May 2012 Post of the Month Nomination Thread

[Nimlos]

This is it, the place to post your nominations for the best post on DnD Online Games for May 2012.

Please review the REVISED rules for the competition and post your nominations accordingly.

Ineligible Members The following members are ineligible for this month's competition: Judges Nimlos Chronicler HenryLockwood Previous 2012 PotM Winners January - TheChuck February - mad_gondsman March - FadingEcho April - Tangler

Now, show us who did the best work in May!

This thread will be closed on June 1.

[sammichweasel]

AximusLokar - Clockwork Imperium
Link

The team, being chased by a swarm of mechanized pixies before they've even received their first real mission after being pardoned from death row, were running into various obstacles through the steampunk/magicka city of Undercloud. Their vehicle, a busted Model T-esque contraption now being pulled by a clockwork dog made of shadows, had entered a stretched time field where they could interact with themselves in an effort to thwart their pursuers.

Axi took the idea and ran with it, deciding paradox weren't no thing, and came up with one of my favorite actions in a game. So...

 

AximusLokar Koth stared as a windy full of Winifreds passed them by. How is that even possi- The thought cut off as he realized he was riding in a magi-technological reproduction of his barrier-field tech infused canine construct being chased by a swarm of bloodthirsty, literally, mechanical pixies inside of a time-dilation field. Impossible had left the building three blocks ago. Ok then, abandon classic limitations of reality. I have access to myself over an unknown number of iterations. What can I accomplish with this... After a moment the plan clicked, and he looked up. Arrayed around him he saw five other windies with five other Koths looking towards him, each nodding once. He didn't bother to lay out the plan. Each knew their part, because each was him and he knew his part and what he would have to do later. In his hand formed a small sphere, the same one he had used to temporarily restrain one of those creatures earlier. He knew that a mere six spheres was insufficient to handle the swarm, but that wasn't the plan. He let the sphere drifts outward, and five other spheres met it at the center-point. Their energy, the same energy, combined and grew. Each Koth focused on a single aspect of the massive mental equation required. Koth- Field Structure Phase one morphic field, doesn't need to move on a centralized point. Lower energy required...rapid expansion...four-second delay...collapse vector...set! Koth- Targetting Different swarm sizes. They aren't gaining new constructs so logically the swarms with lower numbers are a result of out actions, and thus the smallest swarm is the one immediately prior to our escape from this time field. Now where are you... Koth- Power Control Goddamnit did I seriously take THIS long just to calculate that mass barrier-field equation?! --Koth Prime - Execution-- After several incredibly draining moments the tiny sphere stabilized, he felt the final mental click as the structure equation finalized, and the Koth responsible for finding the optimal target shouted out a direction. Well that makes sense. The smallest swarm would be the one that's seen the most action... With a final mental push the sphere shot towards it, and as it approached it expanded exponentially until the entire swarm was contained. Several pixies crashed into the side, some collapsing and a few piercing through. After a four second delay the sphere shrunk, crushing several more in the process before the remaining constructs managed to break through. Skill Perception(+2) + Shielding Cube(+3) + Cumulative Success(+6) - Cumulative Failure(-2) = +9 vs DC16 Dice * Perception +9 vs DC16 Back I Say: 1d20+9 (14)+9 Total = 23 This is the plan I wanted to use with Intelligence, but I found a way to work it with Perception.

[CalynCorr]

Horatio's writing is consistently superb, and this is no exception. He’s being led by a guide (Kael) into an underground city which is magically hidden such that one must get “lost” to find it. This city is accessed by the sewers. The guide has opted to blindfold both himself and Horatio's PC, Wynn, so that they can get lost faster.

Post in Thread

 

Originally Posted by Horatio

[Mal Radagast]

This is from kingmonkey's most excellent diceless roleplaying game. It's rather like chess that way - easy to learn, difficult to master. Kingmonkey has cunningly allowed us only certain knowledges about our characters, which unfold over time.

The post in question concerns Joey - a boy of, what, twelve?, with either an older mind locked inside, or else the memories of being older, only...he's not. Joey has an advanced medical knowledge...somewhere...with only a boy's ability to access or understand it. Another character - Grey - has discovered a certain familiarity with magics, and a third - whom the boy calls Granny, somewhat to the old lady's ire - has had her arm crunched pretty badly, and for a while now. It's been bothering Joey for ages, and he's only just connected these dots - his knowledge, plus Grey's magic. The endearing young lad is now trying to tell them about his realization, with his characteristic overenthusiasm.

This complex and masterfully subtle performance has been crafted by cyranojoe, who know doubt has a bit of Joey locked inside somewhere, himself.

 

Kitchen? What kitchen? Who cares about the kitchen when you've had a transcendental epiphany?!!

"Grey Grey Grey Grey! Granny GrannyGrannyGran!! GREYYYY!!!" Twirling back at rocket speeds, Joey bursts back into the room with an almost utterly inarticulate explosion of words and waving arms. "Com'ere com'on Greyougottaelp Igottanideacheckitout! 'Generation an' resterium an' fibbolasts!! You can see 'em yeah so you make'em work ferGrannynow!!!" By now, he's burst through the room and Roll for Grapple?gotten ahold of the oddly-melatonin'ed member of their party. "Autonomic processy takes a long time, s'why we heal and it's awesome but it takes a long time yeah? so you c'n use yer eyes an' whatever you use ta see things with an' you c'n see inside Granny Eve! Get it? Com'on com'on! Granny Granny Granny!"

Joey drags Grey over to their violet-eyed near-invalid, and points. "See? See? You use yer magic-lookin' ta find that pecursor cells, that's by the periosteum. No! The PRE-cursor cells. They is generating and turnin' inta stuff that makes it so's you can heal bones. You see 'em, an' you use yer magicky dealy to make 'em do their thing faster. Only, you gotta make sure you do it with the right cells. The precursors, ya gotta find 'em and make sure they're what yer workin' with."

Joey pauses, expectant, waiting.

Waiting.

Not waiting: "Com'on! Do you see 'em? Do you see??"

[saratek187]

Withdrawn

[RonarsCorruption]

Reviving any game isn't easy. Let alone an award-winning year-hiatus game like Perimiter... But Birched is trying, and the sheer amount of content within it is amazing.

This is where Birched summarized the first half of the seventh chapter for the players, so everyone could remember what was going on when they restarted.

 

Originally Posted by Birched

Rains 16, Southmaren

Tory, looking for all the world like a vagrant, meets Marcus and his dog, Buster, who resemble a pair of long out-of-touch forest hermits. Together, they are like the 'before' picture in an ad for a bathhouse that enjoys a challenge. If you add Marcus' weapons to the picture, one would be quite understandable in fearing an imminent barbarian pillage.

After an initial exchange during which Marcus tells Tory that the town is besieged by 'bug golems' and hints of the 'spark of Garat' he carries with him (but which is of no direct use at all to Tory), the ranger decides that the wanderer is safe enough and calls out his companions: a quartet of priests of Garat, including Southmaren's High Priest Lorel Quand (the three others are Bayr, Helga, and Delv). They explain that there are few survivors in town, and that they are headed towards the west gate to try to assemble with other survivors and perhaps fight back. All these Garat worshippers don't make Tory comfortable, but he sees no point in running from them.

At the West gate, they look for supplies (lamp oil, mostly) and survivors. Bayr, one of the priests, mocks Tory whenever an opportunity arises. Lorel Quand tells the story of the initial attack, which consisted of a couple of dozen attackers (some kind of golem equipped with torches) that tore into down in the pre-dawn hours and wreaked havoc. Around dawn, there was a pause, and then another massive attack - this time by many more creatures. At this point it is afternoon, and pretty quiet.

Tory is quick to decide to try to lure one of the beasts out, and he goes to do so. Marcus plans an ambush with the four priests. But Tory 'over-achieves', and pulls out more than they bargained for. They kill some golems, but both Helga and Delv lose their lives as well. A fire set by the four survivors to trap a couple of golems is spreading as another priest, Ardent, shows up. He leads them away from the fire and up the lake front, to a group of refugees. Marcus bathes. During the night the larger group is found and attacked by one of the golems; a woman recognizes the thing's head as having come from her 7 year-old son.

Rains 17, outside Southmaren

In the morning they set out towards the capital (Rane) for help - a distance that requires four days to travel. The night after their first day's hike, Blane shows up coming in the other direction (accompanied by two women). As Lorel talks to Blane, he pieces together the story. It is a tale of an ancient destructive magic that seems to have been reborn in an unexpected form. A recounting of their citizens and loved ones being killed and their corpses reused to create patchwork monsters, and the destruction of a good sized town.

The approach of Blane brings with it a connection to Varil for Tory.

Blane and Marcus catch up on their journeys since the battle outside the Northern Safehouse. Marcus tells of his blind journey north, the return of his sight, and the recent events in Southmaren. Blane recounts the story of his journey to Song, the trip through the Shadowlands to Fairwinds, and the long way back. And Blane tells of the disappearance of Nia, and the loss of Ghoson. Also, Blane says that there are soldiers coming south from Rane to defend Southmaren.

Soon after their meeting, Marcus attempts a bolstering speech to the refugees but is interrupted by an advocate of the new god (Kuring Sandson), who invites people to give up on Varil and Garat and embrace change. They have an exchange which culminates in Marcus displaying the transformation of his head into that of a wolf. Marcus faces down the outspoken man, and after separating him from the group asks some questions. The challenger says the new god's name is Laceris, and shows an insect tail symbol; one that is familiar to the warders (it resembles those Blane collected on his trip to the tower.) At that point Aullia (she arrived with Blane, and before that from another place entirely) interrupts the conversation with a strong proclamation about the danger of the path they are on, and that it has all happened before, and an odd statement: "You'll never be free of that poison, and you'll never be able to do more than your simple cures."

Kuring speaks of a priest, Eibor Kurush, who approached him and told him that his god (Laceris) had spoken to him and revealed that Varil was gone for good. And that Laceris was going to fix things up. The priest demonstrated that he had divine magic at his disposal, and offered Kuring the ability to heal others again. This was in potion form -- a liquid that he could drink to give him back the ability to cast a simple curing spell. Tory convinces Kuring to hand over the vial, identifies it as a complicated enchantment to transfer a simple cure spell onto those who can already use divine magic. Tory returns the vial, but Marcus is having none of that: he grabs the vial after a tussle.

Tensions are high. Tory tries to defuse the situation by inviting Kuring to pray with him, to take advantage of the 'presence' of Varil. Kuring refuses, saying that he feels nothing, and does not appear to be particularly comforted when Tory displays that he can tap into Varil's power. In the meantime, Marcus chases down Aullia, who tells a tale of being from another land (or further) where Laceris' father has already won, and where a similar potion existed that was a poison clothed as a balm. She says that she and Blane saw direct attacks on priests on their journey, and that the potion is another front in the battle against Varil and Garat.

Rains 18

The refugees travel through the drizzle towards Rane. At mid-afternoon, they run into soldiers coming south to help at Southmaren. After this, the group made up of Blane, Kuring, Serynlea, Bayr, Tory, and Marcus breaks off to travel more quickly. Not long after passing the soldiers, they run into a pair of riders who appear to be tailing the troops, and who head off the trail when sighted.

Marcus, Blane, and Lea head off to investigate. As they distance themselves, Tory feels his link to Varil weaken -- further evidence that the warder is the source. The situation becomes tense as they move up the road and the travellers choose to remain hidden, but finally it is resolved when two men shimmer into view after being tracked down by Marcus, and request to be allowed to continue on their way. After a brief exchange, they do. Marcus is pretty gruff with them, which is not met with unanimous approval by his co-travellers.

That night, Kuring manages to slip the potion from Marcus and make a run for it. Lea yells out an alert, and a quick-to-wake Marcus follows into the raging wind and deep night to chase the fallen priest down and give him a Marcus-brand talking-to.

Rains 19

A stormy, miserable day for travel. Along the way, they run into more guardsmen on the way south to defend Southmaren. By mid-afternoon, they reach Rane. The walls are not much of an obstacle, and not well guarded. [some information on Rane, for those with the right knowledge, and here too for Tory]

They make their way to 'The South Road', an inn familiar to Bayr and Tory. Tory pays for a night's stay and food, and plies the locals for information. He hears a number of rumours and pieces of news.

Rains 20

The group leaves the inn and travels through the chill of a thick morning fog towards the Palace of the Duchess. On the way through the affluent area of town, up the hill and close to the Palace, they pass a new-looking temple to the new god, apparently open for business.

A short way up the road, they come to the palace gates, where they are challenged by a green-robed guard. He doesn't seem to think much of the warders and, worse, seems aware of the small issue of Blane having killed a priestess of Varil on the boat coming into town on his last visit to Rane (only days earlier). Also, the man has a bug in his hood... one that Marcus sniffs out as a spider. Demonstrations of Varil's magic by Tory and of Garat's by Bayr earn them an audience. Two guards (and a fox) escort the group a considerable distance (over a mile uphill) through a garden of wild flowers and then into thick forest of ancient trees to the palace gatehouse.

Once inside the Countess' castle, the group is segregated in a cottage-like building near an assembly yard and given lunch. What with the accusation of murder hanging over Blane, the memories of aranea ambush playing on their fears (and brought to life by the spider in the hood), and the presence of Kuring, there is some tension. They are left to wait for a few hours.

Finally, another guard -- this one in black, and an unsettling mix of scary and enticing -- arrives. She is trailed by a green scorpion the size of a house cat. She demands the details from Southmaren. Marcus answers... and then casts 'repel vermin' to keep her scorpion at bay (though he later denies that that is what he was doing.) They have an exchange. She eventually identifies herself as Rhian. Then the 'Witch of Southmaren' leads them to the Countess.

After a brief but impatient wait, they are admitted to a private audience with the incredibly commanding but equally ugly Countess Kira Peron herself. Marcus tells her the long story, starting way back at the ambush by aranea on his first trip to the Tower. Blane tells some of his story, and then is challenged to defend himself against a charge of murder, and to provide information on what he was doing on that ship in the first place. He does his best to answer in a straightforward manner.

And then Kuring interjects, and casts doubt on the moral fibre of the warders. Serynlea supports Kuring. Tory supports the warders. The discussion continues, and it comes to light that it is quite likely that the potion found on Kuring has likely been introduced into Rane itself; the temples have reopened, but with suspiciously few services offered.

In the end, the Countess takes custody of Kuring, with a promise to release him to the Temple of Varil in the near future. Also, she assigns Rhian to accompany the warders. Kuring is removed from the room, and Serynlea departs of her own free will. Tory, Marcus, Blane, Rhian, Bayr, and the Countess discuss plans.

The Countess appears to want the warders to go help in Southmaren, but offers to set up a meeting with the sage Rashel at Marcus' request. She gives them the freedom of the city. She keeps the potion, but promises to let them know what she finds through Rhian. She urges caution, given the attention Marcus and Blane are likely to attract before long.

After they leave, Marcus suggests that he head to the Temple of Garat with Bayr (where she has spent some time), and that the others got to the Temple of Varil. The group splits up.

Initial findings at the two temples are similar: both have their doors closed, and each has an encampment in front of it.

Temple of Varil: Folks tell Tory that the temple has been opening its doors very briefly each day, and not doing anything major. Many are there to trade their life savings for cures. Rhian cures someone's blindness, while Tory cannot; she chides him about it, and he sets off to cure someone (anyone!) to prove himself. He does so. Soon after the curative duo makes their helpful moves, they are mobbed by other desperate souls. Rhian manages to intimidate the crowd into letting her and Tory pass. At the doors, they knock, and when Rhian is noticed, they are admitted immediately to see High Priest Talent. They find that all the priests in the temple save one were tricked into consuming the potion. The High Priest takes them to Compeer Lexin, who is able to verify a connection to Varil in the presence of Blane. High Priest Talent begs Blane to return to help them.

Temple of Garat: Similar story to what folks are up to. It's been three days since the Temple has been opening its doors. People are getting frustrated and angry. Those present are not ready to trust the upstart temple yet, though. Marcus makes his way to the doors and knocks gently. Then with his mace. Bayr starts curing people on the steps while they wait. The door cracks open, and Marcus interposes his foot. The priest ('Second' Marlowe)'s surprise at seeing Bayr cure someone's blindness gives them the moment they need to force their way inside. When Marcus manages to gain entry into the temple proper, he finds High Priestess Elena facing down the other priests. It turns out that seven of them have used the potion. He learns that he isn't the first to act as a conduit; but that the others that the High Priestess knew of met violent ends. Marcus finds an ally. He offers to be at her service while he's in town. Marcus gets directions to the merchant who provided the potion: a man with a cart stall to the side of the main market.

When they get back to the inn, it is evening, and Kaith and Aullia have arrived. They eat, and then go back to one of their rooms to discuss plans. They are interrupted by sounds outside the room....

[Outcast]

Ordinarily, a missed attack is simply something to lament. Occasionally, it's seized upon as a chance to indulge in slapstick comedy. Uruz, however, gave us insight into his character, some stylish combat, and wry observation on the problems of fighting in an unaccustomed manner (and of depending on dice rolls)... all in a short enough span to avoid hogging the limelight mid-fight.

 

Uruz's Post Bollocks and Nine Hells! This is going tits up faster than a Risuri warf harlot with a galleon coming for shore leave... Lionel's divine aid settles with a bit of a chill during Waltham's less than pious mental tirade but it still fills him with confidence. Realizing that he doesn't have time to reload, fire and run for the tower, the young Earl of Royden moves like a dancer towards the foe he had previously shot, hoping to squewer him and quickly move on after the rest fo the group. Annie's bolstering shout buoys his arm as the point of the rapier lunges for the soft tissue under the ribcage so the blow may be incapacitating and fatal. Sadly, the point deflects off a buckle on the shoreman's bandolier and the rapier tip scuttles around the side of the sailor, exposing Waltham to bloody retribution. OOC And that's why gunslinger's don't do melee.

[TheDarkFuzz]

After an infiltration attempt went south, our party was left with a lot of unconscious enemies lying around and many more conscious ones on the way. Outcast came up with a great plan to humanely disable the fallen combatants (in case their allies brought healing) while still leaving them alive. Cutting their belts, stealing their boots, and liberating their weapons, rather than just cutting their throats, was a humorous and effective alternative to the typical DnD group's solution - kill 'em all and let Pelor sort it out. This post also gives a lot of insight into Dominik's character, as an empathetic veteran of war who is capable of being pragmatic without being merciless.

 

Originally Posted by Outcast

In contrast to his colleagues, Domnik almost feels at home here. Part of a small group, isolated in hostile territory, desperately improvising after the main plan proved a bloody failure? Yeah... this is all too familiar.

As a result, though he's muttering a steady stream of dark imprecations to himself, the former marine is moving with speed and confident purpose. Each unconscious combatant loses one boot - and has his laces cut, where those are in place - as well as having his belt sliced through and his weaponry removed. The result is a simple way of rendering the fallen men extremely unlikely to want to fight (while hobbling lop-sidedly on night-chilled and sea-damp stone, holding their clothing in place), without initiating the kind of atrocities that all too often backfire when one is cut off behind enemy lines....

Any easily-removed pouches and weapons of apparent quality or likely use (especially thrown or ranged weaponry) are either stuffed in Domnik's pack or tossed up onto the higher tier of the ramp, ready to be snatched up as he moves to join his comrades. The boots can also go up there, to provide an extra array of obstacles soon to be tripped over by on-rushing enemies.

The probable druid receives particular attention, Domnik not wanting to leave any spell components behind for the enemy to make use of in future. The man also receives a rather petulant kick (to his uninjured side) as the constable departs, but Domnik has another delay in mind and doesn't want to dally overlong.

Hopping up onto the higher tier himself, he hastily checks over the barrels, looking to see if any can easily be opened and investigated.

And here's a Link to the Post.

Also, in case you're wondering, that druid deserved a good kicking. No need for you to know why, just know that it was completely justified.

[Admin Chuck]

Toba put together an excellent character app for my Expedition to Castle Ravenloft game. Here is the meat of the app.

 

Name: Collevra

Class(es): Human Cleric of Iomedae

Alignment: Neutral Good

Post Rate: I thought I would ad this, because my post rate is consistent. During the week, you can expect a very high, rapid post rate during the day. Weekends tend to slow up for me, with me usually missing Saturday nights, but resuming a decent 2-4 post rate on Sundays. I tend to... uh... imbibe the spirits on most weekends, which is the cause of this post schedule.

Appearance:
A large man to begin with, Collevra has only gotten larger since grief and regret took over his life. Alcohol has reshaped what used to be trim muscle, dissolving it into fat. He hasn't shaved in weeks, and not an ounce of clean water scrubbed his hide. The hair on his head is probably blonde, should he choose to wash the grime out of it, and his eyes still retain the startling blue hue, though it is now dimmed by the horribly bloodshot whites. His shield, bearing the faded symbol of Iomedae sits unused against the bar near his feet, covered in a fine film of dust and grit. His sword, notched and beginning to rust, sits unused in its scabbard at his side.

 

Personality: These days, Collevra is sullen, withdrawn, and unfriendly if approached. He sits alone, in a bar in some town who's name he is long past caring to remember. Prior to his "fall," he was gregarious and full of life. A smile rarely left his face, and his devotion to his friends and comrades in arms was without equal.

Background:

 

Background "Aye, Collevra, you better get your arse in gear, or there won't be any orcs left for us!" shouted Hawke playfully, his lopsided grin shining as brightly as his recently polished armor. Collevra could only smile and shake his head as the young man rode up ahead, joining the captain at the head of the column. The boy's spirits were mirrored by all the members of their new company. Young, green, and heads full of the glory they had heard in stories around the fire. Their excited aura affected even him. His spirit felt buoyed, ready to face any challenge. He turned his head as someone kicked his ribs... "Hawke? slurred Collevra. "You can call me Heather if it'll get your ass out of my bar old man. I warned you to slow up on those spirits, and now I find you passed out on the floor of the latrine? Time to stumble out to wherever it is you sleep, but it ain't here." He could feel himself being drug, a vague awareness of pressure and his boots scrapping the floor. Then weightlessness, followed by the rough embrace of the ground. He would stand if the world would simply stop spinning... His head was spinning. The fall from his horse had not been graceful, with Callevra landing on his neck. He shook his head, and stood. The sounds of battle assaulted his ears, the clash of metal and the screams of men, orcs, and horses leaving his ears ringing. He got his bearings, and saw Derrick engaged with two orcs, each of his blows more wild than the next trying to keep the two brutish warriors at bay. He charged to the young man's aid, his longsword biting deep into orcish flesh with the power of Iomedae behind it. The second orc turned, which proved its undoing, as Derricks greatsword cleaved its head from its shoulders. Callevra couldn't help but grin. The battle was turning in their favor, and they'd had few loses to show for it. A great cheer went up from the company as the remaining orcs began to retreat. His horse galloped up to him, and licked the side of his face... He opened his eyes to a mangy mut licking his face, cleaning the last of the vomit from his unkempt beard. Blurry details of a stables entered his brain, even as the memories of the dream faded. Callevra stumbled to his feet. The spinning had ceased, but now began the true pain. The hangover he could handle, but with the clearing of the alcohol came the memories, the pain of emptiness. He stumbled towards his home, a run down, leaky shack on the edge of town. He crashed through the door, landing half on the bed. There he lay, praying out loud, "Merciful Iomedae, keep my memories to yourself. Please.... please don't let them return. Please don't let them return..." He knew what was coming next. It always did, in these moments when he couldn't find the booze fast enough. His mind, the traitorous bastard, began to fade into the past again, the same torture he endured every time he sobered... "They've holed up in that cave, Callevra. Soon we'll end this and return home with stories for our women and children," grinned Shep, his face covered in the grime of the march. Ahead, Hawke and Derrick rode, conversing jovially. "Five gold pieces to the first one to draw blood this battle," Hawke said confidently. "Ha! You'll be lucky to get your sword out of the scabbard before I've dropped three of the bastards," joked Derrick, his eyes already seeing future glorious battles. Callevra sat there, grinning, thorougly enjoying the moment. He wept. He knew what was coming. He struggled to slip back into unconsciousness. His conscience refused, his self pity prodding his memories to the front. These inner demons, the very death of the man he was, repainted in glorious detail, shattering his soul... "Regroup men! Don't follow them in!" screamed the Captain, but none of them listened. The orcs were fleeing again, into the large cave they had emerged from. This was it! This was the end, their chance for glory and victory! In ward they charged. Hawke was the first to stop, his face paling as the shadows grew black scaled wings, and glowing embers were uncovered by lazy eye lids. Pure, unbridled power washed over them, as the ebony nightmare stepped forth, lips parting to reveal fangs the length of daggers. From between those jaws gushed forth horrible, corrosive acid. Derrick's screams reached a horrible crescendo as armor, flesh, and bone all melted into the same puddle. Hawke got his sword halfway out of the scabbard before claws the length of Callevra's own longsword cleaved his body in half, the torso sprouting fountains of blood that painted Callevra's armor and face with liquid crimson. Shep stood ready, but his shield and sword shook with terror. Callevra saw all this before he turned. By the gods, he turned! And he ran! He didn't even look back as Shep's terrified screams tore through his soul like a hot blade, sealing the curse of his cowardice. He ran, and with every step, his soul bled... Tears now streamed down Callevras face. The pain never got easier. He vaguely noticed he had curled up in the fetal position on his floor, wallowing in his familiar pit of self-pity and self-loathing. He cursed Iomedae. He cursed Hawke's pride, Derrick's vanity, and Shep's courage. As always, in the back, he could feel the goddesses presence, watching over his personal hell. She would forgive him, but he didn't want it. He despised her compassion for him. He was a coward, and no being, divine or otherwise, could change that. His stomach suddenly rebelled, and he ran out the front door, barely making it past the front step before releasing its contents upon the ground. He sat there, eyes swollen, face tear streaked, gasping for air. Once he was done heaving, he looked up. It should be morning, but the light was obscured by mist. A mist that seemed to be creeping rapidly closer....

Worst Fear: Callevra's worst fear is sobriety. With sobriety comes the memories, and with the memories come the pain of his cowardice: he ran, abandoning the people that counted on him when they needed him most. He avoids all contact with people, as his fear of failing again is nearly crippling.

Driving Motivation: Right now, none. Suicide crosses his thoughts daily, but always some deep strand of his old self keeps him from driving the blade home. Buried under all the self hatred, he deeply desires to redeem himself, but cannot see past the self-loathing to give himself the opportunity for redemption.

[Nocturnal]

Nominating
Davion for this post.

Background
Dark Sun setting: Athas is a harsh desert world because abuse of arcane magic defiled the land, draining energy from plants and the sun. Insect-like Thri-Kreen and cannibalistic Halflings roam the deserts in small tribes, and half-dwarf Muls are slaves and/or gladiators in cities despotically ruled by powerful defilers called sorcerer-kings.

Lakta-ta, a Thri-Kreen defiler and sorcerer, killed his clutch leader by defiling in backstory, just before the game began. Since then his struggle with defiling magic has been a central part of his character development. He's been hiding some of his arcane magic by disguising it as acidic saliva.

Larry Biko, a halfling rogue/warlord and dune trader, was a former PC and member of the caravan that took in Lakta-ta and the remaining members of his Thri-Kreen clutch. He was left behind when his player couldn't play anymore.

The Post
Can be found here.

 

Quote "Trust MEEE as far as you can throw me you say?", Biko put his hands on his hips as he moved to stand in front of the 'kreen. "How about WE can't trust YOU about as far as you can SPIT!", the words carried more weight than just the implications he was making but Biko wasn't done there. "No one has bothered to say it out loud, but I am not afraid of you. You are a sun blasted defiler if I ever saw one." Biko paused only briefly to glance around the room to judge everyone's reactions. Of everyone there only Ka'Cha was ignorant of what Laktata had recently been dabbling with. "I didn't release your powers. I am no sorcerer-king. Your powers are your own to command Mister Lac-tate-ta." Biko emphasized the misuse of the kreens name in a sarcastic manner. "You did NOTHING you didn't want to do, if I was able to coax anything out of you it was because it was already there in the first place but that whole defiling thing you do. I wouldn't wish that on my enemies. I watched as plants died at your feet while you were in your own little lost world of rage. I surely felt the pain in my legs as the darkness sucked away my own energy and I suspect everyone elses too." Biko began pacing then, never taking his eyes off of Laktata. "You know, I wasn't even going to say anything because I like you. I really do but you defile and then defile again without concern for your companions. One of these days your powers are going to kill someone you love." Biko didn't know that Laktata had already done just that days before when Laktata's powers killed off Drik-chikit, their clutch leader, in the heat of battle. No one really knew that of course, not even Laktata was sure what really happened then. "I like you so much, that I didn't turn you in." Biko paused, letting the weight of that sink in although it left more questions as to what he was talking about. He completed the thought. "What you don't know is that I am a member of the Veiled Alliance and by all rights you shouldn't have left Altaruk alive, but here you are. I thought about turning you in, but truth is, I don't think you even know what you are doing and I believe intent is a factor that should weight in on such judgements. So before you go around thinking none of US are safe because of me, take a good hard look at yourself." Biko stopped and stared at Laktata then, letting his words sink in.

Davion took a former PC and NPC'd him impressively with a surprising twist while calling back ongoing elements from the very start of the story. This spurred some long-foreshadowed development in a few PCs' story related to those events, and began closing an open plot thread.

Not only the post itself but the roleplay that it immediately spawned is worthy of note. Every player responded with a flurry of activity at the revelation, often roleplaying at the top of their games, and it had long-lasting consequences in character interaction and plot advancement. This to me is the mark of a highly skilled DM. That's why I highly urge you to read the post in context and those that follow and that's why I think it should win Post of the Month.

[Uruz]

I would like to nominate Zarzak for this post in HL's Zeitgeist game.

Background: The group is busy assaulting a fortified lighthouse and is about to face nigh insurmountable odds in a last stand scenario. Zarzak as Lionel (who has already come close to death once) shows his mettle and stands as a bulwark against the coming horde so that the rest of the party has more chances to defend themselves.

 

Just as soon as the battle had begun, it ended. Lionel had not really recovered from his near-death ordeal yet, but there was no time to dwell on it at the moment. Any emotion he felt bubbling up was shoved away, as Lionel assesses the situation.

Looking around Lionel spies some of the barrels sitting on the dock and moves towards them. After tipping and emptying one of them of just enough of its contents to be reasonably mobile, he starts dragging it towards the lighthouse, finally depositing it on the narrow steps leading up to the building.

Should be just enough to slow people down ...

That done Lionel moves to join some of the others inside, and starts constructing a barricade out of whatever he can find, occasionally taking his morning star out to smash some hapless wooden object and jam its remnants into the doorframe.

Anything that can give the others even a few more shots ...

[Wretch]

Reading some of the greatness above, I realize this next post won't contend, but for participation's sake, here's my best for may.

I'll be posting a bit of a summary tomorrow, no time right now

Link to nominated post: Post

Nominated Post   Dogge stared back dumbly as Folk beckoned to the voices in his vision. The light in his eyes flickered on, still showing the sparkling metallic flies and their strange waltz through the blackened abyss. The brute's words would float unanswered it seemed, but the vision would continue to show him many things. It had shifted now, suddenly spinning about to reveal a view opposite of the one it had shown. As it did, Folk would behold the greatest wonder yet. A gigantic orb came into view and in it's wake, blocked out the near totality of the blackness which lay beyond it. The steel serpent, still visible, was now but a tiny spec marring the sickly green of the great giant's face. Next and though he noticed it last, the brute would now glimpse at a second orb, pale and gray, but a diminutive rock next to the colossal face in the background. Folk, somehow, would feel a strange sense of watchfulness pervading from it, almost as though he looked upon an all seeing eye which knew all secrets, too easily overlooked in the foggy limelight. The flies, he could now guess, had been approaching the pale eye, some spewing great streaks of fire at whatever had tried to halt their approach. They'd reached the eye now, but one of their numbers had been injured and now spiraled directly into the milky paleness of the smaller orb. What consequences this event would have Folk might not have any clear idea of, but a sense of urgency, oddly, swelled at it's occurrence... ...Suddenly, the same feminine and almost childlike voice he'd called out to but a moment ago was heard once again. ''Kalib, Eugene, Milo, you too, any of you that can still hear me, make your peace. This isn't going to end well...'' Folkvardr could not comprehend them, but he sensed fear in those words, it was a fear he recognized, the fear of death... * * * OOC for KM and EAZ   EAZ, 20 seconds go by as you wait for the bogeys to jump out of FTL. You are allowed one repair attempt per round for the duration of those 20 seconds. Now we won't playing out all of them, seeing as my next post will start combat again, but you'll still get to roll for all those repairs. 1 round is 6 seconds I believe, meaning you'd be allowed two more. That said though, I'll disregard your last repair check and allow all three.Same goes for Freya, though since KM isn't here at the moment, I'll be rolling for him. Hope he won't mind. No maps or combat info on this turn, that will resume on next update. Finally, I had to make an important choice for KM here. For all I know, he might have decided to attempt something in regards to Ellen. That said, I had to make a decision and keep things moving and I hope KM will understand when he returns, which hopefully will be soon. Whinther barely acknowledged Connor, this one having spoken to her on a private channel. She formulated a short response, dismissive almost and addressed him by rank as she said... ''I'll be observing orders second lieutenant... and so will you. We're on combat alert. Keep formation with Gamma and try to get your craft in better shape...Freya out.'' The channel closed abruptly and silence reigned for a few seconds. Needless to say, with Ellen's fate looking quite grim, Whinther was surely broken up and going through hell at the moment, but she was a soldier...she'd follow orders, no matter the personal cost. For now, she focused on her craft's repairs, she'd taken considerable damage and would need to get her Warg in better shape, should time allow it A moment later, seeing both Freyr and Freya's Warg take formation with her wing, Corsair got busy over Comms ''Attention all crafts, it's needless for me to repeat commands words, you all heard them right... ... We got six bogeys incoming and there's seven of us, don't rely on that advantage, one extra fighter will not assure us victory. We'll fly in three teams of two...Gamma pilots, you lot know your teammates, Warg IX, Warg X, you two are together. I will be flying alone and looking out for all of you as best I can. I want all pilots to stick to their teammates at all times... Engage enemies together and keep yourselves covered... You can expect that they will likely be using a similar strategy. If your status gets critical, you're under orders to RTB and swap fighters...should we get outnumbered, command will have some additional wings on standby and ready to assist us. For now, enter attack formation X and get ready...that's all, good luck to all of you. ETA 10 seconds...Corsair, out'' * * * OOC   Elder's survived the crash and is currently the only one up and about. Ellen is unconscious at the moment, though Elder will mend that below. Tbz, Kalib has survived the crash but is currently unconscious. Like Ellen, you took some injuries but nothing life threatening, I'll be rolling for it, but you might be looking at something like a broken arm. For now Kalib will be out for 4 rounds but can be shaken out of it when the others get over to you The Mule pierced through the southern edges of the Kinetic Dispersal ShieldKDS's radius as an arrow through mist. The kinetic shield, unfortunately, would not slow the craft in it's descent, it's mass too negligible to trigger any flux. Nothing left to alleviate the fall, Mule A sped towards the surface, it's obliteration inevitable... ...The craft came in at a steep angle as it rushed to it's end, finally hitting the ground with a violent impact. The mule should have been completely destroyed then and there, but by some odd fortune, it had crashed onto the downward slope of a deep crater. However, the Mule did not simply slide down the slope it hit, instead the craft's smashed bow dug into the dusty soil, tipping the spacecraft over completely. Sent into a tumble, the Mule barrel rolled many times before finally coming to a stop at the crater's bottom... Those aboard the crashed Mule lingered now in a place which only animists could fathom. A void, very different from that of space. A true void, beyond time, sense and reckoning, a heavy dreamless sleep from which most mortals were not meant to wake... Yet, to one particularly spirited hob mod, the blackness surrounding her seemed no more then a veil, nor did the sleep she'd been knocked into seem so final. Ellen was alive and miraculously her wounds were not too serious. She heard voices around her and these would slowly bring her back among the living. One of them, nearby, she recognized as Elder's, the private was desperately calling to her, hoping she wasn't dead. The other voice was strange though, an uncouth dialect, distant, but somehow vaguely familiar... "...Firar! Hverr svima miðli blár eða ryðja ægir! Leita beiða gjf fara til Miðgarðr!" * * * info for S_P   Roll results   Encounter roll (ER 50%) = 38 Jaron's Computer Use (DC 15) = 13 Ash's Treat injury = DC is 20, thus Ash cannot stabilize the wound OOC   Again, since they aren't really needed right now, no maps on this turn. Since the encounter roll result is 38, again, no unwanted surprises on this round. You've been seriously lucky with these so far, let's hope it keeps up for a while. Next, Jaron attempts to get the door to the travel tube locked again, but misses by 2. Finally, Ash doesn't quite manage to get the wound stabilized and so, the traitor takes 2 bleeding damage and is down to -5 Jaron, for a moment, looked across the tube, through the clearing smoke. The blast from his flashbang was still ringing in his ears and the strong possibility that someone else had heard it was now making him slightly uneasy. Despite his worries though, if anyone had heard the blast, it seemed no one would come to investigate just yet. Seeing that an armed group of bloods wasn't about to run in on them, the private, at length, cautiously moved to the door's control panel. There, with a quick press of a key, the private shut himself, his fellow SPC and the wounded medic inside deep space monitoring. He was distracted, questioning and trying to justify to himself his use of a flashbang and it took him a moment to answer Ash, this one, having just thrown a question his way. Snapping out of his guilt trip, Jaron looked to the SPC and saw that this one had already gotten busy, trying to stabilize the traitor's bleeding... ''I can handle my own PC pretty well, but I'm no tech...But, Let's see what Mr Groggers can do to help...Hmmm, whatever crashed was small, probably just a meteor or something but we should still take a look at what's going on out there. First though, I need to try and get that door locked again'' As Jaron got busy on getting the door to the travel tube locked again, Ash would find himself increasingly covered in blood. The wound was bad and the amount of blood flowing from it suggested a nicked artery. Pressure alone would do little to stop the bleeding at this point, to keep him alive, the SPC would need to reach into the wound itself, find the artery and somehow, plug it until further treatment was possible. Should he have been watching the traitor's face, Ash would spot the color slowly draining from it, death was coming for him, it wouldn't be long now... ''...Frack it! Damn door's as stubborn as my first lay...How you doing with...oh...um, he doesn't look too good does he... I think you're loosing him sir.''

[Nimlos]

Nominations are now closed.