The Flag of Sundering (Fantasy)
- Location
- Australia
I would guess that they're under/over numbers. X/Y would then mean "roll less than X and epically fail, roll more than Y and epically succeed". Presumably a roll somewhere in the middle is... well, somewhere in the middle, though higher is probably still better.
I don't think the GM ever actually explained those numbers though, so that's just my guess.
And yes, that means we fucked up the gatehouse completely.
Isola of Illerand: 3
RahXephon
Monarch
- Location
- The Netherlands
[X] You are the flag that stands at the head of a fearless horde. For a short time, you have the power to rally the minds of men. Any wavering allies will find sudden courage, and any stalwart comrades will battle with twice the ferocity. Besides tasting the blood of the conquered, you are able to grow stronger with each deathblow a soldier fighting under your banner inflicts.
Isola of Illerand
3
3
You are the flag that stands at the head of a fearless horde. For years upon years your wielders have rallied numerous armies under your banner. The mere sight of your blue fabric was enough to inspire even the most dispirited troops into fighting formidable opposition. Successive victories against sorcerer-kings and barbarian overlords alike have cemented your wielders as the most talented commanders that have graced the world of Bezor. No soldier ever needed to lose heart when fighting under your colors.
It was an insult that no one remembered what it meant to fight under you. Not a single Yrnian or Fellerim soldier looked upon your banner with awe. This would not do at all. In the golden times of your existence, the third ancestor of your first wielder had ridden from one end of the continent to the other, overwhelming all the petty kingdoms and empires through confidence and sheer force of will. None had deserted the unending march. Even the lowliest footmen had absolute faith in the wielders of the flag.
Isola of Illerand enjoyed none of those advantages. She was as ignorant as any other soldier in the field. But even as she despaired over her company's faltering courage, she knew even without your intervention that she needed to rally her men and renew the push towards the increasingly elusive gatehouse. Her company wasn't required to stand and fight. It just needed to take control over the gates and let the king's army inside the citadel.
(Flag rally: DC = 10/70. Dice Roll = 62)
Captain Isola rose the flag, and felt her body come alive as you awaken further from the deaths that have been reaped under your flag. All the energy ignited a hidden furnace inside of you that allowed you to announce your presence in the battlefield by emitting a fiery red glow. Even the illumination provided by the torches paled in comparison with your majesty. The Yrnians looked weirdly at what they thought was a minor magical artifact, but turned their attentions back to trying to block and surround the saboteurs.
The light had a much more drastic effect on the men under Isola's command. Those who fought resolutely suddenly fought as if they were on fire. Those who considered surrender put it out of their minds completely and threw their bodies into the enemy with abandon. Even the cowards who already surrendered picked up their fallen swords and resumed the fight with battle cries in their throats.
(Morale Check Yrn: DC = 40/80. Dice Roll = 70)
The surge of courage invigorated the Fellerims enough to bull through most of the defending Yrnians. The sleepy and unarmored defenders were being cut down left and right as the enemy in their midst made steady progress to the gatehouse.
"Make way! Make way for the cavalry!"
That was until a contingent of guardsmen from the keep slammed into the Fellerims from the rear. Isola looked back at what was nipping at her heels and stilled momentarily at the opposition. These guards were likely on duty at this hour, and somehow managed to organize themselves and follow her company's footsteps with considerable speed. Though not too great in numbers, the guards proved difficult to kill due to their full armor. Isola's rearguard only reluctantly turned to keep the guards in check, but the duels turned into a stalemate that allowed them to get cut off by the wakening Yrnians.
Lieutenant Lansing cursed the Gods as he saw how many men they had just lost. "We're already down more than two-thirds of what we started, captain!"
"I know, but we've almost reached the gatehouse. We can't turn back." Isola gritted as she slammed the butt of the flag against the head of a screaming Yrnian. He wasn't screaming now.
When the vanguard finally reached the left side of the imposing gatehouse, they found their entry to be blocked. A couple of the soldiers reared back and slammed their shoulders and boots against the sturdy wooden door. "It's barricaded! They've pushed a ton of furniture in front of the door!"
"No no no." Captain Isola said as their forward momentum halted abruptly due to this simple obstacle. "We're never getting inside like this. Burn the door!"
A couple of her torch bearing troops came forward and tried to get the door to catch on fire. The Yrnians had recently replaced whatever rotting wood the citadel used to have and put in place a stout and reinforced door. Only by throwing nearby tents and other flammables in front of the new door were the men able to get it and whatever was ahead catch on fire.
"It's taking too much time!" Lansing shouted as he joined the men from getting overwhelmed by the unending waves of Yrnians.
Isola tried to keep her flag up high in order to give her men heart, but all the courage in Bezor wasn't able to stand against sheer numbers. Isola's troops, already savaged from marching through a garrisoned courtyard, only numbered a hundred soldiers now. That number grew less with each blink. Barely fifty still held onto their lives when the door finally collapsed. Isola didn't wait for the fires to die down.
"Lieutenant, take half of the men and hold this entrance. I'll take the other half and storm up this blasted gatehouse."
Lansing - loyal to her father, and now to her - nodded grimly at her command. Neither of them were under any illusion that Lansing and his contingent would live past this night.
"Go. May the Gods bless your endeavor."
Those were his last words. Captain Isola tried to take it in stride and stepped in front of the burning debris that settled around the collapsed doorway. "Go up."
(Gatehouse Assault: 30/70. Dice Roll = 12)
Isola's heaviest soldiers led the way, their bulk and shields easily smashing through the charred wood. Though the fire gave them some painful licks, their armor shielded them from the worst of the heat. More men followed inside and with each metal footstep the flames dimmed into impotence.
When Isola stepped inside, most of her ragged but determined troops had already climbed up the steps leading to the mechanism that held the gates shut. She heard fierce fighting up top and she raced to join her men. Cursing the King, Isola bumped past some of the injured troops in order to join the final melee.
Only to see a giant of a knight slam three of her footsoldiers against the wall with a single swing of his warhammer. The knight and his well-equipped men-at-arms had been waiting for their opponents upstairs. Though they only numbered twelve in total, the stairway acted as an effective chokepoint that severely limited Isola's options. The defenders were chopping down her men as fast as they could reach the top of the stairway. Only a couple of men-at-arms were taken out in return.
It was almost over when Isola ordered a halt. She was proud that all of her remaining comrades had fought to the death rather than contemplate a surrender. Yet it still left three able-bodied men-at-arms as well as the towering knight blocking the way for Isola and about a dozen of her surviving troops. Isola knew her luck had run out. She and her band of conscripts and ill-trained footmen stood no chance against four warriors of the highest quality. The knight alone could crush half her men.
"I am Gortred. Knight under the banner of Yrn. Before I slay you and put this pitiful surprise attack into the grave, may I know who I have the pleasure of facing in honorable combat?"
Having come up with nothing else but buy some time, Isola stepped forward to let the flag and the torches illuminate her face. "I am Captain Isola of Illerand, commander of the Illerand Company."
The knight grimaced under his open helmet. "Your miserable excuse of a king has sent a wench to do a man's job. There is no honor in slaying a woman."
"I am who I am. I did not ask to participate in this war, let alone fight at the front."
"You have courage, I see." Sir Gortred remarked. "I shall honor that, I suppose, and give you a clean death. Upon my word, I will treat your corpse with the dignity befitting a lady of stature."
"I.. see. Thank you." The Isola reluctantly said, putting an end to this surreal conversation. They hadn't even crossed weapons and already the knight assumed she would die. Not that it was all that unreasonable to make this assumption. Gortred looked as if he lived and breathed for war ever since he took his first breath. His large build, his heavy and well-worn armor and the ease of which he swung his mighty hammer all proved he was without a doubt a noble warrior.
Compared to the knight's immense prowess in battle, Isola was a stalk of grass facing a storm. She had been raised in her household as a lady, learning embroidery and composing poetry under the watchful eye of her mother and her tutors. Even after her family's disgrace, Isola was too busy managing her unruly company of men to even consider devoting time on how to wield a weapon. The flag in her hand would likely be knocked out of her grip in moments if she thought to face the knight in single combat.
Isola had no hope. Her men were dying behind her, Lieutenant Lansing included, all so that they could buy time for her to open the gates. But the knight and his surviving soldiers presented an insurmountable obstacle. Death stalked approached from the front as well as the rear. She was out of men as well as out of ideas. She had nowhere else to turn to... except to you, the flag that once represented something greater.
You considered Isola's predicament, as well as your own. You felt a little disappointed that Captain Isola, for all her hopes and ambitions, failed to succeed in her mission. Yet you do not think you will find a more worthy wielder on the Yrnian side. A flag such as you must be feared and appreciated. How much use will an Yrnian have for a magical but unknown flag carried by a female officer of all things? The risk that you would be thrown in some empty treasury, or outright burned was more than you could stomach.
You had the means to come to Isola's aid. Though it was unfortunate that so many of her men had died, many of them took a fair share of enemies down before they were slain. The rush of essence that emerged from those deaths empowered you, filling up the stagnant well inside of you for the first time in more than a century. Though the cost was considerable, you were not opposed to revealing a measure of your most potent power to the individual who had rescued you from a lifetime of oblivion.
(Flag: 10/70. Dice Roll = 88)
You deepened the bond between you and Isola, causing your dim red glow to turn brighter. Everyone except Isola momentarily shielded their eyes from the flash.
You are more than just a magical flag. You are the flag under which the most worthy of warriors have led countless men and conquered numerous lands that could span the entire world over.
What dread power did you express?
[ ] Your spear point cuts through any material. As flags cuts through uncertainty and proclaims superiority, your blade cannot be denied its rightful share of blood. Even the mightiest armor or the sharpest sword edge will part against the edge of your empowered blade.
[ ] You are able to scorch the earth. Defeat is unacceptable. If your wielder cannot achieve victory, then neither should the enemy gain anything from their success. With a powerful burst of power, you are able to scorch your immediate surroundings, burning all to ash whether they are allies or enemies.
[ ] Write-in.
Mandemon
Gentlemen, I love brawl.
- Location
- Cookie Jar
[X] Write in: You are able to destroy your opponents weapons. With a flash, even the mightiest weapon shall shatter in their wielders hand. No opponent shall oppose your servant, none shall deny you your share of blood. Enchanted or not, your power shall make them crumble in their hands, so that blood may flow in your honor. Let none stand before your servant.
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[X] You are able to bless your holder. While they hold you, their wounds heal faster then should be possible, they gain strength and speed beyond that of ordinary mortals, and the accumulated skill of all your previous holders.
[X] You are able to bless your holder. While they hold you, their wounds heal faster then should be possible, they gain strength and speed beyond that of ordinary mortals, and the accumulated skill of all your previous holders.
As long as this effect remains something that needs to be actively cast, I'm fine with it. Otherwise it runs the risk of completely trivializing the wielders trials and hardships, which are the part of this quest's concept I'm really digging. To follow the hero, with his/her many disadvantages, but instead of dictating her actions, we get to be the plot device enabling the bullshit in an otherwise realistic setting
As long as this effect remains something that needs to be actively cast, I'm fine with it. Otherwise it runs the risk of completely trivializing the wielders trials and hardships, which are the part of this quest's concept I'm really digging. To follow the hero, with his/her many disadvantages, but instead of dictating her actions, we get to be the plot device enabling the bullshit in an otherwise realistic setting
Dark Ness
Rises Where Silence Dies
- Location
- The Primordial Soup
There are many types of hardships that don't involve personal combat. Even if it is automatic, it wouldn't trivilize their trails
[X] You are able to bless your holder. While they hold you, their wounds heal faster then should be possible, they gain strength and speed beyond that of ordinary mortals, and the accumulated skill of all your previous holders.
As long as this effect remains something that needs to be actively cast, I'm fine with it. Otherwise it runs the risk of completely trivializing the wielders trials and hardships, which are the part of this quest's concept I'm really digging. To follow the hero, with his/her many disadvantages, but instead of dictating her actions, we get to be the plot device enabling the bullshit in an otherwise realistic setting
What happens once, may happen once again. We don't know what kind of other cursed artifacts might reside in the hands of our future enemies.
[X] You are able to bless your holder. While they hold you, their wounds heal faster then should be possible, they gain strength and speed beyond that of ordinary mortals, and the accumulated skill of all your previous holders.
[X] You are able to scorch the earth. Defeat is unacceptable. If your wielder cannot achieve victory, then neither should the enemy gain anything from their success. With a powerful burst of power, you are able to scorch your immediate surroundings, burning all to ash whether they are allies or enemies.
[X] You are able to scorch the earth. Defeat is unacceptable. If your wielder cannot achieve victory, then neither should the enemy gain anything from their success. With a powerful burst of power, you are able to scorch your immediate surroundings, burning all to ash whether they are allies or enemies.
- Location
- That Place
[X] You are able to bless your holder. While they hold you, their wounds heal faster then should be possible, they gain strength and speed beyond that of ordinary mortals, and the accumulated skill of all your previous holders.
- Location
- nullptr
[X] You are able to bless your holder. While they hold you, their wounds heal faster then should be possible, they gain strength and speed beyond that of ordinary mortals, and the accumulated skill of all your previous holders.
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LucidProp
Pocky Eating MafiaDoka
[X] You are able to curse your enemies. Every strike, be they against flesh or steel, shall cause unendurable pain to the target's wielder. Their blood will burn, their minds flayed, and their bodies crushed. They shall relive the last moments and feel the collective deathblows suffered by all that fell before you eons ago, and they will weep like newborn babes just like their ancestors before them.
I swear to God, Isola. You're too interesting to die.
I swear to God, Isola. You're too interesting to die.
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[X] You are a vessel of devestation. You have drunk the blood of enemies and the spirits of wielders, killed and been held in the clutch of dying men. You are the Reaper's Mark and the Lion's Fall, and the hourglass turns within you, twisting death into its broken mirror image. For a vast expenditure of power, you may draw an army of those you have damned into the mortal plane and send them berserk at your foes. Once-mighty champions and heroes will fight alongside villains, all reduced to howling ghouls.