A sharp impression of a hammer makes centuries of mystic learning pass like water through a sieve. Now you must rebuild from barely more than nothing.
Wizard: (A Fantasy Amnesia Quest)
- Thread starter Dapperlad1
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Near Death
- Location
- Albania
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The door behind you detonates. Spinning on a heel, you barely recognise the motion of a dozen individuals before a dozen words of power from your lips, channelled through the Wychwood stave, gilded in abyssal brass and heavenly pearl evaporates them in an instant. Their personal experiences of time accelerated to absurdity.
"Who the gods-given fuck is making their last mistake!" Leaves your lips just after that as anger flows through you with reckless abandon. More phrases leave your lips as shields of interweaving power form across your frame, bolstered by the robes of finest angelic leather, inlaid with orbs of power, siphoned from the hearts of foreign life-giving stars.
A crown of power pulses a silver mist around you as dozens of invisible opponents are revealed. "Cunts, the lot of you!" Slamming the stave into the ground, the inscribed words on its haft explode into blinding light. Moments later, the room's air shifts, a haze coming across it as the raiders. Their screams fill your ears as their bodies fall apart into cancerous tumours, overcome by the waves of unseen killing force.
"Now, who the hells else wants to die!" The silvery mist turns into whisper-thin tendrils and seeks outwards towards every chamber of your near-infinite keep. Enemies within are discovered and marked, slain by rote spells targeting specific portions of their physiology with deadly effect, slamming through mystic shielding with superior might. That is until the mist strikes something else.
A rocketing lance of pain aggravates your mind, spurting blood from your nose and sending you stumbling to the ground. "Son of a Tojjarel slut!" More foul vitriol escapes your mouth as the ground rushes up to meet it. Psychic attack, damn fuckers and their cheating bullshit. Your crown, however, heats up, repaying whatever was just done to you seven-fold as the mythic thread ordains. Through the sense-mist, someone's head detonates as their mind is overwhelmed and cooks itself.
Standing shakily after the near-miss of lobotomization. You refocus on the mist, but find it dissipating under an unweaving. "Fuck you!" Is something you roar just after the spell of unmaking strikes the caster, erasing him from existence in totality. And then a knife sinks into your back as a feminine, smug voice whispers, "Didn't see that coming, did ya, wizard?"
"Fucking die!" Escapes your mouth as the angelic leather of the robe leaps off your body and proceeds to hang her off a rafter in a terrifying display of self-animation, ending with a sickening crack and leaving a limp corpse which then falls to the ground as it flutteringly settlers onto your body again. The knife wound the bitch left on you, however, does not stop being a problem so easily.
Words of recovery do very little, the soft hiss of legend-might on the cut rejecting it, bitch must have made a name for herself. "How many more bootlicks are there?!" Frustration boils out of you, annoyed at this impasse. Then the world goes white as the largest spell you've ever been on the receiving end of unmakes your keep.
Senses flutter open in the blinding gemstone of a phylactery just as a hammer blow crushes it, and then another, which is melting in the heart of the local sun. The final phylactery is an awakening that lasts longer as you begin to assemble a body from the skeletons around you, and then a wave of entropy rots away even the diamond of the phylactery, fucking nekromants.
Finally, you awaken in your last contingency that hasn't already been destroyed, breathing a shuddering, heavy breath as the cloned body awakens from stasis in an isolated cabin, somewhere in the northern wood. As soon as you awaken, a hammer falls to your head. You react with vigour, slamming a leg into the armoured hulk of a god-driven warrior dangling with symbols of some deity you can't care to name now. "Go fuck yourself!" Escapes you as you stumble for something to fight with as spell-words scramble through your mind, trying to account for your current divestment of mystic artefacts.
Eventually, you arrive at a simple set, crunching in the steel of his helm with a curse of metal attraction on the bastard's teeth, exhausting yourself to slam through his protective spellwork. As the armour crackles in, he somehow finds the strength to push through the pain and crushing grasp of metal to swing that hammer, something that, recovering from thorough overuse of magic, you cannot dodge and have to sluggishly attempt a roll away from as it falls.
The blinding white of its impact upon your skull confuses you. I'm not going to the Heavens, right? The hazy recollection of the world around you drags some sense of sanity back. The stiff corpse of a paladin on the ground before you brings back the rest of the situation. "Fuck me." Escalating agony pulses from the injury as you speak more words of power, morphing a body identical to yours, with a bleeding head wound and otherwise biologically dead.
That's your last clear conscious thought before you stumble outside into the snow, not realizing your naked state, and proceed to walk for exactly twenty minutes and then suddenly go into shock. The cold numbs you and, hopefully, slows your head wounds bleeding as everything goes dark.
[X] You wake up in a hot place, the air practically boiling, or is that the fever? The ache in your head has abated compared to hazy memories of what seems to be moments ago. Dusty sand fills the room and digs into your wounds like knives, keeping the concepts fresh in your mind. Dim visions of dyed curtains and adobe walls, as well as dark-skinned tenders washing your wounds, provide all you can understand of your surroundings.
CONCEPTS KNOWN: VENTAL (Project), ZJERA (Sand), MPRET (Sharp)
[X] The world is an endless series of cold snaps and warmth periods as all you can see are large, fur-cloaked and armoured warriors, but these ones aren't killing you. Flame fills your vision when you aren't bundled like a babe, and the desperate efforts to keep wet wood burning after travel has stopped is a primary image in your mind.
CONCEPTS KNOWN: SHKATO (Create) ZJARE (Fire), JAH (Hunting)
[X] You awaken in a forest. Head aching but wounds, seemingly, healed enough to function. Not a soul is around you except the woods and the requisite life within. Insects roam in great numbers, attracting your gaze as the world fades into clarity. Their structured motions stick in your mind as concepts play out inside it, relating things to one another.
CONCEPTS KNOWN: PERMRA (Control), KANDRE (Insect), DIAVO (Voice)
"Who the gods-given fuck is making their last mistake!" Leaves your lips just after that as anger flows through you with reckless abandon. More phrases leave your lips as shields of interweaving power form across your frame, bolstered by the robes of finest angelic leather, inlaid with orbs of power, siphoned from the hearts of foreign life-giving stars.
A crown of power pulses a silver mist around you as dozens of invisible opponents are revealed. "Cunts, the lot of you!" Slamming the stave into the ground, the inscribed words on its haft explode into blinding light. Moments later, the room's air shifts, a haze coming across it as the raiders. Their screams fill your ears as their bodies fall apart into cancerous tumours, overcome by the waves of unseen killing force.
"Now, who the hells else wants to die!" The silvery mist turns into whisper-thin tendrils and seeks outwards towards every chamber of your near-infinite keep. Enemies within are discovered and marked, slain by rote spells targeting specific portions of their physiology with deadly effect, slamming through mystic shielding with superior might. That is until the mist strikes something else.
A rocketing lance of pain aggravates your mind, spurting blood from your nose and sending you stumbling to the ground. "Son of a Tojjarel slut!" More foul vitriol escapes your mouth as the ground rushes up to meet it. Psychic attack, damn fuckers and their cheating bullshit. Your crown, however, heats up, repaying whatever was just done to you seven-fold as the mythic thread ordains. Through the sense-mist, someone's head detonates as their mind is overwhelmed and cooks itself.
Standing shakily after the near-miss of lobotomization. You refocus on the mist, but find it dissipating under an unweaving. "Fuck you!" Is something you roar just after the spell of unmaking strikes the caster, erasing him from existence in totality. And then a knife sinks into your back as a feminine, smug voice whispers, "Didn't see that coming, did ya, wizard?"
"Fucking die!" Escapes your mouth as the angelic leather of the robe leaps off your body and proceeds to hang her off a rafter in a terrifying display of self-animation, ending with a sickening crack and leaving a limp corpse which then falls to the ground as it flutteringly settlers onto your body again. The knife wound the bitch left on you, however, does not stop being a problem so easily.
Words of recovery do very little, the soft hiss of legend-might on the cut rejecting it, bitch must have made a name for herself. "How many more bootlicks are there?!" Frustration boils out of you, annoyed at this impasse. Then the world goes white as the largest spell you've ever been on the receiving end of unmakes your keep.
Senses flutter open in the blinding gemstone of a phylactery just as a hammer blow crushes it, and then another, which is melting in the heart of the local sun. The final phylactery is an awakening that lasts longer as you begin to assemble a body from the skeletons around you, and then a wave of entropy rots away even the diamond of the phylactery, fucking nekromants.
Finally, you awaken in your last contingency that hasn't already been destroyed, breathing a shuddering, heavy breath as the cloned body awakens from stasis in an isolated cabin, somewhere in the northern wood. As soon as you awaken, a hammer falls to your head. You react with vigour, slamming a leg into the armoured hulk of a god-driven warrior dangling with symbols of some deity you can't care to name now. "Go fuck yourself!" Escapes you as you stumble for something to fight with as spell-words scramble through your mind, trying to account for your current divestment of mystic artefacts.
Eventually, you arrive at a simple set, crunching in the steel of his helm with a curse of metal attraction on the bastard's teeth, exhausting yourself to slam through his protective spellwork. As the armour crackles in, he somehow finds the strength to push through the pain and crushing grasp of metal to swing that hammer, something that, recovering from thorough overuse of magic, you cannot dodge and have to sluggishly attempt a roll away from as it falls.
The blinding white of its impact upon your skull confuses you. I'm not going to the Heavens, right? The hazy recollection of the world around you drags some sense of sanity back. The stiff corpse of a paladin on the ground before you brings back the rest of the situation. "Fuck me." Escalating agony pulses from the injury as you speak more words of power, morphing a body identical to yours, with a bleeding head wound and otherwise biologically dead.
That's your last clear conscious thought before you stumble outside into the snow, not realizing your naked state, and proceed to walk for exactly twenty minutes and then suddenly go into shock. The cold numbs you and, hopefully, slows your head wounds bleeding as everything goes dark.
[X] You wake up in a hot place, the air practically boiling, or is that the fever? The ache in your head has abated compared to hazy memories of what seems to be moments ago. Dusty sand fills the room and digs into your wounds like knives, keeping the concepts fresh in your mind. Dim visions of dyed curtains and adobe walls, as well as dark-skinned tenders washing your wounds, provide all you can understand of your surroundings.
CONCEPTS KNOWN: VENTAL (Project), ZJERA (Sand), MPRET (Sharp)
[X] The world is an endless series of cold snaps and warmth periods as all you can see are large, fur-cloaked and armoured warriors, but these ones aren't killing you. Flame fills your vision when you aren't bundled like a babe, and the desperate efforts to keep wet wood burning after travel has stopped is a primary image in your mind.
CONCEPTS KNOWN: SHKATO (Create) ZJARE (Fire), JAH (Hunting)
[X] You awaken in a forest. Head aching but wounds, seemingly, healed enough to function. Not a soul is around you except the woods and the requisite life within. Insects roam in great numbers, attracting your gaze as the world fades into clarity. Their structured motions stick in your mind as concepts play out inside it, relating things to one another.
CONCEPTS KNOWN: PERMRA (Control), KANDRE (Insect), DIAVO (Voice)
Mechanics
- Location
- Albania
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Normal Mechanics
Alright, so, every character has a series of statistics which let them engage with the world. The expertise within that statistic determines what die you throw at the problem. The dice start at a d2 and rise by increments of two until they strike d6 with each skill level. Afterwards, they gain another die which rises at that rate until it arrives at a d6, proceeding onto the next, and then so on and so forth.
To make that more understandable, observe below.
Weakling
Physical-1 (d2)
Soldier
Physical-2 (d4)
Veteran
Physical-3 (d6)
Knight
Physical-4 (d6+d2)
Veteran Knight
Physical-5 (d6+d4)
Anything above 5 is superhuman, but follows a similar rate of advance, adding dice identically.
Now, with that skill, you now must exceed a target number which ranges from 1, a simple task I'm not going to roll for, to 5 for a resisting physically fit opponent you are trying to stab, to 10 for trying to climb a slick, icy mountain side with minimal tools.
What that looks like is this.
Knight Does Something
Target Number-5
D6(4)+D2(1)=Success
This means a successful action with a target number of five. Whatever that action was.
Most actions are a difficulty of 2-3 at most, with the rare one peaking over to 4 or 5.
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MAGIC RULES
Magic is altogether simpler in some ways than doing actual physical things. At the end of the day, all it is is the usage of the language that binds reality to cause something to happen, at least for your method of magic.
The spell begins with an Action, say, Control.
Then, you select an Item, say, Fire
And, if you have one, you can select a quality. Such as Hunting.
By these three words combined, you can control fire to hunt, likely your enemies.
Spells can become vastly more complex than this, with some of the grandest involving more than two-dozen words.
Now, you've designed a spell, but what determines its strength? Well, an easy answer. Force!
Force is determined on a scale of 1-20. See the chart below for what it exactly means.
Force is determined in a few different ways. The primary thing that determines it initially is the number of words. A spell of two words has a Force rating of 1, a spell of four words has a Force rating of 2, and so on and so forth.
The second method of Force gain is from the internal reserve of your character, this is a limited method, as you only have so much and it recovers exceptionally slowly.
Thirdly, you have exterior artefacts. Wands, staves, crowns and robes all contribute to Force if appropriately used in the spell cast. How much they contribute is heavily based on the quality of the item and is frequently unpredictable. You can rely on an oaken stave to provide one additional Force, but a Wychwood staff could add as much as 5.
Alright, so, every character has a series of statistics which let them engage with the world. The expertise within that statistic determines what die you throw at the problem. The dice start at a d2 and rise by increments of two until they strike d6 with each skill level. Afterwards, they gain another die which rises at that rate until it arrives at a d6, proceeding onto the next, and then so on and so forth.
To make that more understandable, observe below.
Weakling
Physical-1 (d2)
Soldier
Physical-2 (d4)
Veteran
Physical-3 (d6)
Knight
Physical-4 (d6+d2)
Veteran Knight
Physical-5 (d6+d4)
Anything above 5 is superhuman, but follows a similar rate of advance, adding dice identically.
Now, with that skill, you now must exceed a target number which ranges from 1, a simple task I'm not going to roll for, to 5 for a resisting physically fit opponent you are trying to stab, to 10 for trying to climb a slick, icy mountain side with minimal tools.
What that looks like is this.
Knight Does Something
Target Number-5
D6(4)+D2(1)=Success
This means a successful action with a target number of five. Whatever that action was.
Most actions are a difficulty of 2-3 at most, with the rare one peaking over to 4 or 5.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
MAGIC RULES
Magic is altogether simpler in some ways than doing actual physical things. At the end of the day, all it is is the usage of the language that binds reality to cause something to happen, at least for your method of magic.
The spell begins with an Action, say, Control.
Then, you select an Item, say, Fire
And, if you have one, you can select a quality. Such as Hunting.
By these three words combined, you can control fire to hunt, likely your enemies.
Spells can become vastly more complex than this, with some of the grandest involving more than two-dozen words.
Now, you've designed a spell, but what determines its strength? Well, an easy answer. Force!
Force is determined on a scale of 1-20. See the chart below for what it exactly means.
| Force | Examples |
| 1 | Enhancing your perceptions, lighting a candle, changing hair color, shielding your mind. |
| 2 | Healing yourself, conjuring a small fire, altering your shape, influencing someone's mood with mental magick. |
| 3 | Healing critical damage, conjuring a fireball, transforming yourself into a radically different shape, reading or affecting someone else's mind. |
| 4 | Growing or regenerating limbs, conjuring a firestorm, transforming someone else into a different shape, controlling someone |
| 5-10 | Creating simple life-forms, blowing down castle walls, conjuring Near-World entities, commanding a mob |
| 10-15 | Creating complex life-forms, Blowing down castles, summoning Otherworld creatures, Dominating a mobs will. |
| 20 and Beyond | Incinerating cities, conjuring monstrous hordes, enslaving thousands of people |
Force is determined in a few different ways. The primary thing that determines it initially is the number of words. A spell of two words has a Force rating of 1, a spell of four words has a Force rating of 2, and so on and so forth.
The second method of Force gain is from the internal reserve of your character, this is a limited method, as you only have so much and it recovers exceptionally slowly.
Thirdly, you have exterior artefacts. Wands, staves, crowns and robes all contribute to Force if appropriately used in the spell cast. How much they contribute is heavily based on the quality of the item and is frequently unpredictable. You can rely on an oaken stave to provide one additional Force, but a Wychwood staff could add as much as 5.
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Character Sheet
- Location
- Albania
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Name: Wizard, probably
Skills:
PHYSICAL-3(d6)
MENTAL-6(2d6)
SOCIAL-2 (d4)
Worn Equipment:
Dreams
Other Equipment:
Hopes
Internal Force
8+(2xMENTAL)=20
11/20
Skills:
PHYSICAL-3(d6)
MENTAL-6(2d6)
SOCIAL-2 (d4)
Worn Equipment:
Dreams
Other Equipment:
Hopes
Internal Force
8+(2xMENTAL)=20
11/20
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- Location
- USA
[X] You awaken in a forest. Head aching but wounds, seemingly, healed enough to function. Not a soul is around you except the woods and the requisite life within. Insects roam in great numbers, attracting your gaze as the world fades into clarity. Their structured motions stick in your mind as concepts play out inside it, relating things to one another.
[X] The world is an endless series of cold snaps and warmth periods as all you can see are large, fur-cloaked and armoured warriors, but these ones aren't killing you. Flame fills your vision when you aren't bundled like a babe, and the desperate efforts to keep wet wood burning after travel has stopped is a primary image in your mind.
Northmen but consider
What if we were in the frigid South instead of the North? How subversive would that be
Insect + Control? Is that a mfing Worm reference?
Northmen but consider
What if we were in the frigid South instead of the North? How subversive would that be
Insect + Control? Is that a mfing Worm reference?
CedeTheBees
Probably high right now
- Location
- Somewhere
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] You wake up in a hot place, the air practically boiling, or is that the fever? The ache in your head has abated compared to hazy memories of what seems to be moments ago. Dusty sand fills the room and digs into your wounds like knives, keeping the concepts fresh in your mind. Dim visions of dyed curtains and adobe walls, as well as dark-skinned tenders washing your wounds, provide all you can understand of your surroundings.
- Location
- UK
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] The world is an endless series of cold snaps and warmth periods as all you can see are large, fur-cloaked and armoured warriors, but these ones aren't killing you. Flame fills your vision when you aren't bundled like a babe, and the desperate efforts to keep wet wood burning after travel has stopped is a primary image in your mind.
WhoTheHeckity
But no one ever asks HowTheHeckity
- Location
- Murica 🦅
[X] You wake up in a hot place, the air practically boiling, or is that the fever? The ache in your head has abated compared to hazy memories of what seems to be moments ago. Dusty sand fills the room and digs into your wounds like knives, keeping the concepts fresh in your mind. Dim visions of dyed curtains and adobe walls, as well as dark-skinned tenders washing your wounds, provide all you can understand of your surroundings.
NotInventedHere
MSV, Desert Class
- Location
- UK
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] The world is an endless series of cold snaps and warmth periods as all you can see are large, fur-cloaked and armoured warriors, but these ones aren't killing you. Flame fills your vision when you aren't bundled like a babe, and the desperate efforts to keep wet wood burning after travel has stopped is a primary image in your mind.
Our MC is pretty heavily injured. Showing up somewhere with other people who can look after us and tend our wounds while we drift in and out of consciousness seems like a better plan than lying in the woods alone and depending on mind-controlled insect familiars to do the wound-tending.
EDIT: Decided to go specifically for just the Viking option rather than approval-voting that and the desert option. "Create" and "Fire" seem like more versatile Words than "Project" and "Sand", and we're more directly useful to the guys who're desperately trying to keep a fire lit than we are to the desert people (since we don't have any water or food generating abilities yet).
Our MC is pretty heavily injured. Showing up somewhere with other people who can look after us and tend our wounds while we drift in and out of consciousness seems like a better plan than lying in the woods alone and depending on mind-controlled insect familiars to do the wound-tending.
EDIT: Decided to go specifically for just the Viking option rather than approval-voting that and the desert option. "Create" and "Fire" seem like more versatile Words than "Project" and "Sand", and we're more directly useful to the guys who're desperately trying to keep a fire lit than we are to the desert people (since we don't have any water or food generating abilities yet).
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When you put it like that it sounds like a recipe for getting an insectoid hive implanted in ourselves to make up for damaged organs. Which I am in favor of.
Really though I just think control is a better verb than create to start with. Though ideally we would want both in the long run.
[X] You awaken in a forest. Head aching but wounds, seemingly, healed enough to function. Not a soul is around you except the woods and the requisite life within. Insects roam in great numbers, attracting your gaze as the world fades into clarity. Their structured motions stick in your mind as concepts play out inside it, relating things to one another.
Project is a fun word. My second favourite is starting off with the spell "create hunting fire"
[X] You wake up in a hot place, the air practically boiling, or is that the fever? The ache in your head has abated compared to hazy memories of what seems to be moments ago. Dusty sand fills the room and digs into your wounds like knives, keeping the concepts fresh in your mind. Dim visions of dyed curtains and adobe walls, as well as dark-skinned tenders washing your wounds, provide all you can understand of your surroundings.
[X] You wake up in a hot place, the air practically boiling, or is that the fever? The ache in your head has abated compared to hazy memories of what seems to be moments ago. Dusty sand fills the room and digs into your wounds like knives, keeping the concepts fresh in your mind. Dim visions of dyed curtains and adobe walls, as well as dark-skinned tenders washing your wounds, provide all you can understand of your surroundings.
[X] You awaken in a forest. Head aching but wounds, seemingly, healed enough to function. Not a soul is around you except the woods and the requisite life within. Insects roam in great numbers, attracting your gaze as the world fades into clarity. Their structured motions stick in your mind as concepts play out inside it, relating things to one another.
[X] You awaken in a forest. Head aching but wounds, seemingly, healed enough to function. Not a soul is around you except the woods and the requisite life within. Insects roam in great numbers, attracting your gaze as the world fades into clarity. Their structured motions stick in your mind as concepts play out inside it, relating things to one another.
- Location
- Albania
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Vote's close, real close.
So I'll leave it open till there's a little more solidity to it.
...If the sand one got the hunting word that'd kind of be very nasty.
"Project sharp hunting sand"
"Project sharp hunting sand"
[X] You wake up in a hot place, the air practically boiling, or is that the fever? The ache in your head has abated compared to hazy memories of what seems to be moments ago. Dusty sand fills the room and digs into your wounds like knives, keeping the concepts fresh in your mind. Dim visions of dyed curtains and adobe walls, as well as dark-skinned tenders washing your wounds, provide all you can understand of your surroundings.
VoidZero
Passing Flan 布丁魔王
- Location
- Anywhere but RL
[X] You awaken in a forest. Head aching but wounds, seemingly, healed enough to function. Not a soul is around you except the woods and the requisite life within. Insects roam in great numbers, attracting your gaze as the world fades into clarity. Their structured motions stick in your mind as concepts play out inside it, relating things to one another.
love forest, there's never enough forest
love forest, there's never enough forest
[X] You awaken in a forest. Head aching but wounds, seemingly, healed enough to function. Not a soul is around you except the woods and the requisite life within. Insects roam in great numbers, attracting your gaze as the world fades into clarity. Their structured motions stick in your mind as concepts play out inside it, relating things to one another.
[X] You awaken in a forest. Head aching but wounds, seemingly, healed enough to function. Not a soul is around you except the woods and the requisite life within. Insects roam in great numbers, attracting your gaze as the world fades into clarity. Their structured motions stick in your mind as concepts play out inside it, relating things to one another.
So, lets look at what we could do at start, with each option:
using all three, its a deadly sandstorm.
Just project and sand would let us make a sandblaster. depending on how much force we put in, this can be... painful.
With just sand and sharp, we have unlimited nasty surprises. infinite sand to throw around and we can sharpen anything. Yes, even that net to honor the predator movies.
Then, there is project and sharp... which is... idk, windblades? or swordwaves?
As for the words on their own, all are useful. Sand for, well, sand and shar will help us wether it for hunting with traps or tricking idiots until the mana runs out of sharp on an object.
Create and Fire would be good as we are in an icy region, so we could keep ourselves and our people warm, or barricade monsters with a fire cage.
Fire and Hunting..... no idea, honestly. maybe making already burning fires reach for someone?
Create and hunting... no idea what this would do... maybe a homing effect?
For the words on their own.... i can only think of fire as being useful, by giving us an infinite lighter. that's it.
Still, sonic attacks from 360° is pretty nice, as far as tricks go.
Control and Insects is Taylor cosplay, but we do know how well that can be leveraged.
Control and voice is ventriloquism on steroids, which can be really handy, if we need to be stealthy.
Insect and Voice is... interesting, but... not seems that useful, but then, again, we can use it as a distraction with insect noises, i guess?
separatelly... Cant use control without anything joining it, i guess, but that problem is shared with project and create...
Yeah, i think Voice is the only usable one on its own here.
For the desert, we have project, sand and sharp.
using all three, its a deadly sandstorm.
Just project and sand would let us make a sandblaster. depending on how much force we put in, this can be... painful.
With just sand and sharp, we have unlimited nasty surprises. infinite sand to throw around and we can sharpen anything. Yes, even that net to honor the predator movies.
Then, there is project and sharp... which is... idk, windblades? or swordwaves?
As for the words on their own, all are useful. Sand for, well, sand and shar will help us wether it for hunting with traps or tricking idiots until the mana runs out of sharp on an object.
Create, Fire and Hunting, for homing fireballs/elementals, i guess.
Create and Fire would be good as we are in an icy region, so we could keep ourselves and our people warm, or barricade monsters with a fire cage.
Fire and Hunting..... no idea, honestly. maybe making already burning fires reach for someone?
Create and hunting... no idea what this would do... maybe a homing effect?
For the words on their own.... i can only think of fire as being useful, by giving us an infinite lighter. that's it.
Control, Insect and Voice. We are a (scary) Disney princes now
Still, sonic attacks from 360° is pretty nice, as far as tricks go.
Control and Insects is Taylor cosplay, but we do know how well that can be leveraged.
Control and voice is ventriloquism on steroids, which can be really handy, if we need to be stealthy.
Insect and Voice is... interesting, but... not seems that useful, but then, again, we can use it as a distraction with insect noises, i guess?
separatelly... Cant use control without anything joining it, i guess, but that problem is shared with project and create...
Yeah, i think Voice is the only usable one on its own here.
- Location
- iTALY
[X] You wake up in a hot place, the air practically boiling, or is that the fever? The ache in your head has abated compared to hazy memories of what seems to be moments ago. Dusty sand fills the room and digs into your wounds like knives, keeping the concepts fresh in your mind. Dim visions of dyed curtains and adobe walls, as well as dark-skinned tenders washing your wounds, provide all you can understand of your surroundings.
- Location
- Germany
Both Control and Create are great words, so voting for those two options.
[X] The world is an endless series of cold snaps and warmth periods as all you can see are large, fur-cloaked and armoured warriors, but these ones aren't killing you. Flame fills your vision when you aren't bundled like a babe, and the desperate efforts to keep wet wood burning after travel has stopped is a primary image in your mind.
[X] You awaken in a forest. Head aching but wounds, seemingly, healed enough to function. Not a soul is around you except the woods and the requisite life within. Insects roam in great numbers, attracting your gaze as the world fades into clarity. Their structured motions stick in your mind as concepts play out inside it, relating things to one another.
[X] The world is an endless series of cold snaps and warmth periods as all you can see are large, fur-cloaked and armoured warriors, but these ones aren't killing you. Flame fills your vision when you aren't bundled like a babe, and the desperate efforts to keep wet wood burning after travel has stopped is a primary image in your mind.
[X] You awaken in a forest. Head aching but wounds, seemingly, healed enough to function. Not a soul is around you except the woods and the requisite life within. Insects roam in great numbers, attracting your gaze as the world fades into clarity. Their structured motions stick in your mind as concepts play out inside it, relating things to one another.
[X] The world is an endless series of cold snaps and warmth periods as all you can see are large, fur-cloaked and armoured warriors, but these ones aren't killing you. Flame fills your vision when you aren't bundled like a babe, and the desperate efforts to keep wet wood burning after travel has stopped is a primary image in your mind.
Projection vs Creation is an interesting topic, however ultimately homing and fire are just generically more useful than sand and sharpness. I don't really think that the forest bundle is great in comparison to these two.
Another thing is that upgrading our fire attack to level 2 is braindead simple, as even something as uninspired and common as [Arrow] would turn into [Create Homing Fire Arrow] at Force 2 which is decent. Better finds such as speed or sight would work amazingly well too. Hunting is just super good I guess.
Projection vs Creation is an interesting topic, however ultimately homing and fire are just generically more useful than sand and sharpness. I don't really think that the forest bundle is great in comparison to these two.
Another thing is that upgrading our fire attack to level 2 is braindead simple, as even something as uninspired and common as [Arrow] would turn into [Create Homing Fire Arrow] at Force 2 which is decent. Better finds such as speed or sight would work amazingly well too. Hunting is just super good I guess.
[X] You wake up in a hot place, the air practically boiling, or is that the fever? The ache in your head has abated compared to hazy memories of what seems to be moments ago. Dusty sand fills the room and digs into your wounds like knives, keeping the concepts fresh in your mind. Dim visions of dyed curtains and adobe walls, as well as dark-skinned tenders washing your wounds, provide all you can understand of your surroundings.