- Location
- Germany
So, it had the action-economy to cast one or more spells per round while also stabbing Waymar hard enough that his emergency-pacts activated within the first exchange of blows?
Hardcore.
Hardcore.
Here's an edited version of the chapter, DP.Dancing with Death
Fifth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
"Dance with me then," Waymar could feel a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth in defiance of death and ruin. I've been here before, some distant voice in the back of his mind whispered, and in that fleeting instant before the battle was joined, he caught a glimpse of a meeting more real than the dream of power yet infinitely distant now. A black-cloaked figure fallen on the snow, blood pooling from its wounds...
The vision passed, but the moment lingered, for though Waymar Royce may have been alone upon the field of battle this day, he was a friend of kings and archmages, the wealth of empires, the lore of the infinite planes borne upon his armor of bronze. A cerulean crystal sang in his left gauntlet and lulled time into slumber. Rushing around his now truly frozen foe, the knight drew a bag of quick-set alchemical sludge forth with one hand and with the other sheathed the cursed sword in Purity's sheath. If he had more time to ponder such things he likely would have worried over the way the enchanted leather smoked and hissed at the touch of the bronze. He summoned forth the power of his belt and wove not lightning, but magic unbound and bright as star-fire into his weapon...
Time stuttered to a start and the enemy moved. Swifter than anything on two legs had a right to be, the Other ducked out of the way of the alchemical bag and turned to face him once more, with one hand conjuring a breath of bone chilling wind to strip blessings from flesh. One enchantment after another crumbled, though to judge from the flash of anger across the pale too-perfect features, not near as much as it had hoped.
As Waymar's sword descended to strike its collar-bone just above the armor, the fey hissed one syllable more in winter's ancient tongue and a cold mist rose all around it to guard it from the blow. Bronze struck and sparked as though against steel. Behind the veil, the Other smiled now, a mirthless empty thing.
The ward wasn't armor tight against the skin, that much Waymar recognized of its magic, so in a twist of sorcery he willed himself behind it, too close for the foe to weave that spell between them again yet even as he readied his own blow, the sword of ice moved with impossible swiftness. The first blow was like a brand of fire in his side, the second pierced his armor at the shoulder, a spike of pain to bring tears to his eyes, the third mercifully clanging harmlessly against his side.
Golden light poured from Waymar's wounds knitting them together, but the knight paid the magic no mind. The damned thing was trying to twist away to work more of its magic, but this time Waymar was ready. Pouring another wave of magic into the ancient sword he feinted an overhand strike for the head then twisted to strike the left arm. Armor of ice shattered and the Mournblade found at last the purpose for which it had been forged long ago. Bloodless flesh withered and blackened under the blow.
No cry of pain passed the Other's lips, only a single dreadful curse, and though Waymar knew not the tongue it was speaking, he understood that word with dreadful certainty, blindness. To have his sight stolen against such a foe would almost surely be death, or at the very least cause for the others to intervene and invoke whatever forfeit the duel held.
Waymar's gaze did not darken, the dream-wrought wards held, and for the merest instant he saw his enemy's eyes widen in something that might have been shock. Then his sword descended once again, not one blow, two blows one after another, the dead hall filling with the echoes of breaking ice and, all its inhuman grace unable to withstand Waymar's vengeful strikes.
Again the ethereal wind rose to strip away his blessings, three more fell, including his ward against the cold, again the enemy hid behind his veil, and again Waymar stepped behind it and paid the price in blood. This time there was no hidden spell to soothe his wounds, but still he fought, his world seeming to narrow to the flash of his enemy's sword the cold mocking blue of its gaze. Anger rose in him, clean and sharp. This thing did not belong in the world, in any world, less even than the worst of fiends this... should... not be.
Blood pooling in his mouth he cast a final spell to strike through the ruin of the foe's armor, seeking his frozen heart. Bronze pierced true and with a scream that almost sounded like...relief, the Other crumbled to the ground dead, shattering into thousand thousand shards.
Waymar Gains the First Mythic Rank
Vision blurry, probably from all the blood pooling around him...that was a lot of blood...Waymar saw Lady Melisandre rushing forward, crimson pendant in hand. "The Lord of Light does not anoint knights, good ser, but know that if he did you would be first offered the honor," the priestess said gravely.
As the light of healing washed over him, Waymar had the strangest sense the priestess was not speaking for herself alone. "My thanks to you and to your God, my lady," he replied in like tone, though it had been Dany's spell that saved him from the worst of the curses the Other had actually cast. The gods alone knew what spells it would have woven had he been less well protected at the battle's start.
"Know that you have the thanks of Riwen, daughter of Dovak, bold warrior," a soft voice called from behind him. Turning he saw the specter no longer under the veil of winter, but was now shimmering white. "Although it is much too late to fulfill my father's final pledge to wed the slayer of Their champion, I would aid you as much as the dead can aid the living."
What do you ask of the spirit?
[] Knowledge of her people
-[] Write in
[] Aid in protecting the evacuation
[] Write in
OOC: So here we are, your first Other fight and the reason why they are so terrifying. Others, true Others not just the Winter-touched but the Lords of the Long Night themselves are all gestalt characters. Such are the blessings of the Void to those who give themselves wholly to it. Not yet edited.
@DragonParadox, could we have the stats for the Mournblade now? And can be put it down, or is it one of those cursed blades?
- It's going to need an actual arch-mage skilled in runes to take a look at it to figure everything out, fortunately you have Lya so it's stats will be in the next update
- It needs someone to cast miracle or wish on the bearer to be set down
How many steps would we need to rez the girl? She obviously has some very important lore, but does she have rune lore as well?
"The Lord of Light does not anoint knights, good ser, but know that if he did you would be first offered the honor," the priestess said gravely.
As the light of healing washed over him, Waymar had the strangest sense the priestess was not speaking for herself alone. "My thanks to you and to your God, my lady,"
Also this is a hell of an addition to the hall of horrors, really want to know what kind of gestalt this Other was
We don't know the stats of Mournblade yet, so this one is subject to change, but the Legendary Weapon power fits this situation so well it makes my teeth hurt. A powerful weapon created by a master of Runecrafting, baring a dangerous curse but still wielded by Waymar against a relentless, inhuman foe, and used to strike it down, resulting in him gaining Mythic Power.
Oh, so the curse is going to persist?While this is very flavorful, it's worth keeping in mind that the Mournblade is cursed and that even its original creator did not envisage it being carried by one of his people after the duel. Investing Waymar that far into the artifact as it is might not be entirely safe. That said Lya might be able to apply some of its runes to Purity given her present skills and available lore
And the curse always takes the form of taking away what the bearer considers his greatest asset/strenght for the fight?Yes, it is an intrinsic part of the enchantment, maybe even what is empowering it Waymar guesses.
@DragonParadox, what about its loot?the Other crumbled to the ground dead, shattering into thousand thousand shards.