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Old 04-05-2015, 09:13 PM
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Reboot: A Journey into Darkness

As you hang in awe of your god, whether or not you believed in his virtues before, you now must, he stands before you and in your soul you can feel that he is the rightful god of all things.

"If one of you welcome another back to me you will find yourself in the void, having never existed, all trace of your legacy removed from history. I will not stand by as my servants squabble, as my brother allows. You are my servants from now until I decide you are worthy to be released to death.

As I mentioned, I will be leaving you in a clearing inside the Vale, you must make your way to the Bastion, but be on guard, the envoys of my brother and the other gods roam the world looking to foil my plans, they fear me, as they should.

Now be gone my servants. I have other matters to attend to.
"




The tendrils tighten and what was once light and ancient bones is now darkness. You feel the shadows enter your mouth and nose, slipping into your every orifice. You are drowning in the shadows, and yet you still cannot move.

The light is not subtle, it burns tears into your eyes as if your eyes had never felt the warmth of day. As you blink you find yourself on hands and knees in a field with dew covered grass, around you are the others that shared your audience, but little else other than the trees that surround you in the clearing. Where you landed the grass has begun to wilt and take on a grayish hue.

As your eyes adjust you find that it is in the early hours of daylight. The birds sing in the trees and a cool breeze is blowing from the Northeast. I very pleasant day for evil.
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Old 04-07-2015, 07:19 PM
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If these were the chosen of Huspantas, he was to be greatly disappointed. For among them was a young lad no older than 16, with the legs of a dog, and the rest of the body of a dog too. Also a tibia, though that one didn't belong to him specifically. He had found it on some wandering priest, and while the priest objected strongly to leaving it behind, he didn't argue too much. Blood loss does that to you.

Liskart supposed that he was here because these other people were here. Puck was nice, and gave him all the people to eat, but sometimes strangers wanted him to do strange things, and that was odd. Still, this didn't seem too bad. His new god friend was odd, and had no sense of personal space, but at least he was willing to let them go about their way. Whatever... that way was. "But... what is mister pants' will? Sorry, I wasn't paying much attention." Haha. Mister pants. He'd have to remember that one. Gods had the weirdest names. They were like kids who named themselves, except they got all the cool theatrical magic.

Liskart did not get the cool theatrical magic. People seemed very worried on an existential level when he suggested trying to learn, so he didn't bother. He didn't know what existential was, but it definitely wasn't tasty. Like this tibia. Mmm. Tibia.
 
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A satyr rises in the morning, and hangs the coffee mug on his horns, so that he won't lose it.
The coffee is done, but the mug isn't in its usual spot. Where did it go? He forgot.

Last edited by Fragmaster01; 04-08-2015 at 02:42 AM.
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Old 04-08-2015, 06:47 AM
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Ulciscor coughed loudly. There on his hands and knees in he middle of the woods, the massive half-orc tried to recover himself. He looked around, scanned the area, and spotted his backpack. Along with a few other fellows. They must be the other unlucky fraks...Generally this would be one of those situations where he'd ask himself what the hell had he gotten himself into. However this was not just regular heist or capper. One formed with a hastily assembled rag tag crew of other likely scummy criminals. No. This was supposed to be Huspantas's own errand. With his own carefully selected rag tag crew of scummy criminals.

Or worse. Ulciscor thought. He coughed a couple of more times letting the black inky ichor out of his lungs. Worst of it all the death god did not condone the re-proportioning of shares. Which all the more made this whole deal foul. I guess it is better than the latter option. Ulciscor of course always knew that death was the other option.

Or worse.

After all the coughing and as much looking around as he could, Ulciscor grabbed his bag as he stood. Hastily he peered inside it and it seemed contain much of it's content. He grinned when the raccoon inside moved about. Always a survivor you... I knew I liked you for a reason, you shite.

Ulciscor slung his backpack on his massive shoulders and stood up straight. He drew his falchion and waited for the others to get their own bearings. This would have probably been an opportune moment to re-proportionate the future shares, but alas he would have to opt out of that option.

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Old 04-11-2015, 02:01 AM
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The ground was soft, wet, crisp with early morning dew. Thick fingers pressed into the dirt. The last thing he remembers feeling was rock. Jagged, hard, blone-crushing, flesh-ripping rock. The last moments of his life before flooded back. Dragged by his supposedly loyal guards, stripped naked, thrown from the balcony. Down the cliff, down the rocks, bouncing, tumbling, feeling every outcropping, every bone snap with the impacts.

But here he was, on a grassy field. Maybe it wasn't just an hallucination. He pushed his hands down into the ground, lifting his body up. He opened his eyes. Green. There was grass. He stood, hunched over. The morning sun burned his eyes so he turned away. He looked at the others already standing there. He straightened his back, joints popping loudly.

He was far from a pretty man, even for a hobgoblin. His skin was sallow green, a sickly colour even for his kind. Every visible patch of skin was covered with scars - lines and patterns etched into the flesh. Anywhere not covered in scars was adorned with complex tattoos. Naked from the waist up, he stretches his arms, joints cracking again. He looks down at the belongings on the ground, bundled in a dirty piece of burlap. He kicks it to move the burlap and gives a look at the pile underneath. The hobgoblin bends down, grabs a dented metal breastplate from the top of the pile, and a heavy leather belt with a knife strapped to it.

"I can only assume you lot are here for the same reason I am," he says, the voice a deep rumble. He slowly buckles the belt around his waist. "If that's the case, then we have work to do. "
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Old 04-12-2015, 03:28 PM
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Ulciscor looked around as the other got up. The half-orc
Dice Survival to determine north:
1d20+5 (5)+5 Total = 10
tried getting his bearings by turning about and looking at the sky.

Ulciscor He grunted at the others to introduce himself. While he didn't have any certain affection for the god, he certainly wasn't ungrateful for another chance at living. And if Ulciscor could make a decent coin out of the whole capper... well that would be just fine too. Not to mention that having a god on his side could come in handy.

Hope one of you brought a map. He commented. He had only heard of the place called Bastion,
Dice Knowledge: (Local) Bastion:
1d20+6 (14)+6 Total = 20
possibly even picked up a rumor or two, but he wasn't sure how it was or more importantly how far they would have to walk.



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Old 04-13-2015, 03:15 AM
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The red-skinned teifling in black robes groaned loudly as he returned to the world. “Gods did that SUCK!”

Every inch of Puck ached, and the memory of those probing shadows? A trembling shudder ran through his entire body as he tried to push that memory away. Now even the light was scorning him. He pulled his hood up, letting the shadows protect him, rather than violate him. That was better. Darkness was supposed to be his friend, not his rapist.

He looked around, still feeling a tad confused by the whole thing. What a night. Stabbed by a woman, resurrected by an evil god, and now in the middle of a field with a bunch of unsavory-looking strangers. I live a charmed life, he thought to himself.

He spotted his pack with his goodies, and his staff nearby. Well, all things considered, could be worse.

What was it the big guy had said? Go to a temple and steal something? Ok, no problem. Didn’t seem he had much choice, and it was a small price to pay for a second chance at life. Puck liked living.

He got to his feet and looked at the others. Ok, big scary half-orc, check. A hobgoblin beefcake. And possibly the ugliest creature I have ever seen in my entire life…great. Note to self, do not have sex with dogs.

The teifling, now more composed, thinks a moment, trying to break the ice, he says, “So…My name’s Puck, and this is my first time dying and being resurrected. Nice to meet you all.”
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Old 04-13-2015, 08:29 AM
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"Liskart" introduces himself, inbetween munches of bone. Maps? No, he hadn't heard of any maps. People usually didn't give him the map, because they didn't trust him to go the direction they wanted him to. He wanted to go to the fun places, with the fun people to eat. They always wanted to go somewhere 'productive'. Sometimes the two were the same, but not always.

Regardless, he would let the others lead. Perhaps they knew where they were going. He hoped.
OOCHopefully someone knows. If not, let's pretend they do, so that we don't wander around forever.
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A satyr rises in the morning, and hangs the coffee mug on his horns, so that he won't lose it.
The coffee is done, but the mug isn't in its usual spot. Where did it go? He forgot.
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Old 04-13-2015, 03:00 PM
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"Hmph." The massive - for his particular race - tattooed hobgoblin finishes buckling the battered breastplate over his torso. Reaching down, he grabs a hideous vicious looking metal gauntlet that has three long, painful-looking blades mounted on it, and snaps it over his wrist. "I am Shaktol Zuul. And if nobody has a map," he says, pulling out the knife - a long, jagged blade made of translucent green stone - inspecting it, and shoving it back in the sheathe, "then I will find someone that does."
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Old 04-13-2015, 09:22 PM
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"Shopping! That sounds nice." No Liskart. Mugging. That said, he heads off with his companions along the road, looking for a goober to mug.
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A satyr rises in the morning, and hangs the coffee mug on his horns, so that he won't lose it.
The coffee is done, but the mug isn't in its usual spot. Where did it go? He forgot.
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Old 04-15-2015, 01:30 AM
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You make your way to the road which runs east and west. It is cobbled and it looks to be in frequent use. It is not a new road, there are ruts from carts, it may be as old as a couple hundred years. On the sides of the road there are ditches for drainage and to keep a distance from the thick forest. You can see about 100 ft down the road each way before the shrubs and trunks block your view.

OOCPerception checks all around if you could please.
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Old 04-15-2015, 02:14 AM
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Dice Perception! Low-Light/Scent:
1d20+5 (17)+5 Total = 22

Liskart sees everything! He is a good boy. Praise him and give him a treat.
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EDIT: My brain is fight. Awkward MRIs don't help. Expect delays.
A satyr rises in the morning, and hangs the coffee mug on his horns, so that he won't lose it.
The coffee is done, but the mug isn't in its usual spot. Where did it go? He forgot.

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Old 04-17-2015, 03:21 AM
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Ulciscor somehow got the feeling of a deja'vu. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but it certainly seemed like a familiar feeling. Trying to pinpoint the exact feeling he
Dice Perception:
1d20+7 (14)+7 Total = 21
got on his guard and looked suspiciously at the others and down the road. As he examined his companions Ulciscor nodded approvingly of the hobgoblin. Certainly a good choice Huspantas had made. With the wolf-man beast certainly if it was anything like a worg, it would come incredibly handy, and the tiefling... well it was a tiefling. As he recalled information about Bastion he thought more and more the possibility of how they would get into the city. More specifically how they would get into the city without being killed. He smiled knowing the group composition would fit very well where they were going.



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Old 04-17-2015, 07:49 AM
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Puck came to the road and
Dice perception:
d20 6
looked down it both ways, covering a hand to block the sun out of his eyes. "...So, anybody know where the heck we are?" He asked as he rummaged through his pack for his cloak to conceal his appearance. "I mean, it's not like a map is just going to appear after..."

Puck pulls out a map that he was quite certain he hadn't put in his pack.

He looks around in confusion, thinks a moment and then looks up to the sky. "It's not like a beautiful, buxom, naked women are just going to appear!"

He looks around expectantly before sighing with disappointment. "Dang it."
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Old 04-18-2015, 02:45 AM
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Shaktol looks at the map in Puck's hands. He squints. "We are here," he says tersely, stabbing a finger at the sheet. "And we are going here. We go east, for now." He looks up, gauging the sun and wind and the horizon. Then he points a direction down the road. "That way." He slings his bag over his shoulder and turns to march down the road.

"Wait." The hobgoblin raises a fist, signalling the group to stop. He points down the road at something distant.
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Old 04-18-2015, 04:56 AM
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Liskart plows right into Shaktol from behind. "That's not walking. You're not very good at this, are you?" Still, he looks ahead to 22, as rolled earlier.see what the looker sees. Perhaps it is food. It usually isn't, but sometimes it is, which makes it all worth it.
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A satyr rises in the morning, and hangs the coffee mug on his horns, so that he won't lose it.
The coffee is done, but the mug isn't in its usual spot. Where did it go? He forgot.
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