Zemelian Odyssey

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Dabir
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Zemelian Odyssey

Post by Dabir »

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Players:
Hyphen (Csiphe Serris)
PureQuestion (Moltoven Eurynome)
AlexMdle (Chebraghol)
Spriterkid (Ophelia Nanos)
ShadowSpectre (Frigus)
Ex-Rumia (Alicia Grand)

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Describe your starting areas, I'll deal with all other description and NPC interaction from there.

BEGIN
Last edited by Dabir on Sun Mar 18, 2012 11:09 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Re: Zemelian Odyssey

Post by Ex-Rumia »

The sun hadn't yet risen over the small trade town of Suma, yet the sole owner of 'The Wizard's Hat' was already making her way down to the basement to renew her "Ward of Happiness", as her guests continued to slumber. The basement itself was cool, as the stone down here didn't let much heat in, much less radiate it with how tightly packed it was. The massive canvas on the northern wall glowed with the magic flowing through it. Held there by a small frame molding it to the stone, it looked a bit imposing, if not intimidating to those who couldn't understand the layers upon layers of writing upon it. Placing a hand against the ward to check how much power it had, Alicia smiled. It still had a lot of charge left, so she wasn't that worried.

Making her way back upstairs and through the wooden trap door in her own room, Alicia put on a smile as looked over her rather spartan area. Like the rest of the bar/inn everything was in here, from the small writing desk, to the two bookshelves next to her simple down-stuffed bed. Making her way into the hall she headed toward the kitchen, her footsteps soft on the polished wood flooring. to start preparing breakfast for herself and the many people who would soon be waking up to take part in it.
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Re: Zemelian Odyssey

Post by PureQuestion »

Moltoven was growing anxious. It had been twenty years since he had locked himself up in this fortress, toiling away at his craft. Death was his domain, but the time was nearing to return to the living.

There were maybe twenty active undead under his control at the moment; a couples ghosts, some zombies, and a dozen skeletons. As he walked the halls towards his ritual chamber he passed several making their rounds. The clattering of jaws echoed through the stone passageways as the guards exchanged information. The skeletons, by far the most numerous of the undead, due to their longevity (and that all zombies eventually decay into skeletons), had a distinct method of communication. Lacking vocal chords, they spoke among themselves by the clicking of their jaws. The newly raised seemed to pick it up almost immediately, some sort of instinct or intuition, apparently. Moltoven had picked up enough to understand the basics of the "language".

On his way, he passed a skeleton conversing with an old decrepit skull laying on a nearby shelf. Clicks and Clacks bounced around the room far more quickly than Moltoven could keep up with, but he picked out enough words to take interest. When they finished, he looked at the Skull. "Something come up, Julius?" Two clicks: "Yes." Moltoven looked down the hall, towards his study. "One moment, then." He walked quickly into the room, past the large stone tablet where he conducts his main experiments. Pulling his dagger from his right hip, he walked towards a pile of bodies. Ingredients, specimens. Unfortunate souls. Moltoven rarely killed. His ghosts were made from the mortally wounded, his zombies and skeletons from those already found dead. For all the grimness of his work, he had maintained enough morality to not hunt for bodies. This morality did not stand in the way of the tongue he excised from the nearest body with surgical precision. Grabbing a small stone tablet from a nearby table, he drew a small runic circle using the blood from the cutting of the tongue.

When he reached Julius, he set the tablet on the shelf next to him, with the tongue in the centre. The runes glowed briefly. The skull looked up at Moltoven. "Evening, Master Eurynome." Moltoven put the dagger back into its sheath.

"Good evening, Julius. What news did you receive from the guard?"
"It would seem the demons are acting. One of the ghosts reported a group of three demons scoping out victims. They seem to be looking towards Honann."
"Ah, is this the moment we were waiting for?"
"Quite possibly, sir. Have you finished preparing?"
"I believe I - We - have spent long enough locked up in this wasteland."
"And how are we going to engage the beasts? Three demons could be tricky."
"Indeed. I think I'll be making a Sentinel today."
Moltoven turned and shouted for help. Within moments, several skeletons stood before him.
Pointing to the nearest one, he said "You, go prepare a surface for me. The rest of you, I need bones. It's time to slay demons."
He turned back towards Julius. "Hopefully we make it in time."

Walking back into his ritual chamber, the skeleton was already nearly finished cleaning off the largest slab in the room. A large pile of bones laid next to it, skeletons coming and going, adding to the pile. He walked over to the tongueless body and took out his knife again, this time removing the heart. He laid it on a nearby shelf. By the time he was done, the skeleton tasked with preparing the slab had finished. As he turned to join in the stockpiling, Moltoven stopped him. "Actually, I need a fire in here." Moltoven began removing the head, and this point, carefully severing the neck, removing the eye. "Suppose I could get the other spells covered too." He deftly severed the hand at the wrist. By this point a fire had been lit in a nearby fireplace. Moltoven tossed in the head, allowing the flames to burn away the unneeded flesh while he worked on the circle - two circles, in fact. First he would raise the Sentinel. Then he would take direct control.

The circles required for raising the greatest undead were daunting tasks, taking up to an hour to compose. The hand for the Command spell is comparatively simple. By the time both were complete, the pile of bones was massive, several times the size of Moltoven. He tasked the skeletons with moving it to the circle while he prepared the final stages of the ritual. He ordered one skeleton to grab the skull from the flame, and another to grab a torch and oil. Within minutes, a massive pile of bone lay centered on the ritual circle. The skull was placed atop them, the heart in front. The oil was poured atop the pile and set alight.

Moltoven approached the circle, dagger in hand. Raising the dagger with both hands, he stabbed the heart. The runes encircling the pile lit up, bit by bit. As the circle closed, the bones began rumbling, the flames intensified. Moltoven had to step away from the heat. A massive hand emerged, fingers formed of ribs. It gripped the ground, supporting the rest of the structure as it pulled together. Bones cracked and warped as the flames heated them, and the magical force pushed them into formation. The flames pulled towards the center, becoming locked away by shifting bone. When the noise finally stopped, a humanoid figure, nearly three metres tall, stood on the pedestal.

"Now for the command spell." Moltoven grabbed the severed hand, placing it in the centre of the circle, between the Sentinel's feet. This ritual, in comparison, is completely trivial. Moltoven impaled the hand, triggering the secondary runic circle. That just left one ritual. Directing the Sentinel to leave the fortress, he walked towards the table with the eye, grabbing it. He crossed the room, stopping before a large table depicting a map of the region. Many holes pocked the surface from prior uses, and several blood stains remained. Placing the eye on the mountain where the demons were spotted, he pulled out his knife, impaling it. A vision filled his mind. The demons were long finished their descent. If he was quick they could be caught. At least, he hoped so.

Heavy Sentinels, though massive, are nonetheless nimble. Their variable form allows them to cross almost any terrain, and their large form allows vast strides. Moltoven didn't take direct control of his creations often, but this was a critical plan. There was no room for error. The Sentinel, under his command, shifted to a quadruped form, dashing across the wasteland, through the scattered trees, past tiny villages. The demons were approaching a town in the Honann region, that much was clear. The silhouette was barely visible in the distance. The demons traveled quickly, but not as quickly as the mass of bones racing towards them.

Nonetheless, they were nearly upon the town when the massive fist of the now humanoid Sentinel struck the demon trailing furthest behind. All three turned to face it. When he saw that same malevolent grin stretched across their face, burned into his memory so many years ago, he faltered, his gut wrenching. In that moment, the three demons pounced upon the Sentinel. The crash as it impacted the ground echoed through the town. Two of the demons each pinned one of the sentinel's arms. Though it towered above them, they were able to overpower it together. Almost. The third stepped towards the fallen giant, claws outstretched, as it prepared the strike, the Sentinel's chest opened, unleashing a massive burst of flame. The demon was incinerated. The other demons tightened their grips, trying to decide on a course of action. By this time, several people from the nearby town had gathered to watch from the distance. The Sentinel shifted, detaching its arms. It quickly rolled, crushing the demon to its right, and regaining its arm. It turned to the final demon, still holding down the struggling detached arm, looking to return to its body. The Sentinel brought its arm down onto the demon, which jumped away at the last moment, fleeing into the town. The Sentinel reattached its arm before giving chase.

The demon clawed and rampaged through town, desperate to find anywhere to hide from the skeletal mass stalking it. The citizens fled from the beast, but its wild claws found many victims as it flailed. Moltoven patiently directed the Sentinel through the streets, carefully weaving past the townsfolk. The demon spent hours running in vain. The townsfolk had all locked their doors; the Demon did not have time to stop and attempt entry into any of the buildings. After what seemed like an eternity, the demon stumbled into town square, and collapsed. The Sentinel slowly walked up behind it, and lifted it into the air. A sickening crack echoed through the town as he snapped the demon in two. Dropping the demon to the ground, the Sentinel, and, incidentally, Moltoven, looked around the town.

---------------

GOOD.
FUCKING.
GOD.
Leech
Parasite
Alien
Angel
Hell
Demon
Wrath
Signamente -         - Necros -         - Termos        
Omnis

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Re: Zemelian Odyssey

Post by Spriterkid »

Inside the tower, a cloudless day before Ophelia. She was getting ready for the long journey ahead.
No ordinary girl would be able to join him, but she was no ordinary girl. Rather, she was a "grown" woman.
She thought of the encounter with the Lightning Puppeteer in retrospect.

"I would like to make a request. May you join me in my travels? As a lightning master, I'd see your abilities as great for enemies we may face."
She said this with a voice of a 10 year old, and the Puppeteer naturally laughed.

"Aren't you a bit young to travel? I mean, there are some dangerous creatures and wildlife. Come on, I'll take you home to your parents."
"I'm not a 10 year old. I'm 50. My father and my mother died a while ago."
"Aw, poor little girl thinks she's older than me! I'd love to join you in your travels, but you're too young to travel! Come on, I'll take you home."

Ophelia hated being treated as a girl, but she had to prove she was a grown woman. To do so, she started chanting for her signature ability, Puteulanus Flamma, or "The Flame of End", as others called it.
"Aw, how cute! She's chanting for a powerful magic she probably won't even be able to do!"
After about 2 minutes or so, she finished chanting, and a blue fire sprouted right next to the man.

"Do you perhaps believe me now?"
"How did you..."
"I told you, I'm 50. I just look 10 because of a disease."
The Puppeteer reflected on this. Walking back and forth, he finally reached a conclusion.
"Tell me. Why are you travelling alone with the danger that could arise anywhere?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you. But it's for a good cause, trust me."
"You do speak like a grown woman, I see. And your magic is good, too."

The air was tense between the two, as both thought about the journey. Silence was broken by the Puppeteer.

"I'll join you. But on one condition. You must let me return to my hometown once in a while, to perform or direct plays."
Ophelia loved puppet shows. If anything, this was a benefit and not a condition.
The blue fire stopped just as Ophelia began to talk.
"I see. So be it. Once in a while, we'll return to Barroni, and I'll watch your plays."
"Excellent! I believe I haven't told you my name. I am Csiphe Serris."
"My name is Ophelia Nanos. Pleased to meet you."
"That's a nice name! Now, let us get ready for the long journey ahead. Where are you headed?"
"Somewhere where we can find more people to join us. Maybe a good cook? I'm not that good, to be honest."
"That's fine! I can help you cook! Besides, there will be villages where we can stop and stay for a while! Barroni isn't just a barren plain, you know."
"Great. I'll set up now."
Ophelia stormed for the tower, but Csiphe stayed.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing. I'm just going to reflect on this situation."
She shrugged, and moved on.

This situation was not long ago, but she wonders if this is his wish. Does he really want to leave Barroni?
As she reflected on it, Csiphe entered the room she was in.
"Are you ready? I already packed my things."
"Hmmm... Huh? Oh, yes. I'm ready."
"Then let us make haste! Time is wasting!"

She looked at the clouds, and thought of where she was going next.
Maybe Honann. She felt someone was there.
Someone who had a dark origin.
And yet she felt there was also a good cook there.
She reflected for a while until Csiphe shouted from outside.
"Hey, hurry up! I'm leaving without you!"
"Oh, right. I can't just dawdle around. I gotta go."
Both let out a heated laugh, and Ophelia quickly got out of the tower.
There was a long journey ahead of them. She just hoped they could make it.
-------------------------------------------------
If Hyphen is ok with both of us going towards Honann, that's where we'll go.
Otherwise, we will discuss it.
Also, long story short, Ophelia finds Csiphe, asks to join. Csiphe laughs and Ophelia proves that she's older than him.
Csiphe realizes she's not kidding and joins.
Ophelia thinks about her next destination.
RIP Ed Balls

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Re: Zemelian Odyssey

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Chebraghol was hungry.

This was the driving point of his current predicament. The succulent, sweet human hunters have not dared to enter this forest for months, wolves have fled the vicinity of his lair about a week ago and now, the demon was forced to subsist on small woodland critters. A ring of squirrels was dangling around his neck, naught but a snack and he has nibbled one or two of them off just to still the hunger of the past half hour.

So what else was left for him. Raiding the town was a viable option, or maybe it was just the empty stomach talking, it would not be the first time he had to move after attracting too much attention. The searching parties never came back to their towns, but then militia went in. One would always be on lookout and run back to town after the limbs had started ripping.

Chebraghol looked down to make sure he was on the right track. The rumbling he heard must have been recent. Though he was not an expert in footprints, it looked ...human? Barely, but still, if it moves, it has to be alive. It can be tracked down and slaughtered.

He happened upon two torn carcasses of unknown beasts on his way, yet the tracks didn't seem to be theirs. Something else was ahead, perhaps chasing them.

Chebraghol continued his search even after it led him out of the forest, it seems the entity he was tracking has entered the small town. How weird... there seems to be a commotion, yet the streets are empty.
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Re: Zemelian Odyssey

Post by ShadowSpectre »

PureQuestion wrote:GOOD.
FUCKING.
GOD.
Remember GoC? Nothing to crow about, mate. Mind you, I don't intend to do anything of that scale juuuust yet.
[strike]-----------------------------[/strike]
On the tip of the tallest tower of the fortress of a certain necromancer was a strange corpse. It seemed to have been skinned and impaled on the tip upside down straight through its torso, and a rook was perched on its limp leg. It seemed nervous for a carrion feeder sat on one of the juiciest pieces of scavenger's delight possible. It made a slight peck, and, satisfied that it could, it embedded its beak into the bloodied flesh of the humanoid figure.

Suddenly, the flesh writhed and twisted, growing to envelop the hapless bird, which screeched out. Its call of terror was muted the moment the flesh surrounded it entirely.

The not-corpse grew still.

Within the fleshy cage, the rook was screeching and cawing like anything, flapping in terror and slamming its wings against the bloodstained walls of its prison. It closed its eyes and thrust outwards with its wings with a terror-laced caw and suddenly felt a rush of air. Opening its eyes, it saw that it was falling out of the sky. A panicked flutter later, and the bloodied rook gained control, darting away as fast as it could from the now unoccupied spire. The thing that once resided upon it was nowhere to be seen.
Last edited by ShadowSpectre on Sun Mar 18, 2012 8:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Zemelian Odyssey

Post by Ex-Rumia »

The screaming was what had alerted her first, but priorities kept her there in the kitchen. It wouldn't do to abandon the cooking to fed her curiosity, there were things going on, yes, but until it was done she would have to focus on her task.

Quickly finishing the morning meal and making her way outside, Alicia gasped in shock. The path of destruction caused by whatever went by seemed to have passed closely by the inn, in fact several large footprints of whatever had headed past lined the hardened stone street, actually leaving imprints heading toward the town center. The blood trailed by the foot prints is what worried her, as well as the lack of action from the local militia. Leaving the inn with people still inside wouldn't be a good idea, so she was forced to return, hoping that if someone went out, they'd come back to tell what happened over drinks.
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Re: Zemelian Odyssey

Post by Dabir »

PQ
---
The 'town square' was actually anything but square. It was more of an elongated wedge, with the wider end at the north side. The square was well-paved in a pale brown stone. Market stalls were set up along the long sides. Three buildings stood at the north end, with another three buildings along each long side. At his Sentinel's full height, Moltoven could see that he was on the eastern side of the town. A wide area around the town was deserted, the people having fled for their homes as the demons barreled down the main road.
---

Alex
---
As he looked around, Chebraghol's nostrils filled with an awful stench. The air smelled of death - not the recent, meal-in-the-waiting kind of death, but the putrescent miasma of a rotting corpse. What made it even worse was the accompanying reek of burning - and all of it was large enough to suggest an entire bonfire of the exhumed had passed by this way somehow. But then again, for a demon that might have been better-described as 'dinner'. The scent trail led straight down the road, as did a trail of vast footprints, stamped into the road.
---

Hyphen/Spriterkid
---
And so it was that Csiphe and Ophelia set out from the tower. Before them lay several options. The tower itself was at the heart of a flat, bare region. A mile or so to the east, some peasants eked out a meager existance against the odds. This village provided the tower with food and other vital supplies. A road led straight from the tower to the ancient Road Surnurfel. Of course, there was always the option to hike cross-country.
---

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Re: Zemelian Odyssey

Post by PureQuestion »

The Sentinel - Moltoven - looked over the town. Everyone had fled. He didn't really feel to urge to see how they'd react to him knocking on their door, so he turned to leave. Shifting back to his own perspective, Moltoven called in one of the ghosts. He ordered the Sentinel to return to the fortress. The townspeople would not likely follow it to Alnkek.

The ghost arrived. Steven. One of Moltoven's skeletons had found him in the mountains while out scouting. Apparently one of the demons had gotten him. He was lucky to have lasted as long as he did. Of course, as clearly demonstrated by his current state, there was little hope for the man. All Moltoven could do was sustain his soul. Moltoven always felt odd about ghosts. In the case of most undead the intelligence, the personalities, they're all fake. Empty shells filled with a simulacrum. But ghosts were the souls themselves. A tricky thing, morally. Moltoven rarely dealt in them, useful though they were. Aside from cases like Steven, most were madmen from the cults that worshiped the demons. There is little sympathy to be had for them.

Ghosts, unlike other undead, were consistently able to communicate with humans. This, combined with their intangibility, made them ideal ambassadors and messengers, as well as ideal spies. It was for this reason that Moltoven had made sure he was in contact with all of them at any time.
"Hello, Steven."
"Ah, how are you today, Moltoven."
"I'm fine. But I'm afraid we need your voice."
"Hm?"
"A Sentinel just finished fighting some demons in the nearby town of Suma. Are you familiar with the town?"
"Ah, Suma. I was there a couple times in life. How's it doing?"
"Fine, aside from a gigantic skeleton charging through it this morning looking for a nearly as massive shadow."
"Yes, that'd ruin most people's days. You want me to head over there?"

No sooner had Moltoven nodded than the ghost vanished, moving quickly towards the town.

Moltoven switched back to the Sentinel just as it stepped out of the town.
Leech
Parasite
Alien
Angel
Hell
Demon
Wrath
Signamente -         - Necros -         - Termos        
Omnis

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Re: Zemelian Odyssey

Post by AlexMdle »

Chebraghol was carefully observing the village. Entering it now could bring many spoils, ah, the aftermath of a battle. Pillage and rape. Good times.

Uh. Now the memories just intensified the hunger. It was unbearable. Maybe... if he just snagged some corpses away, it would not take long. The stench is basically a path marker of fresh dinner. Yes. That sounds like a plan.

Chebraghol entered the township and luckily found it was mostly deserted, the corpses lay in plain sight, scattered haphazardly across the road. He picked up the first two, rather small ones, apparently children, and hung them over his shoulder as he walked to towards another dead body.

*Twitch*

Ah, wait no, this one was not quite dead yet, Chebraghol quickly broke his neck to prevent any call for help, on the shoulder he goes. As he was in the process of picking up the fourth, messy carcass he noted that the smell was getting intense. And then the familiar rumble. Suddenly, a massive figured lumbered over the corner.
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