CLOSED SIGNUPS Sagas of Wayward Suns - Arc 1

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Iskandr

Enough. If Samea has brought death to our home, then she can pay for it...later.

Iskandr mutters to the frozen Solars behind the table, "I'm going high and finding out what this is. Samea, get your shit together and get your demons under control right the fuck now."

[Samea already has the Intimacy towards Iskandr that he is "both a good hearted youth and a cold blooded killer". If she has carelessly brought death to the helpless civilians here, then let her draw her own conclusions. Cha + Presence +3 from scenelong Charm]



[Just not that impressive, I guess.]


The huntsman moves. With shocking swiftness and utter silence, he mounts the steps and flows to the window overlooking the alleyway, on the other side of the building from the carnage happening out front. The sudden flare of anima from his fellow Solar may yet provide some degree of distraction, as he rolls through the window, kicks from the wall below the shutter and accelerates to the opposite wall, scrambling to the roof of the other building. Never in his admittedly short life has Iskandr seen one of those southern acrobats, and yet those worthy entertainers would stare in jealousy and fear at his appropriation of their grace, turned to matters martial, as he silently covers alleyways and manoeuvres to bring peace and death to anyone threatening Zala.

The end result is the huntsman, clad in dark leather, with no spark of essence visible, prepared for murder, and elevated above the fray.


[Using Blinding Battle Feint to use Dex + Stealth as Join Battle for 3m Personal, and adding 4 dice from Stealth Excellency, also 4m Personal, +2 stunt dice, plus WP for autosuccess. Total successes: 12.


Iskandr Stealths into Join Battle and begins with Initiative 15 and a 12 success Stealth roll.


Dropping the commitment to Harmonious Presence Meditation and freeing up those potential 5m. WP 4, empty Personal pool, Peripheral 20.]
 
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Sideris

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FuzzMonster FuzzMonster

Oh, dear.

It's like looking at some mummer's farce on the scale of a city. You can see dozens of people along the road, once going about their business, now stranded in place. Sweating, eyes darting back and forth practically screaming 'why?' The roars and fury of the blood apes are now clear to you--they're engaging a solid company of Medoan Janissaries dressed in their white-scarlet uniforms. Clumps of them lie in bloody ruin at the feet of the hulking creatures. To their credit, the soldiers haven't broken just yet and have skewered one of the blood apes on pikes, killing it.

The real interesting sight? Well. Two things. One, a rather large and ominously carved...chariot?...hovering somewhere over the center of the city, a hundred or more feet above the Founder's tower. You can just make out figures moving about its rails and decks.

Thing two: You came up like a wisp of mist onto the roof. A hawk couldn't have tracked your movements. While the now-gravelike silence of the city rings with the nearby battle and the distant sounds of thundering boots, you've come up among two strange looking figures. Imagine man as tall as Hammer, but nearly as light on his toes as you are. Clad in what could be a great buff jacket or re-purposed ship sail and with a deep cowl pulled over his head. Boulder fists. Slate skin from what's seen. The other is literally right beside you wearing an imperial Mon. Bedecked in red jade-scaled lamellar is a Dragon shikari looking right at you...or rather through you because he was looking at the larger man and you happened to pop up before him.

He's not even remotely registered you're standing there.
 
Iskandr

There is that single perfect moment in which the pheasant takes flight, as the arrow is already in motion. The arc of the arrow is already set. The beast's wings flap between heartbeats, and time barely passes. The universe is a thing of beauty, as the shot has already landed, or already missed, and it remains merely to let the truth be seen. Iskandr lives in that moment. And now...now that moment is upon him again.

The second Iskandr's feet touch the roof, the arrow leaves his bow, loosed clear and true, right into the eye socket of the shikari in red.

Fuck your plumage.

Even as the arrow leaves his bow, Iskandr is already rolling backward and leaping, moving to escape the other figure...and lead him away from his Circle, offering him the tactical choice: pursue the archer in hopes of fighting him to the death in melee, or attempt to enter the building and leave himself vulnerable to being shot in his great big stony arse.


[Rolling Decisive Ambush attack, with a basic pool of eleven dice, activating Essence Arrow Technique for 1m Peripheral and awakening Iskandr's Thrill of the Hunt for three bonus attack dice. Activating Fiery Arrow Attack for 2m Peripheral.]

Attack hits for seven successes.



Rolling 15 dice for damage:

That's a total of 9 Lethal, plus the guy is set on fire and takes one die of Lethal every round until he or someone else takes an action to put it out.



Iskandr's Initiative resets to 3.
He spent 4m Peripheral, and now regains 5m Personal.

First thing in the round transition: Resistance roll against that fucking bell.
6 base dice, plus those 5 Personal motes immediately poured back into the Excellency, plus a WP.

Nope.

 
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Sideris

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FuzzMonster FuzzMonster

A fierce smile becomes a greasy rictus. A hiss of air escapes between perfect teeth. He crumples like a marionette as the blood steams and gushes explosively from the ruined socket. There's not even a hint of disbelief, just a switch turned off.

The shadowed hood of the other sweeps toward you and begins pounding its way across the tiled roof. Heavy iron boots leave crushed pottery in his wake. Doesn't even slow down, kicks aside his dead comrade who slides soundlessly down the roof and over the edge to the street behind you. As he stomps forward the sound digs into your teeth again...another peal of the bell.

Janissaries: 6
Hammer: 4
The Mercenary: 3
Iskandr: 3
Blood Apes: 2
 
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Chaka

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Gentle River

River lies, rigid and furious, on his back in the tavern. His eyes burn and sting unblinkingly as he hears the combat begin outside. It's such a waste. We were going to really achieve something here. Now I'm just going to lie here while the only friends I've ever had die fighting, and then the shikari will come for me, and that'll be that.

Tears of rage stream down his face. He refuses. He won't, can't die like this. He didn't break a lifetime of conditioning, abandon the love of his life and everything he ever knew, to die on his back in this fucking tavern without fighting. In his voice, he hears Ajurda, her voice like velvet soaked in cyanide.

"Is this all you have? Pathetic. Weak. I didn't teach you and love you and ruin you for this. Get up, you whoreson. Get up.

Get up.

Get.

UP.

River storms out of the tavern, kicking the door open as his Caste mark flares to life on his brow and golden light begins to dance across his body. "WELCOME TO ZALA, MURDERERS. WE HAVE BROUGHT NO HARM TO YOU, BUT YOU HAVE FORCED OUR HAND! NOW YOU WILL FEEL THE TRUE MIGHT OF THE CROWNED SUN!"

He strides into the courtyard, drawing all eyes as he brazenly approaches the invaders. "YOU WANTED THIS. All SHALL LOVE ME AND DESPAIR!"

OOC: Rolling raw Stamina to resist this, spending 1wp for an autosux. Waiting on stunt dice.
2 pointer, +2 dice, +1 success. +3 dice from my Intimacy at ST discretion.

9 successes. River is up and he is fucking *livid*. Rolling Join Battle, spending 6m on the Awareness Excellency for 6 dice and 4m for Open Palm Caress. Waiting on a stunt.

3 point! 2 dice, 2 successes, plus an extra point of willpower.


5 successes + 3 = initiative 8.

 
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Sarky

They're good direwolves, Drozzt
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Ferat:

Ferat was a child hiding from the local bully again, a watchman in Thorns coming across his first murder, a guard watching his starving neighbours turn to cannibalism as the dead beseiged the city. The screams of the dying outside the inn joined the chorus in the back of his mind, more pleading voices he couldn't save for all his supposed power. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Shalla kept pawing and nipping languidly, unable to help but desperate to try nonetheless. Unable to even blink away the tears blurring his vision, Ferat was reminded of the words the Unconquered Sun spoke to him the moment he was Exalted. "A hero is measured not by the victories he wins. He is measured by the hardships he has endured to win them. You have suffered much, my child, and will suffer yet more. Arise now, my champion. Endure, in enduring grow strong. Be the example to all Creation I know you to be."

Silently breathing a prayer of thanks to Shalla's bloody-minded determination, he calmed his racing heart, centred himself, and with a growl that would have startled even his wolf friend, he WILLED himself to move, to push through the fear and the sorcery, to stand and fight, to survive.

Ferat snarled and tore free of the spell, golden light spilling from his caste mark and eyes. He sprinted outside, towards the the sorcerer or magical device freezing the town. To make their targets helpless, to deny them even the chance to fight back, that was on a par with Mask of Winter's treatment of Thorns. By all the gods there would be a reckoning.

[Stamina+Resistance roll, spending a wp for 1 autosux, channelling Ferat's defining intimacy for 4 extra dice, 3 point stunt awards another 2 dice and 2 autosux, for 12 dice, 3 successes in the bag]

6 successes, plus automatics makes 9 total. Ferat is back in the fight

Join battle roll. Spending 3m on Awareness to round up to 10 dice, spending 5m on Sensory Acuity Prana to get doubles on a 9, and spending the second free wp from the stunt on an auto success

3 suxx + 3, +1 from WP = 7 initiative


The slaughter outside triggers Ferat's Limit, so rolling 3 dice for that:


4 Limit added. Dang.
 
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Chaka

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Gentle River

Surveying the courtyard, River sees the nearest opportunity to vent his rage is on the Janissaries locked in combat with the Blood Apes to his left. As Ferat tears out the door after him, River peels off and heads towards the soldiers, trusting his Circle to deal with the bell.

River moves gracefully, unarmed and unarmoured, his new cloak flowing and billowing around him as he streaks towards the throng of mortal soldiers. As one tried to bring a pike to bear on him he gracefully leapt over the thrust, balancing for a moment on the shaft. Bilious green Essence began to run and drip from his fingers as he made eye contact with the soldier, and he steadily kept that gaze as he stepped lightly forwards. He smiled beatifically at him as his fingers flexed into claws, then he leapt forward, tearing the man's face to shreds.

The Hunt was here for demons. Monsters. Anathema. Gentle River was an attentive and thoughtful lover. He could be that, for them.

He blurs through the throng, weaving between pike thrust and sword swipe, his fingertips tearing through mail like paper. Those soldiers not killed outright by his attack begin vomiting and staggering into one another like drunks, as the Essence venom on his fingertips burned and boiled through their bloodstream. He was only in for a moment before darting clear, blood boiling and steaming away on his hands and leaving them liars, clean as the driven snow. He watched them warily, the noble demon, a stance proud yet somehow fragile, as he awaited the retaliation. His anima was in full flower, and ghostly writhing snakes in golden and copper light seemed to writhe through it as he stood like a beacon in the square.

Spending 9m peripheral on the Martial Arts Excellency for 9 dice, and 4m peripheral on Flexing the Emerald Claw, which poisons on a successful hit.

2 point stunt!


Hit with 1 threshold. 1 die after soak.


The Battle Group takes 1 Magnitude damage and is poisoned. The Emerald Claw poison uses the following stats: Damage 2i/round, Duration 5 rounds, -2 penalty.


River has one bonus willpower for 6 points total. 13 personal/6 peripheral. Anima is bonfire. Initiative is 9.
 
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Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
Red Snow

This is not how my saga ends.
Pure, white hot fury breaks the spells bonds. She rises and strides out the door, rage sharpening each sense into a razor to turn on her enemies. Gentle River tears a man's face off. Always knew he had it in him. Ferat and Shalla have risen. The old wolf will look after himself. Iskandr is nowhere to be seen, doubtless lining up the perfect shot. Time slows as she drinks in the battlefield, savouring these last few moments before she gives herself over to savagery. The demons shriek and tear, goresoaked reflections of her inner self. The chariot thing hangs in the air over the city like a guillotine blade. A worthy fight. She takes a moment to reach into the pouch at her belt and slash the blue pigment inside across her face before holding out her hand. Wolf's Hunger tears itself from Elsewhere with a howl, trembling in her left hand with anticipation. Well, enough introspection.

"MEDO WILL NEVER KNEEL! COME AND FACE THE WOLF OF ZALA!"

Wreathed in Essence, weapon flashing in the sun, Red Snow's Herald charges.

https://rolz.org/embed?X35967183
4 essence spent on Resistance Excellency to break the spell. Red ends her commitment to Summoning the Loyal Steel to return Wolf's Hunger to her hand and spends 5 motes on Sensory Acuity Prana before rolling Join Battle.
https://rolz.org/embed?X35974080
6 success on Join Battle

9 Initiative, Anima is at Glowing
 

Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
Red Snow

Gentle River and Red Snow's Herald are alike in more ways than either would care to admit, especially after that one night. Both are formidable martial artists, dancers in a savage ballet, but as cruel as River's venomous claws are they cannot compare to the elegant brutality of the White Reaper as the wolf falls upon her prey. Red Snow sprints full speed into the Janissaries' ranks, the war dance taking over as she flows through them in a screaming torrent of red and silver. Wolf's Hunger bites again and again, worrying at their flanks and seeking the throats of the weak assliver essence surges across her skin with every strike . Her scream is ragged, wordless, lost to the dance and the fury. Her anima flares around her, a crown of spears burning over her head and casting her warpoint in a terrible light.

Activating White Reaper Style reflexively for 8 motes, Excellent Strike for 3 motes to gain an automatic success on her attack and reroll all ones and full melee and dex excellency for 8 motes. 16 motes total.
Rolling Melee+Specialty+Excellency+Dex+Accuracy = 20 dice
https://rolz.org/embed?X35977135
https://rolz.org/embed?X35977170
13 successes, +1 automatic success.
Raw damage is 5 Strength, 14 from Wolf's Hunger and 7 successes over the battlegroups Defence, so 26. Enemy soak is 13,so damage pool is 13 dice.
https://rolz.org/embed?X35977373
7 successes, so 7 magnitude damage. Red gains 1 automatic initiative for landing the attack.

Initiative is now 10, essence is now 8. Anima is at bonfire. Red gains one halo from damaging the battlegroup, which grants +1 resolve.
 
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Sideris

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Ragoza Ragoza

It's like a symphony of destruction. Maybe it's the fact you're fighting inside city walls for once, but it never looks quite like this in open fields. Maybe its the rivers of blood running in the gutters and in the cracks of the cobbles. The stinking hulks of the two dead blood apes, surrounded by broken limbs and bodies. The snapped pikes littering the ground. They fall like grain before the scythe and few things have ever seemed so holy. Officers try to stem the tide, bawling orders for mannered retreat, but they book it all the same as their men, heading for the gate nearby.

The ermyanthoi, smelling a free lunch, sets off after them in ravenous glory. There's a knee-high pile of dead before you. Wounded struggle like dead-eyed fish underneath their brothers.
 
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Sarky

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Ferat:

The airship. That must be housing the source of this magic.

Ferat made a beeline for the city centre, running straight up the first wall blocking his path and soaring across the rooftops, a blur of golden energy. Roof tiles cracked as he landed, and he tucked and rolled, coming up running again. Leaping onto the top of a ladder propped against the next drop, he held on and let his momentum cause the ladder to pivot back on the cobbles below, leaping again as it reached the zenith of its arc, flying over the rest of the street and another besides. He hit the far the rooftop running again, closing the distance to the Founder's Tower and the airship above.

Racing by the corner of some building or other, he lashed out with a massive plated fist at the wall, snatching a solid block of stone straight out without slowing, a cloud of pulverised rock and plaster streaming out behind him. He was a pillar of noonday sunlight piercing through the clouds, a blazing beacon. There was no way his approach would go unnoticed, and he stole glances at the crew atop the airship as he sailed between jumps, looking for the inevitable response to his challenge.

[Two activations of Monkey Leap Technique for 3m total, another 3m for Lightning Speed, all peripheral.
Initiative still 7

13m personal remain
14m peripheral remain]
 

Sideris

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Sarky Sarky

Blocks rush by in a blur. Alleys, warehouses, empty, stinking paddocks, the chandler’s home with his family frozen on the rooftop garden, mid-tea. It’s like being caught in the hurricane winds of the Marukan, so fast you’re running.

And the sights. The city a charcoal and dirt blur as speed kills all shapes. You rocket between two troops of levies and a now exceedingly alarmed trio of what had to be Dynasts.

One thing catches your eye: the airship slowly tacks against the wind, toward you. The bowspirit is an elegantly carved representation of Mela in brass and steel, the jade long since removed, chipped away.

A great distortion of the air gathers around the dragon’s maw with a glow like coal embers.
 

Sideris

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FuzzMonster FuzzMonster

His arms open to brace the air like the walls encompassing the city. For a moment, he stands there like a statue, considering. Then one meaty hand reaches out, giant palm encompassing your head, gives the gentlest of pushes. The world wheels back and suddenly you forget you weigh anything, even after slamming through two awnings and banging off the corner of a discarded wain. Draft horses paralyzed by the bell roll their eyes, staring at you.

Seeing as you have no Defense and are helpless, he's literally just going to push you. You'll fall a Short distance to the ground below. A Short fall, pg. 232, is 3 Bashing damage automatic, through soak/Hardness, and 5 more dice rolled:



Total of 7 Bashing damage!

Red
River
Ferat/Airship
Janissaries (trying to reform and dying of poisons)
The Mercenary
Ermyanthoi (eating Janissary)[/Join Battle]
 
Iskandr

The breath is knocked from his lungs and for a moment, Iskandr is so stunned that he is almost not even there. When he returns to himself, his eyes, the only thing he can move, narrow. Now, for the first time, he feels rage.

You left them. You abandoned the people of Zala to Mul Hyades, an actual fucking demon from outside of Creation. One of you stood against it. One of you alone. And now you come for us with an army. Fucking now, as we feed this town, strengthen its walls, dig its sewers, and train its people.

Now we are beyond a silent duel. This is not about you and me, you bastard. This is about Zala.

In fury, Iskandr wills his stunned and battered body to move, to shrug off the curse, and act to protect not just himself, but those around him.

[Rolling Stam 3 + Resistance 3, + 6 Excellency dice, Peripheral 6m, plus 2m to keep it hidden, plus a point of WP for an autosuccess, all -2 for his injury. Attempting to see if I can get stunt bonuses for, get this, playing two Major Intimacies off of each other. Iskandr is driven to protect the small communities of the North, and regards the Wyld Hunt as honourable opponents. Now...now both of these things are at war.

That's a 2 die stunt, adding 3 dice for Intimacy. So: 15 dice and two autosuccesses. Watch me flub this anyway!

Oh wow, ok.]



Rolling for Limit gain:
 
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Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
Red Snow

The enemy break before her, as they should. There is no honour in chasing a broken enemy, and the wolf turns her eyes towards new prey. She sees the Wyld Hunt's foot soldiers down the avenue and prepares to strike again, the wardrums behind her eyes driving her on, before her heightened senses show her their battered armour and poor formation. The Janissaries were career soldiers, trained and disciplined killers worthy of her wrath. These, though, these were lambs to the slaughter, a wall of flesh for the Realm's cowardly elites to hide behind and wear her down.

This is it, Red. Are you the monster they say you are? Are you going to be a reaver or a warchief?

New plan.

Essence surges in Red's legs as she leaps, soaring like a bloodsoaked hawk over the broken corpses of the janissaries into the midst of the soldiers. The wardance's rhythm guides her landing and touches down like a gentle breeze, levied troops falling back in awe around her. She banishes Wolf's Hunger before holding up empty hands and raising her voice, passion and essence carrying her words.

" We are not your enemies. Your enemies are the tyrants who would see the people of Medo toothless. Your enemies are the Dynasts who grow fat on the fruits of your labour. Your enemies are the cowards who drag you from your homes and send you here to die at a demon's hands. Your enemies stand behind you right now, waiting for me to tire myself out butchering you like pigs before the climb over your broken corpses to end my life. Well I am not here to slaughter. I am here to offer you all a choice. Join me, Wolves of Medo. Stand against those who'd hide behind your shields and march side by side with me into a new fucking dawn! Raise your fucking swords against the Realm and set yourselves free! HOOVES TRAMPLE TUNDRA!"

It started out as a shout and ended as a triumphant roar, fists raised to the air. Turns out reading through the books of speeches the old governor kept in her office paid off after all.

Spending 3 motes to activate Monkey Leap Technique, 5 to activate Harmonious Presence Meditation and 5 on Presence excellency.

Rolling 3 dice for Presence, 1 for Presence Specialty, 5 for Excellency and three for Harmonious Presence Meditation for a total of 15
https://rolz.org/embed?X36009304
8 successes

Peripheral essence is at 0, initiative remains unchanged.
 

Chaka

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Gentle River

River arches an eyebrow slightly as Red drops on the Janissaries like a wind of blades, sidestepping slightly to avoid a gush of arterial spray that jets past his face. As she leaps away toward the levies he watches her go... and notices Iskandr on his back, struggling against the curse... and sees the Child of Pasiap standing on the roof above him.

Time to go to work.

The Eclipse Caste breaks into a sprint across the square, deftly flowing over the carnage and around the obstacles of combat. He leaps over a dead Blood Ape and dashes along the table in the centre, his footsteps so light they don't tread the blood spattered across it. He seems almost to glide from the table to an overturned cart before gracefully somersaulting upwards, catching the gutter on the house with one hand and winking at Iskandr as he soars up with the gentlest touch.

He lands on three points, his cloak billowing majestically behind him and the serpents in his Aura sliding across his body almost hypnotically. He locks eyes with the Earth Aspect and treats him to a friendly smile as he rises from one knee to a standing position, his hands held open and at his side to show he is unarmed. He cuts an imperious figure, his cloak billowing wildly in the swirls of golden light around his body.

As he waits for the Dragon-Blood to come at him he appraises this man, surely no monk by his gear. Perhaps his alliance to base coin and survival is stronger than his religious fear? River sees a tool to be used, if he can pry it from the hand that wields it.

Spending 3m personal on Graceful Crane Stance and 5m personal on Harmonious Presence Meditation. Taking a Read Intentions action to try to get a bit more information on what makes this guy tick, specifically looking for any Intimacies relating to being primarily motivated by profit or a strong sense of self-preservation.

Two-point stunt! Rolling Read Intentions

5 successes total. That beats his Guile, so River learns one Intimacy the character has relevant to what he's looking for and its intensity, or if he holds no Intimacies relevant to the question.


Turns out he has a Major Intimacy! "To bring glory to the Clique, not the inheritors." Sounds like the Inheritors means the Realm.

River's lip curls.

"Good afternoon. My name is Gentle River, and I'd like to have a chat with you about an absolutely fascinating business opportunity."
_________________________________________________________________________
River has one bonus willpower for 6 points total. 5 personal/11 peripheral (8m personal now committed to Charms). Anima is bonfire. Initiative is 9.
 
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Sideris

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Ragoza Ragoza

For a split second after your hearty roar subsides, it almost seems as if it didn't work. You note three Dynasts behind these blocks of troops, one even curls an evil grin before the men start a titanic clatter as they beat their shields with swords. Slowly, like one of the chants one tribe would give another during friendly years and during competitions, they chant: "Tundra, Tundra!" They may be cannon fodder, but the warlike nature of Medoans has never been stamped out by the Empress' brood. Five hundred howling souls raise their swords and about face to the trio of Dragon-Blooded once commanding them.

Chaka Chaka

He looks at you a moment, giant hands coming up to pull down his hood. Oof. You now see why. Gray, melted wax-looking skin. Bones a little too gaunt and cheeks too fleshy at the same time. White sclera with two islands of pure red staring at you. Around the fingers of its left hand you see iron rings, banded like the brass knuckles used by scavenger lords. With a heavy step, its moving, gaining startling momentum, ready to rock your head off your shoulders. Roof tiles shatter to dust and become a billowing fog with its bulk.

Withering attack, 4 Brawl, 5 Dex, 4 Acc (Light Mortal weapon, tags: Brawl)

 

Chaka

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Gentle River

River doesn't pretend to be helpless, or flinch, or try to dissemble. A man like this will respect only clear capability, so he channels the arts he's learned in to that instead. Always be what they want you to be until it kills them.

Casually, he adjusts his footing as the swing comes in, slapping the blow aside with carefully calculated contempt. His smile doesn't break. As the Dragon-Blood's fist moves past his head he grasps the wrist and rolls backwards, twisting the terrible momentum of his foe against him. He wedges his foot neatly into the Earth Aspect's solar plexus for leverage and pushes as they roll, neatly flipping him clear. They both roll up onto their feet, facing one another. River idly brushes some dust from his new cloak, clearly not bothered.

"You're very good, you know. I doubt these ascetics are paying you nearly what your skills are worth. Are you slumming it for fun?"

Spending 5m peripheral on Torn Lotus Defense for +1 Defense and 4m peripheral on the Martial Arts Excellency for another +2 to increase his Parry to 8. Having successfully defended he can now make a (Manipulation+Presence+Attacker's Essence+3 for Harmonious Presence Meditation) counterattack to instill a positive Intimacy towards River in the Earth Aspect, the nature of which is up to the ST. River is specifically targeting the counterattack to hit his Major Intimacy about bringing glory to the Clique over the Inheritors.
2 point stunt and attacker's Essence is 1.


6 successes total to Instill.

5 personal/2 peripheral. Releasing commitment on Graceful Crane Stance and ending it early. (5m personal now committed to Charms)
 
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Sideris

Edgepeasant
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Adept, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male
Genre You DON'T Like
Nation Building, School, and probably a lot more I can't think of right now.
Chaka Chaka

He looks at you strangely, clearly able to understand what you're saying, but no reply is forthcoming. A thin, almost lipless, mouth gurns obscenely around words that just aren't there. You see something off about his teeth. Alas. Dim curiosity, says the eyes. He looks at his feet--at the roof of the pub you're still standing atop of--and seems to weigh your words.

The Mercenary now carries a Minor Tie to River (Curious Doubt).
 

Sarky

They're good direwolves, Drozzt
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, A Few Posts A Day
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige, Douche, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Whichever is called for
Favorite Genres
Sci-fi, fantasy, horror, combinations of the above
Ferat:

Ferat came from one of the Realm's finest cities. He had cheered the military parades in the streets of Thorns back before the Empress had disappeared. Hell, he'd manned the city wall defences, although not during an attack. With essence enhancing his senses, he knew the sight of an implosion bow when he saw it, although admittedly he wasn't used to them being pointed directly at him. He would have to time this very carefully. And whether it hit or not, it would cause terrible damage to the streets around him, and the innocents frozen there. Such indiscriminate destruction. And yet if he didn't stop the airship, how many more would die as they fired again and again? The disregard for the people of Zala made him furious.

On he ran, streets and parks and squares blurring past, towards the Founder's Tower, making token efforts to duck and weave to keep the Dynasts on board assured they had him. Each jump, he stole a glance at the pivoting ship, noting the crew, the ladders and railings, and... There, the bastard Dragon-Blood aiming the weapon, caring not for the innocent death it would cause even if he hit the so-called Anathema. He might be hiding a hundred feet above, and behind a weapon bigger than them both, but this was a one-on-one now. He would pay for all the deaths Ferat couldn't prevent today.

Onward, until he leapt towards the side of the tower wall, grabbing a flagpole and swinging, aiming his vast momentum upwards. The pole shrieked and tore free from its bolts but Ferat had already let go, appearing to run straight up the tower like a streak of golden lightning. Even as he reached the halfway mark, he could see the shimmering charge of the cannon was reaching its crescendo, just like when a Dynast of Thorns died and they fired in salute. This would have to be perfect, to ride the force of the shot's impact but be clear before it collapsed into a whirlpool of destruction. Almost ready to fire... almooooooost... NOW.

He tossed the brick he had snatched just before the weapon fired, and leapt straight after it, placing one foot lightly on top as the mighty shot slammed into the tower stonework. There was a brief moment of peace before the shot unleashed its destructive power.

Thinking a prayer straight to the Unconquered Sun, bursting into dazzling light resembling a great bear leaping to attack, he wound his fist back and jumped with all his strength towards the Artillery just before the top of the Founder's Tower was engulfed in destructive lightning...

[one last Monkey Leap at 1m, and supplementing a [Dex 4 + Brawl 4] withering attack with Ox-Stunning Blow for 4m, 1i, 1wp. This adds one autosuxx to the roll and 1 die to damage, and can only be soaked with the target's Stamina. Every initiative reaped is rolled again and every 2 successes from that give -1 to target's Defense and dice pools until onslaught wears off.
Spending 8m of Peripheral to add 8 dice to the roll, and 1wp for an automatic success.
3-point stunt grants another 2 dice, and 2 autosuxx, and replaces the 2 spent wp.
Weapon accuracy is +5, so 23 dice total.


10 suxx from roll, 3 from wp/stunt, 13 total.

Also the very act of firing the bow will kill innocents below, triggering Ferat's Limit and rolling 3 limit dice.

Another 2 limit. That's 6 now.]
 
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