely summoning forth a trusted steed to undertake the journey to Caelmarth with. The swift wings of his celestial mount would take Kethan there faster, although the others would have to find their own rides most likely. With his preparations complete, and a good bit of walking done to keep his joints loose and limber to keep up with the youth, Kethan finally entered his chambers, a comfort of bed and luxury. To refuse such down was to reject the bowl of lentils, thus such finery provided found itself carrying the weight of a sleeping old man. Uttering his prayers in the night in preparation to purge the undead alongside great heroes of legend.

Oh and something to cure Ada's possible hangover.

mechanics

Kethan Casts Wish: Duplicating Spell - Find Greater Steed.
Greater Steed: Koppatiai - Celestial Pegasus