Post by Demacia's Wings on Jan 17, 2014 8:44:52 GMT -5
He... he won!
Quinn didn't realize that her nose was pressed right up against the glass, even as she struggled to stand straight as the sand began to course up her leg. The rogue had given up, and Sendrel had won. A strange, suffocating relief began to wash through her body, her hands moving itself away from the glass in hopes that she would finally be free of this nightmare.
Except it didn't.
Quinn's eyes widened, and she could hear her heart beat faster and faster as she realized that the glass remained as still as a rock. And then the sand began to fall, quicker than before and the ranger knew, knew that this was death and this was the end. She clenched her fists, slamming them against the sturdy surface, smashing her shoulder against it screamed in protest. Her knuckles were bruised and raw but Quinn didn't seem to realize it. She continued on.
Panic. Don't panic. Panic.
But then the sand swirling began to darken and it was only when her hand slipped to touch it did she cry out as the sand beneath her fingers turned black and soft, like a mush of decomposing food. It was rising quickly to her waist and Quinn could not help but stand on her toes, as if that would help at all. Her breathing was coming in erratic intervals, her nails scratching against the glass like a wild cat, eyes wide and her mouth parted to pant and whimper.
The smell. Oh god, the smell.
The smell invaded her mouth and the ranger doubled over and heaved. Memories began to resurface, of black blood and dripping smiles. The smell of death was heavy in the air, gripping her arms and reaching all around like an embrace which suffocated all that she was. Her ribs felt ready to break, from the all encompassing air and the way her heart strained against her chest. She choked on her own spit, her breath coming in short gasps and wheezes once again.
Breathe. Breathe.
Against her better judgment, Quinn inhaled sharply and immediately began to dry heave once again. She didn't even feel the tears falling from her eyes, both smell and memory attacking her like a sharpened blade. The Invasion, her brother, the smell of the dead and the undead and she hated that she knew they were different.
Caleb's face resurfaced at the forefront of her hyperventilating thoughts, his kind eyes approaching her tear-blurred vision only to contort into a grotesque creature with a broken jaw and maggot-like things squirming from holes in his face. And he was coming for her, thick claws extended with blood as red as sunset gleaming all over dead, pale arms. They grabbed her face and a long tongue extended, infested and infected, parasites swarming--
Quinn screamed, or at least tried to. Her mouth opened just as a long stand of sandy goop fell, dripping into her mouth and the ranger's response was immediate. She fell back, her fingers attempting to break themselves against the glass as she gagged and hacked. All she saw was darkness, the harsh black pulled over her vision as the putrid taste almost made her pass out.
Status: Mentally unstable and a bit dying.
Items:
- Crossbow - Small dagger - Default clothes/armor - Metal canteen filled with water - Strips of leather - Small packets of food
Modified Skills
Harrier (Passive) - Targets a vulnerable enemy and deals extra damage.
Blinding Assault (Q) - Fires a range of arrows aimed directly at the eyes. - Will blind the target if any arrow hits them. They cannot be blinded more than once per Q.
Heightened Senses (W) - ON CD. - Attacking a vulnerable target will grant Quinn bonus attack speed. - Quinn will put herself in a state of 'Heightened Senses', gaining an increase in awareness in Valor's absence. All area within range (2100) will be revealed to her for 2 seconds, including things in utter darkness and fog.
Post by Naiyu Persici Lu on Jan 17, 2014 12:02:13 GMT -5
There was no real way for Naiyu to prepare herself for what happened. The fight had looked all but hopeless for the longest while, the sudden submission of the skeletal fighter filling Naiyu with a near dizzying amount of relief and hope-
Only to be crushed as the sands began to wash over her prison unabated.
With a startled cry the silver haired Summoner staggered, the sand quickly engulfing her small frame. She began to panic, whining and scratching in vain at the changing sand till the stench permeated the glass and assaulted her senses.
Alcohol. Thick and stifling, stinging the very farthest insides of her nose and throat and making breathing an agonizing torture. It burned through her mind, bringing back the petrifying memories of her detestable youth she'd tried so hard to forget. The apprehension as the smell grew potent, the scorching sensation in her eyes and nose as it was breathed over her face and punished flesh, the excruciating sting as it splashed and violated her open sores and delicate bruises, made all the more worse by possible shards of broken glass from the liquid's container being brought down on her...
The horrible memories crashed over her and progressively got worse, the disgustingly putrid reek filling her lungs and emptying her stomach. The panic rising in her only got worse, screams and cries violently escaping the shuddering girl as she embraced herself, nails digging deep into the exposed flesh of her arms and drawing deep red blood. She had slowly gotten used to the offensive stench of the blasted concoction around her admired teacher, Jacob. But this degree, this sheer crushing pressure of scent...it was too much to bare on her already shaky mind, just like her Mother had been...
With a tearfully choked sob and another heave of her already aching chest, her golden hues squeezed shut, refusing to watch as the glass grew darker and darker with an unnerving slick substance, obscuring the safety she could gain by looking to her fellow members of this ghastly play. No doubt they all were dealing with this as well, though maybe the smell of alcohol wouldn't affect them as badly. Lucky them. The thought was intended to make her stay strong, but coupled with the crushing 'sand' around her robbing her slowly of the ability to breathe, and the air that filled her overly abused lungs being laced with that pungent odour, it did nothing but make her bitter and resentful that one one else would be affected this way, as far as she knew.
Her hands reached up and scrapped harshly against the murky glass, strangled whimpers and desperate cries ripping painfully from her dry and protesting throat as she clawed hard enough to being drawing blood from her fingers. She couldn't think, she couldn't function,she simply struggled blindly. All she could manage were frightened, child-like cries to those nearby, hoping for some glimmer of hope that this wasn't to be how she died...surrounded by the smell of the woman that caused her so much inner turmoil and pain... Status: Panicking and inflicting self-injury (82%)
Items: Clothing Papers Pens 1 bottle of water 3 rations 1 lighter 1 gauze and 2 splints 1 section of rope
Post by Razie Tynerson on Jan 17, 2014 13:34:38 GMT -5
Razie let out a sigh of relief as Sendrel disappeared and pushed down his gog- that's right, he couldn't fit them into the proto-armor... instead he simply pushed down his visor and let himself have a brief moment of peace, that is before the sand turned to some disgusting substance that was enough for him to simply shriek. Though even that wouldn't be possible seeing as it was producing a smell that seemed to ignore the protection of his armor and find it's target right to his nostrils and it was immediately painting a picture a picture in his mind, a girl... waving to him with a smile in an area of blankness.
This pretty picture wouldn't last long however as the girl was instantly and brutally smashed by a creature he couldn't describe with mere words, though one thing he could describe was the blood and flesh of her hitting him in the face and with that the smell revealed it's true colors. The hideous stench of guilt, failing to protect someone he cared for as well as guilt for creating something that would eventually be the end of all he cared about. He did not wish to see anymore of this too-vivid picture, he knew that it was fake but the problem was that it was just TOO real, he was feeling the blood on his own ha- wait... he WAS bleeding. The substance that he was now trapped in had gotten into his armor and possibly caused a malfunction somewhere along it's delicate structure, in case of malfunction the proto-armor would simply detatch itself from it's wearer in order to avoid meaningful damage. Though that obviously couldnt happen with the little space this prison was giving him, the once sleek white material had been having internal problems, and if he couldn't get it off soon he wasn't exactly sure what was going to happen to him or the armor.
Razie status: 85% currently bleeding heavily from the forearms. Proto Armor now malfunctioning causing damage to wearer, power supply at 72% and dropping as long as it remains worn. Equipment:
Backpack with water and sandwhiches (minus 1, 9 left)
A dozen Spark Taps
The Gloves, which he was wearing underneath the proto-armor Gigashield set which was being worked on with the passive "Open for Business" in order to tweak their function.
His pistol with 3 rounds and 5 magazines remaining
Sendrel, though dissatisfied with being unable to clock the rogue, grinned. I'll have to remember that combo for later, he thought, examining his body. He pulled his canteen from where it was perched on his hip, took a swig of water, then dribbled some on his chest and legs to wash any remaining poison away. It was then that he noticed the fogging glass and decaying sand. His heart dropped at the sight.
Before Sendrel could walk over and examine the glass for weak points, a scent washed over him. A scent he had long forgotten. The smell of body odor, harsh chemicals, and above all... slop. Typical smells of a lunchroom in Zaun. Sendrel's eyes flew wide as he dropped his staff and fell to all four limbs, shaking. The memories washed over him. Memories of true loneliness. More than that. Feeling unwanted, unwelcome in the world. Being a punching bag, a scapegoat, and above all, a target. They beckoned in emotions which he had shooed out long ago.
Disease-ridden maggot-sack, destined for failure, fellow students would jeer, sticking their tongues out at him. They'd tear his precious math work to shreds. They'd steal his lunch, then throw it away, saying they didn't want his "sickness." "I never deserved it..." Sendrel muttered, "I was born that way... why pick on me?" The harsher bullies would back him into a corner and kick him until he cried. Sendrel would be crying in the pyramid, if his tear ducts were still functional. He remembered the feeling of being in the lunchroom, unguarded by teachers. So...
Vulnerable.
The word struck a chord in Sendrel, and he remembered what it meant. Vulnerability. Weakness. It was what Viktor had eliminated in him. I am not vulnerable any longer. His exoskeleton and staff protected him from the elements, his coldness protected him from emotional pain. If the students could see me now... If he could find them now, living their insignificant lives, likely having forgotten him by this point, he'd crush them. Crush them, he thought. Before he could stop it, it came out of his mouth, a grating cry of "CRUSH THEM ALL!" He got up, now angry over having fallen for such a silly ploy, walked over to where the rogue's body had fallen, picked up the skull in his left hand, and hurled it at the wall, where it shattered on impact. He then picked up The Key, paper, and coin from within the cloak and held them up to the ceiling.
"I beat your challenge, pyramid!" he shouted, "Now let them go!" ____________________________________________________ Status: Really pissed off (85%)
Last Edit: Jan 19, 2014 14:28:36 GMT -5 by Sendrel
Post by Kevin Droflum on Jan 19, 2014 14:24:30 GMT -5
Kevin had remained calm through the whole ordeal, he put his faith into the metal man to defeat the rogue. When the skeletal man collapsed, he was relieved that his faith was well placed. However, the sand did not stop following when their opponent died, it seemed to be falling quicker than ever. Not only was it falling quicker, but the sand seemed different.
"Oh god..."
Were the only two words that he could let out before the smell hit him. Instantly putting his hood over his nose, he tried to breath again. Unfortunately, the smell got through. Putting both of his hands on the glass he vomited into the sand. After taking a few moments to recover, he pounded on the glass in an attempt to get Sendrel's attention so that he might be able to break it or lift them.
Post by The Narrator on Jan 21, 2014 15:56:29 GMT -5
Participants:
Razie Gillam Kevin Naiyu Sendrel Ozzy Dominic/Talon Quinn
The ground beneath the heavy glass began to rumble, then shake as if to throw all of those trapped off balance. The stone groaned, a crackling sound bursting upwards in a hiss of air and it sounded as if someone had thrown stones into a grinder. The sound echoed as the black murk continued to flow, weighing the bottom of the hourglasses down. When the sludge almost reached the top, effectively drowning the party still captive, the floor shuddered before splitting down the middle and released hourglass and everything within straight down.
The party would fall, the sand and sludge twisting and turning before colliding with the ground with a wet squelch. The glass would no doubt shatter, perhaps because the magic has been broken or because of the sheer distance in which they dropped. Providing they survived the fall, they would find themselves on a platform below two halves of a broken bridge. The ledge would be around 18 feet high, far too high for someone to jump. The platform was relatively large, but down below would be a drop beyond the scope of measurement. Everything was pitch black over the edge, and faint screams and gleaming points can be seen if one squints hard enough.
The sludge around the party would then begin to vibrate, weak hisses like toxic burning coming from the pools as they suddenly slipped away as if being summoned. And over the edge rose a monstrosity of massive proportion, the sludge slipping and sliding like little children as they flew up to cling and reattach themselves to the horror.
A rumble filled the empty air, and then it was silent. The monster seemed to have no body, or arms. Only writhing, tentacle-looking protrusions that ended with blinking creatures that looked like eyes. It's entire body oozed slime, but what flesh could be seen beneath the 'skin' was raw, rubbed red from corruption.
When it opened its mouth to yawn, massive teeth slipped out. As long as swords and twice as sharp, they lined the inside and outside of the beast's mouth like a mutated shark. Its jaw was stretched thin, strands of flesh pulling and tugging as it breathed out loudly. The same stench from the within the hourglass would blast the party once more, though less strong due to the open space.
A single eye opened, right in the middle and above the fleshy lump above his mouth. Brown and bloodshot, it twisted and turned, rolling back and forth before the teeth slid out once more and a terrible screech rang out.
Good luck.
Last Edit: Jan 21, 2014 16:07:09 GMT -5 by The Narrator
Post by Razie Tynerson on Jan 21, 2014 16:36:43 GMT -5
As they were released from their nearly drowning prisons they were dropped, luckily (?) for Razie he landed on his stomach but still felt plenty of pain and with his armor malfunctioning the fall didn't help his situation one bit. But at least they were out of that horrible sten- NOPE. He felt it blast him once more and struggled to his feet, he could see his own blood pouring from the arms as well as the right leg of his armor and that was not good, he'd have to either get the entire suit off and begin the maintenance of it or endure the pain it was causing.
A sudden screech interrupted his moment of though that shocked him and sent him back to the floor and he saw what they were now up against, he tried to alert the others if they had managed to survive their fall that is...
"I've no reccomendations for disposing this creature... miss Naiyu if you're still alive I HIGHLY suggest a group healing." He found his voice was weak, but if any of his party was conscious they should get the message.
He reached inside his left pocket and threw a Spark Tap at the beast, if it hit maybe they'd have a chance to collect themselves while it felt a stinging electric charge. He followed by charging his Gloves with whatever power he was able to get from the Proto-Armor and decided if his armor was going to fail on him it would fail with him a bloody mess and a drained power supply.
Action: Threw a single Spark Tap at the creature. Charging what power he can scavange from gloves/armor for as many rounds of Sonic Blasts his body/armor can handle.
Razie status: 69% (HA) currently bleeding heavily from the forearms as well as right leg and back, though the former was unnoticed. Proto Armor now malfunctioning causing damage to wearer, power supply at 67% and dropping as long as it remains worn.
Equipment:
Backpack with water and sandwhiches (minus 1, 9 left)
A dozen Spark Taps, (1 used, 11 remaining.)
The Gloves, which he was wearing underneath the proto-armor
Gigashield set which was being worked on with the passive "Open for Business" in order to tweak their function.
His pistol with 3 rounds and 5 magazines remaining
Last Edit: Jan 21, 2014 16:52:20 GMT -5 by Razie Tynerson
Ozzy stopped attempting to shatter the glass as the gurgling and shaking sounded, he took deep breath of the foul air and sighed, images of being ground slowly from the feet up filled his mind causing him to shudder and gag as the nasty stench continued to fill his nostrils. Then the sludge filled the whole tank, submerging him in filth completely. It took all his will not to open his mouth and release a torrent of vomit before no doubt inhaling it and chocking to death on his last meal.
The he felt a sudden force dragging him down, his mind simply blacking out causing his body to go limp instead of facing whatever death waited for him. His rag-dolled down the hole, sludge sloshing and slapping around his unconscious form while he plummeted into oblivion. Ozzy's arm shot out as a subconscious attempt at stopping himself from going face first into the ground, the sound of his left wrist snapping was drowned out by the hourglass as it shattered around him, his coat and hat protected him from the majority of the glass yet a few pieces managed to slice into his hands.
Slowly coming to Ozzy woke coughing violently, saliva and gunk was spat from his lungs, following by a torrent of vomit that left him only feeling worse. He attempted to push himself from the ground only to have a sharp pain shoot through his left wrist and elbow, he cried out briefly and collapsed onto the ground, pushing himself onto his back with his right arm to stop from falling into the pool of spew. It seemed as though he had sprained his elbow and snapped his wrist in the fall.
Using his robotic arms as a support he pushed himself onto his knees and looked up at the monstrous creature only to swear under his breath, "...Fuck sake."
Condition: Left human elbow sprained, left human wrist broken. Feeling like he should probably shoot himself soon. ... Kinda hungry A few cuts on his hands and face from the glass.
Equipment: Four Hextech Revolvers. Duster Coat. Wide Rimmed Hat. Silver Spectacles. Ammunition strapped across his belt and around his legs. Leather Sack - contains, a weeks worth of dried foods, two bottles of water and a bottle of rum.
Post by Naiyu Persici Lu on Jan 22, 2014 17:25:22 GMT -5
There were few moments where someone would regret being conscious. The idea that somehow you would have been better off out cold as the events around you played out in a painfully obscene gesture to reality. There were few, but Naiyu was currently adding a bit to that list.
Having effectively clawed a good portion of blood from her arms and managing to slit various gashes along her hands through struggling, the frantic woman only grew increasingly wild and panicked as the ground began to rock beneath her. With a mighty tremor the ground seemed to cry out, the hourglasses responding in turn and seeking to swallow them whole. This was moment number one Naiyu wished she were not in the land of the conscious.
The nauseating gunk quickly engulfed her completely, reaching far too high for her to possibly hope of getting to the top of it. It burned into her open wounds and nearly crushed her through sheer force of volume, the agonizing sting sending blinding flashes of white hot pain through her shut eyes as hot tears sprung forth. It took every fiber of willpower in her being not to scream in anguish, least the disgustingly vile liquid make its way into her mouth and make her demise more sickeningly sad than it already was going to be. With her mind full of painful memories and resigning with despair, she waited for the end to take her...
Only it didn't.
As her lungs nearly relented at the task of holding her breath under all the pressure, a sudden violent explosion of force smashed the hourglass apart, the mush departing her form along with another powerful wave of that detestable stench of alcohol. The Summoner attempted to bring her hand up to cover her face from the stench and immediately regretted for the second time being even remotely conscious. Her eyes slammed shut, a blood curdling scream tearing through the air at the realization of her badly mangled arm. Pain surged through her body, more tears burning paths down her dirtied cheeks. She was already familiar with having broken limbs, but the pain never dulled, never got any better or merciful.
"I've no reccomendations for disposing this creature... miss Naiyu if you're still alive I HIGHLY suggest a group healing."
Through the haze of white noise ringing between her ears Naiyu made out their Leader's voice, as soft and barely audible as it was. With much effort her bloodshot sunset orbs scanned all present,noting the floating monstrosity with a tangible disdain seething through her clenched teeth in a hiss. Her eyes stayed on it as she prepared her healing, forcing herself to her feet as she did so. With a sputtered cough that produced unnoticed blood on her lips, she did her best to move towards the center of those around.
"...E-veryone...g-ather t-together, please...I'll start...getting everyone...back t-to health..." With that her emerald butterflies glinted into existence, encircling Razie firstly, as he was their Leader and visibly losing much blood. Status: Self Injured, broken arm from fall and back marred with glass (unnoticed), mentally rattled (61%)
Items: Clothing Papers Pens 1 bottle of water 3 rations 1 lighter 1 gauze and 2 splints 1 section of rope
Post by Demacia's Wings on Jan 23, 2014 0:51:28 GMT -5
There was sound, Quinn realized dully, as the thick murk continued to spread across her limbs and flesh like a rash of clinging spider webs. She couldn't breathe, and she found that it did not matter. Her heartbeat continued to beat, struggling and crying as her mind screamed disarmingly at her but some part of Quinn could not bring herself to care. It was this world and the next; this world, with pain and anger and tears, with fear and swallowed pride wallowing on the ground. There was the next life, and there was Caleb. Her brother and what remained to be the light right before it snuffed so unexpectedly.
Quinn involuntarily inhaled a lump of gunk and she choked, her body curling up within her glass prison. She was floating in a sea of terror, but the smell could not catch her. The scent of death and despair battered at her broken soul but there was nothing left to break. Just a figure who seemed so small with a blackened smile swirling within.
Movement and sound began to shake her bones and the ranger wondered if this was what death was like. If the end would be just as painful and if Caleb would catch her before she shattered and bring her to his cottage in the afterlife. Quinn could have laughed at herself now for such a thought if it didn't hurt so damn much. Her tears had nowhere to go and she was a lamb lost in the infinite space of mute acceptance.
Thoughts of a red-headed assassin, lips curved into a wicked smile and a sharpened dagger plunging into her side roared into the barrier of her mind. Images of a man, shifting awkwardly with a bladed cloak whispered like a sigh over high grass and words, promises of a city and revenge. The rumble grew louder and Quinn could only focus on the burning in her lungs because she didn't want to remember.
Just when her heart gave in, tired and afraid of fighting and falling, there was light, voices and movement.
Then there was air.
Quinn's mouth opened in a loud gasp, hacking and heaving as the disgusting sand she had ingested flew from her mouth and landed onto the ground. She did not see them shake and move, sliding away like something alive. Quinn was still blinded by the oxygen pumping through her veins and the sudden flash of hope. She lay there, panting in the midst of shards of glass piercing and puncturing her skin. She didn't care.
Her first thought was to ask if she was dead, but dead people don't breathe and wheeze and ask if they were dead in the first place. She managed to move her right hand, feeling for the weapon normally attached to her person. Her fingers landed on familiar metal, slick with the black gunk and what was possibly her blood.
Alive.
Voices, voices, voices. Unfamiliar voices rang in her bloodied ears, the sound too loud for her and the light burning as she cracked her eyes open the best she could. That was when the pain caught up with her and suddenly, her body shuddered. There was a burning in her shoulder, she couldn't tell which for on her lower torso seared a pain so great, she could only liken it to a fiery whip lash being laid out on her bare flesh. Quinn could only whimper, and the sound was small for her throat was raw on the inside and bruised on the outside.
So great was the pain flaring from her body, the internal haze almost blocked out the horrific scream that pierced the air not moments later. But black spots had begun to swim in front of Quinn's fading vision as she struggled to sit up and assess the damage done.
Status:
Mentally: Regaining stability (65%) Physically: Crushed left shoulder, split lip; bleeding very heavily from one long gash in particular from just below her right rib to her left hip which will no doubt leave a scar. Innumerable scratches and bruises. (45%)
Items:
- Crossbow - Small dagger - Default clothes/armor - shredded and torn in some places. - Metal canteen filled with water - Strips of leather - Small packets of food
Post by Kevin Droflum on Jan 27, 2014 1:46:55 GMT -5
Kevin was trying to recompose himself when the goop like sand started to shake and vibrate. He was caught off guard when the floor vanished from under him. Fortunately, cats always land on their feet, unfortunately, Kevin only had two feet. Landing directly on his left knee, it completely shattered. His hands went up as well in an attempt to break the fall. However, they fell from too high, so when he landed on his hands, they too broke and fractured. When it seemed the worst was over, the sound of a massive crash once again caught him off guard. A medium sized piece of glass caught him across the forehead before hitting the ground and shattering. Kevin lay on the ground, his body as a whole seemed to be broken. He lay in silence, trying to internally deal with the pain, unaware of the beast in the room or if any of his group survived the fall. __________________________________________ Spells currently copied. 1. SparkBolt 2. Earth Exoskeleton. 3. Fire Manipulation
Status: Injured, Bleeding (75%) Shattered knee, major gash across forehead, fractured wrists. Gear: Civilian clothes (Torn/Dirty/Bloody) Lighter (99%) 9 cans of food 5 bottles of water Blanket Medium size backpack
Last Edit: Jan 27, 2014 1:47:42 GMT -5 by Kevin Droflum
Post by The Blade's Shadow on Jan 27, 2014 6:29:53 GMT -5
Things started moving before Talon had a chance to react, the ground under him leaving all too quickly for his liking. He had spent time in dangerous, precarious situations atop Noxian rooftops and the slippery, terrible sewers before and it was only for that grace that his body seemed to respond mechanically to the sudden sensation of falling.
He found his feet and attempted to roll as he thought his body would impact the ground, practiced muscle memory finally failing him, guiding himself with a hand that wasn't there. The stump just below his right elbow impacted the ground with all of his force, the bones contained within breaking near instantaneously, though he managed to avoid any massive damage from the fall.
The glass that showered down on him, as well as his bladed cloak, however, were not so kind. The glass found him first, lacerating his back and shoulders in several places but many of the tiny shards were gracious enough not to do much more than shred his clothing. His pair of cloaks, now free of their bindings, fell onto him next, separating from one another, the heavy, metal tipped one leaving four deep gashes across his lower back before clattering to the ground. The other, lighter one, simply draped over him comically, though the stinging sensation as it touched his fresh wounds was anything but funny to Talon.
Battered and bruised, Talon was glad only to be free of the shifting, foul death that he had been in, though it hardly seemed like a blessing now. The bigger, near empty room was thankfully wide enough to make his memories fade, no longer trapped with the awful muck and jolted back into reality by a healthy dose of pain. He pushed his cloak from his back and stood, feeling his muscles howling in protest to the motion.
Whatever fresh horror it was awaited him, he couldn't put a name to it. It seemed, however, only to want to bellow at them. Small mercies, anything really, was more than appreciated. He reached up and pulled his goggles down over his eyes, endlessly glad that there was nothing within them. At least something could remain sacred in this pit of seemingly unending despair. Attempting his level best to ignore the ear-shattering screech that had filled the room, he sought out the only person in here who mattered anymore. His eyes found her, moving no less, not far from him. This entire place had been a mistake but it hadn't claimed his meal ticket yet.
Small mercies.
Status: Mental: Rattled but more mentally stable now than before. Brought around by pain. (80%) Physical: Right arm broken below the elbow, though there isn't much to break. Bleeding heavily from the back, neck and cheeks, no vital organs damaged. (55%)
Cooldowns: None expended
Items: Armblade (Equipped to left arm) Longsword (Sheathed) 10 Rake Blades (Hidden) One week's travel rations (Spoiled) Outland Gear (Gross) Goggles
Post by The Narrator on Jan 30, 2014 4:24:27 GMT -5
Participants:
Razie Gillam Kevin Naiyu Sendrel Ozzy Dominic/Talon Quinn
"Worms."
The single hiss was strange, the word a gurgle spewing from its horrific mouth. It's single eye rolled towards the man who had thrown a pebble at it. The electricity seemed to have no noticeable effect on it, though its mouth looked as if it had been stretched a little wider. There were three on the ground, crawling like grubs as another seemed to conjure some kind of strange magic to life. The monster did not flinch, only a long tongue snaked out from the depths of its great maw to taste the air around it. It seemed not to care what the small ones were doing; they were a small nuisance, but a nuisance nonetheless.
"You must be grateful," the voice droned, the sound reminiscent of a buzzing hive of angry bees echoing in the spacious black beyond. "For my hatred for those who have imprisoned me far exceeds any such irritation caused by your presence. I shall offer you a chance... an opportunity to leave, untouched and unharmed." The eye continued to move, flickering left and right as its long, thin tongue slipped out to taste the air once more, then again.
"We are the Devourers. Our society is intelligent, dangerously so and we are fearsome fighters. All who speak our name tremble in fear. Yet our intelligence and logic is matched by our greed, for we are tainted and plagued by a desire for gold and any manner of riches or resource." Its tendrils continued to coil in the empty air as its eye drenched the party in its all-seeing gaze. "To you worms, I offer a question. One that you must answer correctly."
Then the eye stilled and its voice grew darker, the sound a blanket over the perpetual shadows that lingered anxiously. It did not wait.
"A colony of my kind dwells unseen in this world. We have recently conquered a small civilization, if it could even be called as such. During such plunder, we acquired two hundred units of resources, be it gold or food or any such thing. All items are equal in value.
We exist in a rigid, linear society. Each and every one of us is either higher or lower than another. No man is equal. Then there is the King - the one who leads us to victory. The decisions fall on the King, but we are kind to our people. We, shall we say, vote. Every man will do so readily. However, we do not tolerate failings of logic. Should the King's suggestion be refused, he will immediately be slain on the spot in a most horrendous manner and his title granted to the one below him. Then the next King shall proceed with the ritual once again. In order to pass a proposal, at least half of the Devourers must agree with the distribution. There is no deliberation amongst the army about the proposal and votes are tallied immediately.
This King in particular lusts for sustenance and finds himself before the gates of a plentiful settlement, which he wishes to plunder and pillage. And so, worms, I ask this of you:
How great is the size of his army... if he is to expect zero losses?"
When the Devourer's strange tale drew to its conclusion, the great eye blinked and the mouth curled up in a frightening manner. "Know that my patience wears thin quite rapidly, mortals. You must answer swiftly. One answer, one traveler. Or you shall be devoured on the spot."
And then the monster was still.
You have been asked a riddle, or a brain teaser. The Devourer is smarter than it looks, and will not repeat nor answer any questions about the question it has posed. You may discuss this between yourselves in the thread, but note that time is against you.
Beware, for the Devourers are not known for their mercy.
Last Edit: Feb 12, 2014 5:38:45 GMT -5 by The Narrator
Sendrel groaned, finally getting up from where he lay on the floor. The impact of the fall had knocked the contents of his stomach loose, and a small pool of bile and water was on the floor at his feet. The impact had left no significant marks on his exoskeleton, but he felt like complete crap. He slowly hobbled over to Naiyu, clutching the collected artifacts against his stomach. He payed little heed to the formulation of the skull thing, as he was more concerned with self preservation than what the pyramid held to stop him.
As the thing spoke, he listened, thinking. "Wants no losses..." he muttered, "Overwhelming force is an option, but this is a riddle..." He turned to Razie and whispered "Perhaps the answer is no soldiers at all...?"
Post by Razie Tynerson on Jan 31, 2014 4:30:52 GMT -5
Razie wasn't happy about being the first one healed in the slightest bit, the role he would be serving in this wouldn't require him in peak physical condition. Had this creature before them shown it sought violence then immediately he would've requested someone like Gilam or Dominic restored in order to combat their newest adversary while he stayed comfortable in the back and fed his allies information on how to dispose of what lay in front of them.
He let the healing magic flow through him and used this time to focus on the words of the creature: There were few words that stuck in his mind as the creature let them loose. Unseen, conqueror's, king, army. To him they were hints that didn't make sense... if a king were to invade a peaceful neighbor and expect zero losses then obviously there is no battle to be fought, there was more to this riddle than what this creature was saying but he wasn't going to be the one to ask it for a hint. The devourers clearly played a role in this but he was unsure if it was wise to discuss it among his allies, he was over thinking... probably from severe blood loss.
It was confusing even to him, but he supposed that was the creatures goal after all. His own thoughts on how to answer were interrupted by Sendrel who presented his own to the inventor, of course the cyborg's response was typical. The creature had given them an answer in the question itself and while obvious if one paid attention it was just TOO obvious for him to go along with.
"No." he whispered, "it's what this creature wants you to believe because it's the most logical, there's more meaning to this... the rest of you, voice your thoughts, I have a theory growing." with that he went back to his thoughts and begin to draw the situation they were presented for better representation, though he stopped once he had all of the major details of the creatures tail and awaited his allies thoughts on the matter, if they were capable of even focusing on it with their injuries that is.
Razie status: 65% currently bleeding heavily from the forearms with healing imminent.
Currently in extreme thought over the question and adding variables or comments that are voiced to his 'equation.'
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