She cried out for scrambling, pain searing. Twisting free from the prisoner's straddle, Vessa was hacking a low cough, reeling to support her rising. Anguish made ashen a visage at once poised and wearied. Eyes danced fevery. Blood wept from her wound. Her lungs burned.
And laughter welled from her chest. Survival ever eclipsing pain...
Incredulity saucered the possessed one's eyes. The spear as much wrenched and withered as perforated. In a flash, the overlapping soul had fled the dying system. All that was left was the victor, facing the last of her life free in her flesh. It fled her quickly 'neath the influence of the Obsidian spear. In truth, life's ebb was the weapon's tide, but as the woman slumped to her side there was no blood, her countenance merely afflicted... A steady pale crept over her...
((I don't like to play into godmodding and will therefor not interact with Jazz.))
And laughter welled from her chest. Survival ever eclipsing pain...
Incredulity saucered the possessed one's eyes. The spear as much wrenched and withered as perforated. In a flash, the overlapping soul had fled the dying system. All that was left was the victor, facing the last of her life free in her flesh. It fled her quickly 'neath the influence of the Obsidian spear. In truth, life's ebb was the weapon's tide, but as the woman slumped to her side there was no blood, her countenance merely afflicted... A steady pale crept over her...
((I don't like to play into godmodding and will therefor not interact with Jazz.))
((Edited out the long explanation, sense I don't need it anymore))
((So it's godmodding with a 20 minute effect timer. That makes it no better. Please make another character or lower his opness. It's also godmodding because of the way you are describing the interaction. That is not co-writing story, it's simply deciding the outcome of your actions. It's quite rude and entirely unethical from a roleplay standpoint.))
((Ok, so I tweaked him a little. First with his cockiness, that's just a trait of his personality. Second with the enchantments (which I have reduced to 2), for the strength, he can just lift things that are about 120 lbs with his low muscle mass, that is if he isn't damage to badly, as he uses his barrier powers a good amount of times causing great damage to him , from cuts the size of a finger nail, to the length of his forearm, so at the end of battles he needs time to heal. Now with the speed, I think I'll take that out.
So for his plated longcoat, that just gives minor protection, it's a coat that is covered in metal.
Now for his sword which dispels magic, it only works on magic that hits the blade, meaning if you surround him, or get a surprise shot in, he won't be able to dispels it in time, as he won't have the reflexes of a annoying bug.
Now for his power, just like most barriers for magic, his can be broken, prompting him to need to make another one, which takes longer, as breaking his barrier does affect him in a way, and because every time he uses his power it hurts him, so he can't go over board.
Now for the interaction, I did that as for the 3 or 4 hours of the role play that I had to read, it showed them doing their own thing and then reacting to what was said before, but if my interactions do come off as a bit weird, than I'm sorry, I'd be greatly open to pointers on to how to make them better.
If you have anything else you would like me to tweak then say away
))
So for his plated longcoat, that just gives minor protection, it's a coat that is covered in metal.
Now for his sword which dispels magic, it only works on magic that hits the blade, meaning if you surround him, or get a surprise shot in, he won't be able to dispels it in time, as he won't have the reflexes of a annoying bug.
Now for his power, just like most barriers for magic, his can be broken, prompting him to need to make another one, which takes longer, as breaking his barrier does affect him in a way, and because every time he uses his power it hurts him, so he can't go over board.
Now for the interaction, I did that as for the 3 or 4 hours of the role play that I had to read, it showed them doing their own thing and then reacting to what was said before, but if my interactions do come off as a bit weird, than I'm sorry, I'd be greatly open to pointers on to how to make them better.
If you have anything else you would like me to tweak then say away
))
((Welcome, Jazz. I think the biggest issue with your original post is that it was loaded with too many actions, which no one was able to respond to (and, thus, the feeling of being godmodded). There's a lot going on in the game right now, and I think it would be difficult for someone to immediately pinpoint who was "in charge." Also, it had been previously stated (but I'm sure easy to miss) that the fire and sand mixing together had begun to form a wall of glass. Anyway, I'd just suggest taking things a little more slowly so that others respond to your character's actions. Thanks!))
((Oh, I'll try to keep the amount of actions lower, so that it's easier to react to. Also I edited the thing a little so that my character isn't doing to much.
Thx for explaining 😄))
Thx for explaining 😄))
((No problem! Thanks for understanding.))
(( Thanks for being understanding. Sorry if I came off as harsh. ))
Mirima Myallae wrote:
The spokesman turns in astonishment to look upon his commander and immediately voice his consternation. But the commander nods his agreement with the witch's terms, "Lord Elyrion has given the command to bring back his songbird at any cost. Besides, there's no reason to kill a hostage - that would negate the peace treaty. Now, hands behind your back; at least we can make it look good."
The unfortunate spokesman is then sent of towards the gaping mouth of the skull. He almost constantly turns around to glance back in hopes that the commander has changed his mind. But the commander soon calls out to the witch, "My dear Lady Jadis, forgive us for being so ill prepared. To be honest, we never expected to journey so far, and as such the contract sits unread in our lord's library. Thank you for your understanding, m'lady."
The unfortunate spokesman is then sent of towards the gaping mouth of the skull. He almost constantly turns around to glance back in hopes that the commander has changed his mind. But the commander soon calls out to the witch, "My dear Lady Jadis, forgive us for being so ill prepared. To be honest, we never expected to journey so far, and as such the contract sits unread in our lord's library. Thank you for your understanding, m'lady."
The skull gave no response, waiting for the unfortunate hostage to pass the threshold. He disappears from their view almost immediately.
The elven man has barely come 5 feet into the witch's lair when he is set upon by gnarly, but strong hands. Lots of them. Without visible arms or bodies attached to them. The hands grasp at his legs and his arms, at the back of his neck and even his hair, each as if it really did have the weight and muscle of a body behind it. "Bring him, bring him..." Jadis' voice rings out from deeper within the lair. Her voice and any calls for help the ambassador may make would not be heard by those outside the lair. Although the ambassador would be able to see and hear those outside just fine.
Hands grab from all directions. The elf tries to turn again to the remaining ambassadors beyond the dark lair, but the seemingly disembodied hands continue to grab and push and pull him ever inward. Afraid that any attempts to call for help would only come out as indiscernable whimpers, he steels his nerves as much as possible and follows the voice and direction of his "guides."
He rolls his eyes and mutters, "Fool," as the commander begins to speak once more.
It's not entirely untrue. The commander is a man of war and not as well versed in the proper etiquette of addressing powerful potential enemies. "I trust you find your hostage satisfactory, my Lady. Now, to the reason of our request. Our most benevolent Lord Elyrion has lately lost his most valued pet - an elven songbird, a maiden of most lovely voice and musical skill. We have reason to believe that she has been kidnapped by a notorious band of good-for-nothings. This band is now located in the center of yonder storm, which we believe to be held by your own magics. We wish for your allegiance in returning this treasured possession to its rightful owner." He sits proudly atop his horse and in full confidence that such demands will be pleasantly agreed to.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" The blood-curdling scream issues from Mirima's mouth as Ayelle's body falls upon the spear. In a flash she is at the white-haired elf's side and cradling her head in her own arms. She knows it wasn't the witch that did it. "No. You shouldn't have. You should have saved yourself. Don't... don't go." But it is too late. Ayelle's eyes close and her flesh is an almost translucent white. In her shock and grief, Mirima doesn't immediately notice the lack of bleeding or injury from the piercing of the spear.
He rolls his eyes and mutters, "Fool," as the commander begins to speak once more.
It's not entirely untrue. The commander is a man of war and not as well versed in the proper etiquette of addressing powerful potential enemies. "I trust you find your hostage satisfactory, my Lady. Now, to the reason of our request. Our most benevolent Lord Elyrion has lately lost his most valued pet - an elven songbird, a maiden of most lovely voice and musical skill. We have reason to believe that she has been kidnapped by a notorious band of good-for-nothings. This band is now located in the center of yonder storm, which we believe to be held by your own magics. We wish for your allegiance in returning this treasured possession to its rightful owner." He sits proudly atop his horse and in full confidence that such demands will be pleasantly agreed to.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" The blood-curdling scream issues from Mirima's mouth as Ayelle's body falls upon the spear. In a flash she is at the white-haired elf's side and cradling her head in her own arms. She knows it wasn't the witch that did it. "No. You shouldn't have. You should have saved yourself. Don't... don't go." But it is too late. Ayelle's eyes close and her flesh is an almost translucent white. In her shock and grief, Mirima doesn't immediately notice the lack of bleeding or injury from the piercing of the spear.
The witch had seen this "songbird" through the eyes of Ayelle not long before and coveted the magical powers of the elf for her own. Though perhaps there was a trade to be made here.
"She fled the protection of Elyrion. His claim to her is forfeit," the skull announced, then offered a small glimmer of hope. "Unless you would aid me in something in return for this favor to Elyrion?"
If any of those present are versed in the history of the witch, her word in the past has been honored.
--
The lair itself is a dimly lit labyrinth mix of natural caverns and man-made corridors. The hands grip the ambassador firmly, forcibly guiding him along through several twists and turns. A figure becomes visible in the shadows, but a moment later it becomes obvious it is but a stone statue.
The hands push their captive toward one of the pillars where a heavy chain with a shackle awaits him. One of the hands wrap it around his ankle and the heavy iron band seems to fuse itself shut, leaving no lock to pick open. As if satisfied, the hands release him and scuttle away into the darkness, leaving the ambassador alone with only the statue for company.
"She fled the protection of Elyrion. His claim to her is forfeit," the skull announced, then offered a small glimmer of hope. "Unless you would aid me in something in return for this favor to Elyrion?"
If any of those present are versed in the history of the witch, her word in the past has been honored.
--
The lair itself is a dimly lit labyrinth mix of natural caverns and man-made corridors. The hands grip the ambassador firmly, forcibly guiding him along through several twists and turns. A figure becomes visible in the shadows, but a moment later it becomes obvious it is but a stone statue.
The hands push their captive toward one of the pillars where a heavy chain with a shackle awaits him. One of the hands wrap it around his ankle and the heavy iron band seems to fuse itself shut, leaving no lock to pick open. As if satisfied, the hands release him and scuttle away into the darkness, leaving the ambassador alone with only the statue for company.
Grey's eyes widened and locked on to the fistful of Iavre's hair that Marcelle had gripped in his hands.
"You wouldn't - " But he was cut off by a challenging call that resonated outside of the fire wall. There was a carriage out there, pulled by black horses, and Grey's eyes momentarily flickered to the owner of the voice, a man in a long plated white coat.
What now? he wondered.
"You wouldn't - " But he was cut off by a challenging call that resonated outside of the fire wall. There was a carriage out there, pulled by black horses, and Grey's eyes momentarily flickered to the owner of the voice, a man in a long plated white coat.
What now? he wondered.
The commander chuckles at the witch's response. "My Lady, I see that you would give my Lord Elyrion the same advice as I: that the ungrateful wretch should have been kept fast under lock and key instead of coddled and given some of the niceties of the court. Such matters have been fixed for her return, however; she will most certainly find that her life before her escape was much nicer than after her recapture. But, to get back to the matter at hand - I'm certain that something can be arranged to the content of both parties. What is your request, oh Most Noble Lady Jadis?"
The (former) spokesman, Ondel, stands quietly and ill at ease as the hands scurry off into the darkness. He shifts his weight nervously from one foot to the other. As his eyes adjust more to the darkness, he studies the strange stone statue before him. A terrible thought clutches his mind, and he glances toward the statue's feet in search of a shackle or chain.
Mirima continues to cradle and rock Ayelle's body as tears of both sorrow and anger stream down her face. She knows that she ought to sing the "Song of Parting" of her people for her fallen sister, but she cannot bring herself to do it. Ignoring the young bandit and her beloved instrument, she gently lifts the body and carries it out the front of the tent.
A cold, hard look has settled over her features. Her eyes bore into the witch's disciple. After a moment, she speaks softly, "She died nobly. You brought the witch into our midst. She made sure to take her out. May the face of Ayelle be forever seared into your mind until you abandon your evil ways!"
The (former) spokesman, Ondel, stands quietly and ill at ease as the hands scurry off into the darkness. He shifts his weight nervously from one foot to the other. As his eyes adjust more to the darkness, he studies the strange stone statue before him. A terrible thought clutches his mind, and he glances toward the statue's feet in search of a shackle or chain.
Mirima continues to cradle and rock Ayelle's body as tears of both sorrow and anger stream down her face. She knows that she ought to sing the "Song of Parting" of her people for her fallen sister, but she cannot bring herself to do it. Ignoring the young bandit and her beloved instrument, she gently lifts the body and carries it out the front of the tent.
A cold, hard look has settled over her features. Her eyes bore into the witch's disciple. After a moment, she speaks softly, "She died nobly. You brought the witch into our midst. She made sure to take her out. May the face of Ayelle be forever seared into your mind until you abandon your evil ways!"
Elven Commander wrote:
"What is your request, oh Most Noble Lady Jadis?"
The corner's of the witch's mouth curled up, amused by the idea of having an entire elven company at her command.
"There are others with Elyrion's songbird. Bring them all to me: dead or alive. I will provide you safe passage through the storm."
Ondel wrote:
A terrible thought clutches his mind, and he glances toward the statue's feet in search of a shackle or chain.
At first it seems Ondel's fears are unjustified, but as he looks closer, he spots a few links of a heavy chain mostly buried in the light brown dirt and dust on the floor of the cavern. The range of his own chain allows him just enough room to reach out and touch it if he chooses. The statue's chain is made of stone.
Marcelle turned slightly to follow Grey's gaze and the bandit leader could just make out the black horse carriage and the man, who wore a long white plated coat, standing at the outside of the fire wall, demanding the bandits hand over the prisoners.
Silveris gave Marcelle a brief nod and immediately stepped forward to deal with the new challenger, letting Marcelle take care of Grey and Iavre, and Silveris walked straight through his fire wall to confront Jazz, squinting his eyes a little from the battering wind of the sandstorm.
"What do you want?"
Meanwhile, Myles balked at the sight of Ayelle's dead body and blood as the musician carried the elf out of the tent, but Myles sucked in his nausea and rushed back around the tent, making sure to keep the instrument safe and hidden under his jacket until he spotted Mirima standing in front of the witchling.
Silveris gave Marcelle a brief nod and immediately stepped forward to deal with the new challenger, letting Marcelle take care of Grey and Iavre, and Silveris walked straight through his fire wall to confront Jazz, squinting his eyes a little from the battering wind of the sandstorm.
"What do you want?"
Meanwhile, Myles balked at the sight of Ayelle's dead body and blood as the musician carried the elf out of the tent, but Myles sucked in his nausea and rushed back around the tent, making sure to keep the instrument safe and hidden under his jacket until he spotted Mirima standing in front of the witchling.
Jazz sighs seeing the bandit walk over,"I thought I made myself clear my little friend, you won't interfere with my collection." Jazz says as a translucent barrier forms around Silveris. Jazz hops off the carriage and says,"that's going to the safest place for you."
(Is this to many actions?)
(Is this to many actions?)
Grey saw Marcelle turn, just briefly, to look at their new challenger. An opening. The telekinetic surged forward, lifted his arms, and brought the chains down towards the bandit leader's arm, which still held Iavre up by the hair.
----
Mirima was confronting the witchling. Sampson saw the anger in the musician's eyes and knew that she would very likely kill the already weakened Vessa. Sampson hesitated, remembering his previous run-in with the witchling, but decided that getting stranded in the storm was worse. So he stepped forward until he was firmly planted between Mirima and Vessa, one hand running over the hilts of his daggers.
"Back off, desert rat," he said.
----
Mirima was confronting the witchling. Sampson saw the anger in the musician's eyes and knew that she would very likely kill the already weakened Vessa. Sampson hesitated, remembering his previous run-in with the witchling, but decided that getting stranded in the storm was worse. So he stepped forward until he was firmly planted between Mirima and Vessa, one hand running over the hilts of his daggers.
"Back off, desert rat," he said.
Iavre sighed and kicked against the man who hold her , his privates . She runned away and hide behind Marcelle
"Back off, desert rat." His fingers play meaningfully at the hilt of his blade. Mirima's cold gaze slowly creeps upward to his face. Her eyes bore into his for a moment before an unamused smirk turns up the corner of her mouth.
"Fool," she whispers, "You don't frighten me. There are things worse than death, and I've lived one of them." Her eyes return to the witchling at his back, "Now she'll live another." Strangely, there is a distinct lack of sing-song to her voice - it's almost reminiscent of death being spoken aloud.
"I'm going to see to this one's passing now." Mirima turns on her heel and heads back toward the tent. Perhaps now she'll be able to at least honor the dead with the traditional song of their people.
The commander smiles. Seems like an easy task - especially as the witch isn't picky about them staying alive. He gives a long low bow toward the cavern as he responds, "Your wish is our command, My Lady. We shall return with your quota by noon tomorrow." He turns to bid the other ambassador to prepare the troops to advance.
It takes a couple minutes, but Ondel slips his hands free of the poorly tied bonds. He then inches his way forward with trepidation to brush off the possible chain links along the ground. As his fingers feel along the chain, it is obvious that this is also stone. His mind reels with the realization, and he jolts away. Would this be his fate? Is there any way to change it? He inwardly curses at the commander's nonchalance in sending him into this place.
"E-excuse me? Most Excellent Lady... I, I, uh, I humbly request audience with the Noble Lady Jadis... or her representative. May I speak - just this once, and I'll be mute ever after if you wish it."
"Fool," she whispers, "You don't frighten me. There are things worse than death, and I've lived one of them." Her eyes return to the witchling at his back, "Now she'll live another." Strangely, there is a distinct lack of sing-song to her voice - it's almost reminiscent of death being spoken aloud.
"I'm going to see to this one's passing now." Mirima turns on her heel and heads back toward the tent. Perhaps now she'll be able to at least honor the dead with the traditional song of their people.
The commander smiles. Seems like an easy task - especially as the witch isn't picky about them staying alive. He gives a long low bow toward the cavern as he responds, "Your wish is our command, My Lady. We shall return with your quota by noon tomorrow." He turns to bid the other ambassador to prepare the troops to advance.
It takes a couple minutes, but Ondel slips his hands free of the poorly tied bonds. He then inches his way forward with trepidation to brush off the possible chain links along the ground. As his fingers feel along the chain, it is obvious that this is also stone. His mind reels with the realization, and he jolts away. Would this be his fate? Is there any way to change it? He inwardly curses at the commander's nonchalance in sending him into this place.
"E-excuse me? Most Excellent Lady... I, I, uh, I humbly request audience with the Noble Lady Jadis... or her representative. May I speak - just this once, and I'll be mute ever after if you wish it."
In the tent, Rook still lay slumped, unmoving on the ground.
((Multiple traumas to the head... gonna give her a 20% chance of dying here... ))
Jadis worked her magics, reshaping the storm and providing the elves safe passage. The process took time and much effort, so Ondel's request went unanswered for nearly an hour until a frail looking old woman came forth, as quiet as a cat, her different colored eyes looking him and down as she strode forward, obviously still limber and lithe as if much younger than her appearance. "Welcome to my home, ambassador."
((Multiple traumas to the head... gonna give her a 20% chance of dying here... ))
Jadis worked her magics, reshaping the storm and providing the elves safe passage. The process took time and much effort, so Ondel's request went unanswered for nearly an hour until a frail looking old woman came forth, as quiet as a cat, her different colored eyes looking him and down as she strode forward, obviously still limber and lithe as if much younger than her appearance. "Welcome to my home, ambassador."
rolled 1d10 and got 7
1-2 Rook dies; 3-8 remains unconscious; 9-10 wakes up
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