Vertigo

Rerun: Blackguards!

Wraith was very much intending to kill him, yeah. But I mean, just 'cause he's dead doesn't mean we can't still talk to/interrogate/bully him; we do have a necromancer, after all. B)

Symphony on High

💀

20 | Female | Maverick Alternative | So(ME)thing On Your Mind
Kiss & Make Up | Handgun | Physical | We Are But Dust and Shadow
Hellspawn | Streetside Devil
Friends on the Other Side | Shadow | Abyssus Abyssum Invocat
[Obfuscate, Intangible] Damage X (6), Restrain (4), Blink (4), Minor Heal (2), Summon (4), Enhance (2), Powerful (0), Homing (2), Avoid (2), AoE (2), Bend (0), Construction (4)

DAMAGE: B | SPEED: C | SENTINEL: E | 1000

PHYSICAL: D | ARCANE: D | CHAOS: E | 784

Man, the briefing wasn't kidding. This guy really was a wuss.

Ciri was already annoyed by the flighty lizard before he turned around and busted through a solid wall; being left in both literal and figurative dust in her target's wake made her furious. That's what she got for trying to be nice? And after she'd come up with such a punny greeting, too! Seriously, the hell, some people had no tact.

Cursing under her breath, Ciri wiped dust and debris from her face and hair, narrowed eyes scanning for the escaped target with a frustrated desperation. If she failed her first mission in a while, she was never going to hear the fucking end of it — and she was not about to be assigned more fucking paperwork. So where was that piss-coloured lizardfac—

There. Getting to his feet and making for a staircase leading upstairs. Probably trying to get to the roof so he could transform and fly away. Or maybe not. Who knew what went on in his head, if anything. But whatever he was planning to do, she was going to foil it.

With a flick of her wrist, she guided her gorilla to the outer wall of the building and hopped onto its shoulders, wordlessly commanding it to scale up the side of the hotel. She had no doubt it was faster than a panicked dragon stumbling up some stairs, and could probably overtake the guy. Then all she needed was any kind of entrance; a window, an emergency exit, anything to bust in through and tackle the dragon to the ground. Hell, they'd break through a window to one of the guest rooms if they had to. Give the rich fucks inside something to cry about while at it. She could always just phase through the wall, too, but she preferred to conserve her mana for now. She'd need it to pummel her quarry.

As for It, stirring, impatient, she nodded towards the hole left in the wall. Someone had to make sure the dragon didn't just turn around or slip out of their sight into one of the rooms while they were climbing. They needed someone on its tail. They needed a hound.

She thought her instructions more than said them, connected to her partner beyond language. But the idea could very well be summed up as: "Fetch."

Epyllion: Beyond Moonlight's Reach

Fellwing will probably stalk after Garrock, her Skobe scheming senses are tingling.

And by tingling I mean blaring red alarms.

Rerun: Blackguards!

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The living corpse among them — or one of the two, anyhow, there was also a man with half a face missing — didn't seem to take kindly to Wraith's words. The halfling watched, amused, as the woman fixed him with a glare and a gesture often used to belittle his kind. With a small smile, Wraith formed a heart with his own hands in turn; a gesture he was sure no one had given her before.

Somewhere far away, he could make out the stampede of dozens of feet and hooves, nearing. Wraith was just about to turn his gaze away from the ghastly woman, when she stole back his attention — by screaming. It was an unholy, blood curdling, bone shattering wail. Wraith hunched, holding his ears. By all the gods holy and not, if he'd known she'd react like this, he would've held back on the gesturing!

... Kidding. He knew what her goal was, and knew she'd succeeded even without looking up to see what'd come of the incoming barbarians. Even one of their own fainted, and Wraith contemplated, for a stray moment, picking his pockets clean for it. It would've been an opportune time, and he doubted he would've been caught besides; after all, half their group was quickly turning out to be just as barbaric as the horde charging them.

Not all of them, though. The giant, of all people, attempted to hold the others back for what Wraith assumed was a negotiation, and then there was—

Wraith's eyes narrowed as he trailed an elf with strikingly blue eyes. She kept her distance and, with a little magic, alerted them of a party of Sulfreyan riders. Something about her, about the grimoire she held so close, reminded Wraith of the wizards of his past. He felt an urge, sudden and burning, to put a dagger through that tome.

... But for now, the tome called forth lightning, and the lightning burned to crisp their enemies, so he stayed his hand. He had to admit, much to his chagrin, that in a situation that called for mass destruction, magic was quite useful after all. Wraith himself was never a tool to be used on the masses; he couldn't stop a raging horde with a scream, or a chain of magical words. What he excelled at was the complete opposite of the situation they found themselves in now; picking a target, one target, and striking once.

He looked back to the skies.

Sulfreyans weren't fueled by bloodlust and hunger like barbarians. They were an organized lot, with a leader to command them. Underneath his cloak, Wraith gripped his dagger, searching for a leader somewhere in the sky, past the wall of fire and among the storm. If he were to spot someone fitting that description, he'd let loose his dagger — and it would find its target, he knew, before returning to him.

Or, if his trigger-happy companions killed everyone before he could, well, he supposed that'd work, too.

Either way, he took a few steps away from the group and disappeared from sight, lest someone on the opposing side get the bright idea to drop magic on their tightly grouped lot.

Rerun: Blackguards!

Post is almost done, though it's right now that I realize I forgot a bow and arrows from his inventory, oop.

Well, I did imagine the magical dagger could be used for throwing (and automatically returning) but that does make for a pretty funny mental image for this.

Will yoink a bow from one of the corpses later.

Rerun: Blackguards!

I'll wait for @Vertigo before posting!

@Red Wizard

On it today after work 🫡

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

Planning on a Grave Cleric Goblin atm, just need to do a few posts first and read through all the faction info more thoroughly, definitely want to get in on all that.

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

It... it says "Apply", so there's still... room?

SPIRITUM

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Kalina had a point, Silje realized, much to her shock and dismay. The clothes she was wearing now, ill-fitting and dirty, would hardly impress anyone! She'd heard uniforms were a big deal before, too; as in, some people had a thing for them. Whatever thing meant.

Had she packed her uniform? Did she still have time to change? An unfamiliar yelp from the back — where Silje had left all her stuff — indicated that no, no she did not. The princess must've already been on board.

And so was everyone else, faster than she could blink. Val practically inserted herself into Silje's seat, with no concern for the sacred concept of finders keepers. Or was it first come, first served? Or—

"Whoa!" Kali hit the gas, and Silje had to scramble to glue herself to the side of the truck before they swerved away from the crater and their pursuers — and right into an assault from above. It was heralded by a metallic sound so intense that it seemed to resonate within Silje's very skull, rattling her already unstable mind to a point that teetered on dangerous. Whatever was above them wasn't normal. Wasn't right.

One eye still closed from the throbbing pain, Silje made her way back atop the truck where she usually sat, witnessing from a front row seat how robots rained from the sky. Or from a huge ship in the sky, rather.

Then things went boom, and not by her hand. That was the final straw; if they died here, she'd never win over the princess.

Morden had the right idea, because it was also Silje's idea, and her idea was to retaliate. As Kali hit the gas, Val sped up their vehicle and Morden started shooting the robots before they could catch up, Silje focused her sights on the ship. She held out a hand, gathering mist from the very air that passed through her fingers as they drove faster and faster.

If the ship aimed for them, or if there was to be any more lightning or any of that stuff, she'd counter it with a blast of her own, hopefully moving the resulting explosion mid-air and away from them. Cover fire! Except really very literal.

Epyllion: Beyond Moonlight's Reach

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Before Fellwing noticed it, she was smiling at Garrock's reaction. Careful and a little surprised, but glad her little quip was so well-received nonetheless. It was such a big difference from the way Garrock had acted on the island, really driving home how worried he must've been back then. Who knew, perhaps she and the older drake could get along yet!

... But not well enough for a conversation like this, she thought in horror the second Garrock continued, hinting at an ongoing sorespot between him and his sibling. 'A favor' on its own didn't sound too ominous, but the way Garrock said it, she knew she had to tread carefully so as to not make things worse. There was clearly layers upon layers of hurt to uncover, and Fellwing didn't quite believe she was the right drake to do it. Not unless she wanted to make the older drake privy to some of her own skeletons, at least.

Fellwing fell silent, trying to figure out what to say, how much to reveal, and how many steps was it to the door in case she decided to just— Oh. Skobe?

It was indeed him, quietly observing them from the doorway. Garrock must've not noticed him. Fellwing shifted uncomfortably; if he was here, there was no way she could say anything about her family. Not in front of her clutch. Coaxing anything out of Garrock within earshot of someone else he wasn't aware of would've felt wrong, too.

So she settled to just standing there, awkward and stiff, hoping Garrock would take her silence as her offering respectful condolences in his trying time.

All the while wishing she'd crashed on the flight here.