chocolote12
A Penguin Flailing Against The Keyboard Of Life.
Got it.
Dark Prince of Camelot
- Thread starter Gally
- Start date
- Original
JoshieWoshie
Mister Doge
Athletica roll
Edit: God damn it.
Edit: God damn it.
- Location
- Canada
Well the rolls aren't that bad.....things could still go swimmingly
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Yiss, yiss. I've missed it so damn much!
The Cha roll is pretty abysmal. Guess we're no Band of Brothers after all. I wonder why we got a +1 to the pool, though. Is it from Harem Protagonist? Far as I know we are not acting against Tylwyth, nor using a guitar anywhere in the plan...
The Cha roll is pretty abysmal. Guess we're no Band of Brothers after all. I wonder why we got a +1 to the pool, though. Is it from Harem Protagonist? Far as I know we are not acting against Tylwyth, nor using a guitar anywhere in the plan...
Last edited:
The Movie VIII
Gally
Got the whole word talking King Kiba
You are going to regret this decision, if you live long enough to look back on it.
You have assembled your forces, such as they are, not far from the Ivory Palace. Yourself, clad in Caledfwlch, shining obsidian. Conner, a sword in one hand, a shield in the other. Terri, twirling a metal club that vaguely resembles a baseball bat. Rin, huddled within an oversized cloak. Bone, still weak from his imprisonment, running his fingers through arcane exercises. Mr. Clarke, Roosevelt's mysterious headmaster, a bow in his hand, a quiver of arrows slung across his hip.
Talia stands off to the side, the air around her buzzing with power. She will not join you in your assault, but she will accompany your ragtag army on its likely suicide mission.
"I don't like this," Terri says, for what must be the tenth time. "This feels like a trap."
"It's Sa'Lanyah," Talia says, a bemused smile on her face. "It's always a trap."
"Everyone be quiet," you say, desperate for a chance to gather your thoughts before the battle begins.
To your surprise, they listen to you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, feeling your heartbeat beneath your skin, the pulse of Caledfwlch beneath your heartbeat. It has been lifetimes since you have gone to war, and you can't quite ignore the anxiety that creeps into the edges of your mind.
"We are going to charge the Ivory Palace," you say to your assembled troops, your voice betraying none of your inner turmoil. "In the highest tower is the Empresses' personal chamber. If we get there, we have a chance of winning this before she ascends and kills all of us."
"Gee, is that all?" Terri asks.
"The plan isn't complex," you say. "But it's also not easy. The Knights will be assembled against us. I just need them distracted so that I can take them one at a time. If you engage them directly, they'll kill you. Just keep them off me and keep moving."
You get a few shaky nods. Your words have hardly inspired anyone, but you were never the most inspirational leader. It'll have to do."
"So does she know we're coming?" Conner asks. "Is this a surprise attack?"
You shake your head. "A surprise attack is exactly what she wants. I want her to know we're coming."
"Wait, what?" Terri asks. "Are you insane?"
You ignore her and step into the courtyard that sits in front of the Ivory palace, throwing your arms open in obvious challenge. It's entirely empty, cleared for tonight's festivities, and you have a clear view of the massive double doors that lead to the seat of Sa'Lanyah's power. "Sa'Lanyah!" You roar, Caledfwlch amplifying your voice so that it practically shakes the ground beneath you. "Ophidian Queen! Wife of the Death-that-Died! I'm here!"
The wind whistles absently down the narrow alleyways. No guards appear, swords in hand. No Knights, bristling with puppet-Heraldries.
"I'm here to confess!" You shout. "Do you remember all those years you held me in the dungeon, sticking me with knives and burning irons? Do you remember, Sa'Lanyah, Celestial Mother, Lay of Lies? Do you remember the questions you asked me?" You grit your teeth beneath your helmet. "Because I do! You asked me if I felt shame! If I felt guilt! If I felt anything at all when I led your family, your people, your entire world to the slaughter!"
Still no answer. You know she can hear you. You can feel tension in the air, the way the wind rises and falls, as if it were the apprehensive breath of a giant. In and out, in and out. "I'm here to confess that I did!" You shout. "I did feel something, Sa'Lanyah, Double-Crosser, Empress Behind-A-Stolen-Face! I felt something when I gifted your Empire to my mother for slaughter!"
In.
"I felt shame!"
Out.
"And I felt guilt!"
In.
"Because it was so!"
Out.
"Fucking!"
In.
"Easy!"
Silence.
"The truth is," you say, dropping your voice to a whisper, content in the knowledge that Sa'Lanyah is hanging on to your every word. "I barely had to do anything. They pleaded for the right to be butchered. They begged for the honor of genocide. And when I sent them to wall to die, when I saw the realization spread across their faces, I felt…
"Pity."
Lightning.
Thunder.
In a blur of silver Ginny is upon you, eyes shining bright with Lucidian power, stolen body cloaked in stolen lightning. She wields her signature short swords, one in each hand, and her speed is such that you barely manage to catch her blades with your own before she cuts through your throat. The force of the impact knocks your human allies off their feet, and for a brief moment you stand frozen, Ginny suspended in mid-air, blades locked with Caledfwlch, an inhuman snarl distorting her face.
Perfect. She'd been so eager to gut you that she let Ginny leave the others behind. They will be here any moment, but even a few scant seconds is a lifetime to those who wield a Heraldry.
You pivot, sword drawing a circle in mid-air, and Ginny explodes with lightning. The attack bounces off your armor, and though it causes no lasting damage it still feels like a horde of wasps has attacked every inch of your body. Ginny drops low to the ground and swings one sword at your leg, looking to hamstring you. You jerk your leg up and over the cut, then slam your armored foot into her head, bouncing her skull against the flagstone hard enough to crack the solid rock.
Caledfwlch sings through the violence you inflict, and in one smooth motion you sweep your left arm and grab Ginny's collar mid-air, hoisting her up above your head. Again Ginny simmers and explodes with lightning, scorching the air around you, but despite your agony you hold firm. Your sword dissolves into purple-black light and you slam your fist into Ginny's chin, snapping her head back.
She stabs you, short sword cutting deep into your shoulder, but the lightning has left you numb, and the wound tickles more than anything else. You hit her again, and again, and again, your arm working like a piston, and you feel her power shimmer, wane. Her face is bruised and broken, but her fingers find your helmet and discharge more lightning.
You roar, embracing the pain, the rage, the battle-lust that leaps within you and bleeds your vision red. You step back, turn, and bring Ginny up and over your head in an arc, slamming her mottled face into the flagstones.
Her power bursts into a silvery mist, and Ginny lays still. She's not dead – it will take more than that to kill to a Knight – but her body is too broken to hold Sa'Lanyah's power. One down, three to go.
Something barrels into your back and sends you flying, skipping across the ground like a stone across water. After the fourth bounce you manage to get your hands and feet under you and dig your fingers into the stone, grinding yourself to a halt. In front of the Ivory Palace stands Piper, a bow of silver as tall as she is gripped in one hand. She draws the string back and silver mist coalesces into another arrow the size of a harpoon.
Through the haze of battle, you are dimly aware of your comrades fighting off a contingent of mortal guards. You think you might even see the flash of a puppet-Heraldry out of the corner of your eye, but you can't afford to divide your attention. You will have to rely on the men and women you've assembled to hold their line until you've finished your part of the battle.
Piper releases, and by the time you realize she's fired the arrow is nearly upon you. You throw yourself desperately to the left, the arrowhead skimming your faceplate, then spin. Caledfwlch's sword springs to your hand, obsidian light flowing like water, cutting the next arrow cleanly in half mid-flight. You pinwheel your sword arm, maintaining the momentum you've built up, and sling your sword underhand.
It spins through the air towards Piper like a demented one-way boomerang, and though the Knight dodges it without much trouble, she's forced to abandon the offensive to do so. You explode across the courtyard, closing the distance in an instant, and with a flash your blade returns to your hand. You slice through Piper's bow and her wrist in a single motion – the blow explodes into silver mist, the wrist in a shower of blood.
Piper screams, but you blunt the edge of your sword with an effort of will and bring it down violently on the side of her head. She crumples, and though Sa'Lanyah's power fades, it is replaced with the pure, unbound power of her Heraldry, working overtime to regrow her severed hand.
Two down. Two more. You would like nothing more than a moment to catch your breath, but across the battlefield you see an emerald titan charging Terri and Bone. Bone weaves some kind of spell and ribbons burst from his fingertips, entangling the limbs of the axe-wielding woman.
It doesn't slow Bailey down for a moment. She raises her massive axe above her head and brings it down on the old man, silver steel gleaming in the fading sunlight.
You are there. An armored hand catches the edge of the axe mere inches from Bone's face, just barely saving him from bisection. The axe bites through Caledfwlch and deep into your hand, but you are beyond pain now. Your sword whistles through the air, severing Bailey's arm just above the elbow.
You cut again. The other arm, this time at the shoulder. Again. Her right leg falls uselessly to the ground, and Bailey topples with a shriek. You grasp your sword with both hands and drive it into her chest, shattering the emerald breastplate and missing the heart by inches.
Excessive? Maybe a touch. But Bercila's healing had always been the most powerful of the Knights, and her Heraldry allowed her to turn the damage she suffered back on its inflictor, three-fold. A prolonged battle against her would be suicide – your only hope lay in a quick and decisive victory. Silver mist burst from her mouth amongst a spray of blood, but by the time you turn away her limbs are halfway whole again.
Three down. One –
Chains burst from the ground beneath your feet, familiar despite the silver sheen. You whip your blade back and forth in frenzied panic, cutting the chains as quickly as they appear, but Gala had always been just a little bit better than you.
A chain emerges from the ground behind you and snakes around your arm, tightening and pulling you to the earth. You smash your free hand against it and it shatters to mist, but now more are upon you, everywhere, threatening to suffocate you in a sea of shining metal.
You inhale sharply and reach your will deep into Caledfwlch, shaping the armor that protects your body. From your arms and legs grow triangular blades, razor sharp, and by jerking back and forth you are able to sever most of the chains that bind you to the earth. You kick yourself to your feet and dodge instinctively, just before a silver longsword sends you sprawling.
Gemma stands above you, shining, majestic, leaking silver light from her eyes, from her mouth, from the pores of her skin. She advances on you with a deadly grace, and it's all you can do to stumble backwards, to deflect her blows, to keep yourself alive for another brief moment. Your blades meet again and again, the sharp ring of steel on steel coming so quickly that it's a constant whine.
Suddenly, you step forward. The action, unexpected, throws Gemma momentarily off balance, and you kick her ankle out from under her, sending her stumbling. Your blade flashes out, Caledfwlch singing for blood, just like it had-
You can still feel –
A shadow, behind her. Shielded by her splendor.
– her blood on your –
"I can just…I can do this. I know it. Haven't you ever felt that before?"
– sword if you concentrate –
"Then we'll fight."
– It tingles with residual power, like –
"Please, Mordred."
– electricity shot directly into your spine.
"I can't lose you too."
Gala – Gemma – the puppet with the face so familiar, the only difference a smattering of freckles, the curve of the jaw – spins and knocks your sword away, silver light swelling with satisfaction. You try to swallow and find your cannot. Silver fills your vision.
Then white. A beast stands before you, a white wolf on two legs which towers above you, two-thousand pounds of raw, animal fury. It roars, the force of the sound knocking Gemma back, and swipes its claws at the girl.
Next to the beast, Gala looks like a doll. But she catches the arm by the wrist, razor claws inches from her face, and plants her free hand on the beast's side. Then, with a grunt, she rips the wolf's arm clean off. White fur mixes with blue-grey blood.
The beast bellows, frenzied, afraid. It has seen this power before, but the brutality behind it is new. Gemma raises her sword, her back to you. It will only take one cut.
The armor that covers your fingers flows to claws. You reach around the neck of the girl who shines silver and dig your fingertips into her throat.
Then you rip.
Red, red, red, it explodes from your fingertips. Gala gasps, the air whistling through her savaged windpipe, and collapses to her knees, fingers scrabbling, useless. Silver swirls around her, fighting to keep hold.
Caledfwlch fades. Gala falls onto her back, tiny, whistling gasps mixing with the ongoing din of battle. You press your exposed hands to the shredded flesh that was once her throat and hold, trembling. Gala's eyes find yours, still gleaming with wisps of silver, but despite Sa'Lanyah's power she sees you.
And then she dies.
You...
You…
You press your hands, still soaked in blood, to your face. It's slick and warm and tingles with residual power.
"Hello, Medraut," Sa'Lanyah says.
You turn and look at the Ophidian Queen in all her glory. She wears a gown of silver, thousands of tiny scales shimmering from a light you cannot see. The battle around you is silent, frozen, a single moment seized upon and stretched to eternity.
Sa'Lanyah wears no mask, no veil. You can feel her power behind the human face she wears, blue eyes over freckles. Wild, curly red hair is pulled into an elegant bun. It is a face you know and yet cannot place, a face that forces Caledfwlch deep into the recesses of your soul, where it cannot be hurt.
"I feel…pity for you," she says, after a long, silent moment.
You turn back to Gala's body. It stares up at you, and if you find the right angle, the light of the setting sun makes her eyes look almost alive again.
"You are not like the others," Sa'Lanyah says.
You spin to face her, eyes narrowed.
"I can see it around you," Sa'Lanyah says, silver lightning flashing through her irises. "Yatalel. The crux of change. Lifeblood of divinity." She leans down and touches your cheek, fingers as light as a breeze. When she pulls her hand away it is smeared with blood. "It has been so long," she murmurs, "since I have wielded that."
"I-"
"You are wondering why I have come to you now," Sa'Lanyah says, clasping her hands behind her back. "I think…you will be very excited to hear my proposal."
"You…want to make a deal?" You ask, not quite believing the words coming out of your mouth. "You're coming to me…now? To make a deal?" Heat rises in your voice, the rage, the battle-lust, forgotten but not shed. Caledfwlch, despite its hesitancy, sparks to life in your voice.
But before you can cloak yourself in obsidian, Sa'Lanyah drops to her knees. "I come to you to beg, Medraut Son-of-Sunlight," she says. "And to offer a humble gift to you."
Your Heraldry fades.
"I cannot win this war," Sa'Lanyah admits. "You have…weakened me. And the silken chains I have so lovingly crafted are now…too close to the sun." She smiles sadly. "If it were you alone, perhaps. If it were her alone, perhaps. But it has never been either of you alone, has it Medraut?"
Your voice is a trembling whisper. "If you think I'm going to do anything-"
"I will give you her," Sa'Lanyah says, nodding towards Gala's corpse.
You don't say a word.
"These Knights," Sa'Lanyah says, holding a hand out in front of her, "are so curious compared to the rest of your species." A hollow ball maybe the size of a golf ball, woven of tiny strands of starlight silver, appears just above her thumb. She rolls it back and forth along the back of her hand and fingers, eyes following it like a cat's eyes might follow a mouse. "Their souls…do not fade…but linger, and seek new opportunity." She locks eyes with you. "My husband was quite fond of souls, you see. He had many little tricks for catching them as they fled."
You cannot move. You cannot breathe.
"I want to leave," Sa'Lanyah says. "I want to free you and all these…humans…from this dreamworld, take my host, and chrysalis elsewhere. In peace. I want to put this particular chapter of my life well behind me."
"And in return," you say, slowly still not believing it, "you'll bring her back."
"She will be returned whole," Sa'Lanyah says. "Flesh is such a supple thing, easy to mend. To return her soul would be…slightly more difficult, but well within my power. And it will not harm her unduly. Your mother's soul left her once, and she never even realized it had happened. You will leave, I will leave…there are endless worlds, beyond the Jaxib. We may well never see each other again."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"The girl for my freedom," Sa'Lanyah says immediately, no hint of hesitation in her voice. "The girl for my freedom. The girl for my freedom. Thrice it said and so it shall be, for I do not lie, I do not lie, I do not lie."
You take a deep, shuddering breath. There is no lie that can be spoken thrice, not when you have power like Sa'Lanyah's. To say something once, or twice, those are mere words. But three times and they become something much more substantial. Her power thrums with truth.
"What say you, little Prince?" Sa'Lanyah asks. "What say you, lie-spinner, boy-soldier, kin-killer?
"What say you?
"What say you?"
[] Yes
[] No
[] Write In?
- Questions Asked & Answered -
You have assembled your forces, such as they are, not far from the Ivory Palace. Yourself, clad in Caledfwlch, shining obsidian. Conner, a sword in one hand, a shield in the other. Terri, twirling a metal club that vaguely resembles a baseball bat. Rin, huddled within an oversized cloak. Bone, still weak from his imprisonment, running his fingers through arcane exercises. Mr. Clarke, Roosevelt's mysterious headmaster, a bow in his hand, a quiver of arrows slung across his hip.
Talia stands off to the side, the air around her buzzing with power. She will not join you in your assault, but she will accompany your ragtag army on its likely suicide mission.
"I don't like this," Terri says, for what must be the tenth time. "This feels like a trap."
"It's Sa'Lanyah," Talia says, a bemused smile on her face. "It's always a trap."
"Everyone be quiet," you say, desperate for a chance to gather your thoughts before the battle begins.
To your surprise, they listen to you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, feeling your heartbeat beneath your skin, the pulse of Caledfwlch beneath your heartbeat. It has been lifetimes since you have gone to war, and you can't quite ignore the anxiety that creeps into the edges of your mind.
"We are going to charge the Ivory Palace," you say to your assembled troops, your voice betraying none of your inner turmoil. "In the highest tower is the Empresses' personal chamber. If we get there, we have a chance of winning this before she ascends and kills all of us."
"Gee, is that all?" Terri asks.
"The plan isn't complex," you say. "But it's also not easy. The Knights will be assembled against us. I just need them distracted so that I can take them one at a time. If you engage them directly, they'll kill you. Just keep them off me and keep moving."
You get a few shaky nods. Your words have hardly inspired anyone, but you were never the most inspirational leader. It'll have to do."
"So does she know we're coming?" Conner asks. "Is this a surprise attack?"
You shake your head. "A surprise attack is exactly what she wants. I want her to know we're coming."
"Wait, what?" Terri asks. "Are you insane?"
You ignore her and step into the courtyard that sits in front of the Ivory palace, throwing your arms open in obvious challenge. It's entirely empty, cleared for tonight's festivities, and you have a clear view of the massive double doors that lead to the seat of Sa'Lanyah's power. "Sa'Lanyah!" You roar, Caledfwlch amplifying your voice so that it practically shakes the ground beneath you. "Ophidian Queen! Wife of the Death-that-Died! I'm here!"
The wind whistles absently down the narrow alleyways. No guards appear, swords in hand. No Knights, bristling with puppet-Heraldries.
"I'm here to confess!" You shout. "Do you remember all those years you held me in the dungeon, sticking me with knives and burning irons? Do you remember, Sa'Lanyah, Celestial Mother, Lay of Lies? Do you remember the questions you asked me?" You grit your teeth beneath your helmet. "Because I do! You asked me if I felt shame! If I felt guilt! If I felt anything at all when I led your family, your people, your entire world to the slaughter!"
Still no answer. You know she can hear you. You can feel tension in the air, the way the wind rises and falls, as if it were the apprehensive breath of a giant. In and out, in and out. "I'm here to confess that I did!" You shout. "I did feel something, Sa'Lanyah, Double-Crosser, Empress Behind-A-Stolen-Face! I felt something when I gifted your Empire to my mother for slaughter!"
In.
"I felt shame!"
Out.
"And I felt guilt!"
In.
"Because it was so!"
Out.
"Fucking!"
In.
"Easy!"
Silence.
"The truth is," you say, dropping your voice to a whisper, content in the knowledge that Sa'Lanyah is hanging on to your every word. "I barely had to do anything. They pleaded for the right to be butchered. They begged for the honor of genocide. And when I sent them to wall to die, when I saw the realization spread across their faces, I felt…
"Pity."
Lightning.
Thunder.
In a blur of silver Ginny is upon you, eyes shining bright with Lucidian power, stolen body cloaked in stolen lightning. She wields her signature short swords, one in each hand, and her speed is such that you barely manage to catch her blades with your own before she cuts through your throat. The force of the impact knocks your human allies off their feet, and for a brief moment you stand frozen, Ginny suspended in mid-air, blades locked with Caledfwlch, an inhuman snarl distorting her face.
Perfect. She'd been so eager to gut you that she let Ginny leave the others behind. They will be here any moment, but even a few scant seconds is a lifetime to those who wield a Heraldry.
You pivot, sword drawing a circle in mid-air, and Ginny explodes with lightning. The attack bounces off your armor, and though it causes no lasting damage it still feels like a horde of wasps has attacked every inch of your body. Ginny drops low to the ground and swings one sword at your leg, looking to hamstring you. You jerk your leg up and over the cut, then slam your armored foot into her head, bouncing her skull against the flagstone hard enough to crack the solid rock.
Caledfwlch sings through the violence you inflict, and in one smooth motion you sweep your left arm and grab Ginny's collar mid-air, hoisting her up above your head. Again Ginny simmers and explodes with lightning, scorching the air around you, but despite your agony you hold firm. Your sword dissolves into purple-black light and you slam your fist into Ginny's chin, snapping her head back.
She stabs you, short sword cutting deep into your shoulder, but the lightning has left you numb, and the wound tickles more than anything else. You hit her again, and again, and again, your arm working like a piston, and you feel her power shimmer, wane. Her face is bruised and broken, but her fingers find your helmet and discharge more lightning.
You roar, embracing the pain, the rage, the battle-lust that leaps within you and bleeds your vision red. You step back, turn, and bring Ginny up and over your head in an arc, slamming her mottled face into the flagstones.
Her power bursts into a silvery mist, and Ginny lays still. She's not dead – it will take more than that to kill to a Knight – but her body is too broken to hold Sa'Lanyah's power. One down, three to go.
Something barrels into your back and sends you flying, skipping across the ground like a stone across water. After the fourth bounce you manage to get your hands and feet under you and dig your fingers into the stone, grinding yourself to a halt. In front of the Ivory Palace stands Piper, a bow of silver as tall as she is gripped in one hand. She draws the string back and silver mist coalesces into another arrow the size of a harpoon.
Through the haze of battle, you are dimly aware of your comrades fighting off a contingent of mortal guards. You think you might even see the flash of a puppet-Heraldry out of the corner of your eye, but you can't afford to divide your attention. You will have to rely on the men and women you've assembled to hold their line until you've finished your part of the battle.
Piper releases, and by the time you realize she's fired the arrow is nearly upon you. You throw yourself desperately to the left, the arrowhead skimming your faceplate, then spin. Caledfwlch's sword springs to your hand, obsidian light flowing like water, cutting the next arrow cleanly in half mid-flight. You pinwheel your sword arm, maintaining the momentum you've built up, and sling your sword underhand.
It spins through the air towards Piper like a demented one-way boomerang, and though the Knight dodges it without much trouble, she's forced to abandon the offensive to do so. You explode across the courtyard, closing the distance in an instant, and with a flash your blade returns to your hand. You slice through Piper's bow and her wrist in a single motion – the blow explodes into silver mist, the wrist in a shower of blood.
Piper screams, but you blunt the edge of your sword with an effort of will and bring it down violently on the side of her head. She crumples, and though Sa'Lanyah's power fades, it is replaced with the pure, unbound power of her Heraldry, working overtime to regrow her severed hand.
Two down. Two more. You would like nothing more than a moment to catch your breath, but across the battlefield you see an emerald titan charging Terri and Bone. Bone weaves some kind of spell and ribbons burst from his fingertips, entangling the limbs of the axe-wielding woman.
It doesn't slow Bailey down for a moment. She raises her massive axe above her head and brings it down on the old man, silver steel gleaming in the fading sunlight.
You are there. An armored hand catches the edge of the axe mere inches from Bone's face, just barely saving him from bisection. The axe bites through Caledfwlch and deep into your hand, but you are beyond pain now. Your sword whistles through the air, severing Bailey's arm just above the elbow.
You cut again. The other arm, this time at the shoulder. Again. Her right leg falls uselessly to the ground, and Bailey topples with a shriek. You grasp your sword with both hands and drive it into her chest, shattering the emerald breastplate and missing the heart by inches.
Excessive? Maybe a touch. But Bercila's healing had always been the most powerful of the Knights, and her Heraldry allowed her to turn the damage she suffered back on its inflictor, three-fold. A prolonged battle against her would be suicide – your only hope lay in a quick and decisive victory. Silver mist burst from her mouth amongst a spray of blood, but by the time you turn away her limbs are halfway whole again.
Three down. One –
Chains burst from the ground beneath your feet, familiar despite the silver sheen. You whip your blade back and forth in frenzied panic, cutting the chains as quickly as they appear, but Gala had always been just a little bit better than you.
A chain emerges from the ground behind you and snakes around your arm, tightening and pulling you to the earth. You smash your free hand against it and it shatters to mist, but now more are upon you, everywhere, threatening to suffocate you in a sea of shining metal.
You inhale sharply and reach your will deep into Caledfwlch, shaping the armor that protects your body. From your arms and legs grow triangular blades, razor sharp, and by jerking back and forth you are able to sever most of the chains that bind you to the earth. You kick yourself to your feet and dodge instinctively, just before a silver longsword sends you sprawling.
Gemma stands above you, shining, majestic, leaking silver light from her eyes, from her mouth, from the pores of her skin. She advances on you with a deadly grace, and it's all you can do to stumble backwards, to deflect her blows, to keep yourself alive for another brief moment. Your blades meet again and again, the sharp ring of steel on steel coming so quickly that it's a constant whine.
Suddenly, you step forward. The action, unexpected, throws Gemma momentarily off balance, and you kick her ankle out from under her, sending her stumbling. Your blade flashes out, Caledfwlch singing for blood, just like it had-
You can still feel –
A shadow, behind her. Shielded by her splendor.
– her blood on your –
"I can just…I can do this. I know it. Haven't you ever felt that before?"
– sword if you concentrate –
"Then we'll fight."
– It tingles with residual power, like –
"Please, Mordred."
– electricity shot directly into your spine.
"I can't lose you too."
Gala – Gemma – the puppet with the face so familiar, the only difference a smattering of freckles, the curve of the jaw – spins and knocks your sword away, silver light swelling with satisfaction. You try to swallow and find your cannot. Silver fills your vision.
Then white. A beast stands before you, a white wolf on two legs which towers above you, two-thousand pounds of raw, animal fury. It roars, the force of the sound knocking Gemma back, and swipes its claws at the girl.
Next to the beast, Gala looks like a doll. But she catches the arm by the wrist, razor claws inches from her face, and plants her free hand on the beast's side. Then, with a grunt, she rips the wolf's arm clean off. White fur mixes with blue-grey blood.
The beast bellows, frenzied, afraid. It has seen this power before, but the brutality behind it is new. Gemma raises her sword, her back to you. It will only take one cut.
The armor that covers your fingers flows to claws. You reach around the neck of the girl who shines silver and dig your fingertips into her throat.
Then you rip.
Red, red, red, it explodes from your fingertips. Gala gasps, the air whistling through her savaged windpipe, and collapses to her knees, fingers scrabbling, useless. Silver swirls around her, fighting to keep hold.
Caledfwlch fades. Gala falls onto her back, tiny, whistling gasps mixing with the ongoing din of battle. You press your exposed hands to the shredded flesh that was once her throat and hold, trembling. Gala's eyes find yours, still gleaming with wisps of silver, but despite Sa'Lanyah's power she sees you.
And then she dies.
You...
You…
You press your hands, still soaked in blood, to your face. It's slick and warm and tingles with residual power.
"Hello, Medraut," Sa'Lanyah says.
You turn and look at the Ophidian Queen in all her glory. She wears a gown of silver, thousands of tiny scales shimmering from a light you cannot see. The battle around you is silent, frozen, a single moment seized upon and stretched to eternity.
Sa'Lanyah wears no mask, no veil. You can feel her power behind the human face she wears, blue eyes over freckles. Wild, curly red hair is pulled into an elegant bun. It is a face you know and yet cannot place, a face that forces Caledfwlch deep into the recesses of your soul, where it cannot be hurt.
"I feel…pity for you," she says, after a long, silent moment.
You turn back to Gala's body. It stares up at you, and if you find the right angle, the light of the setting sun makes her eyes look almost alive again.
"You are not like the others," Sa'Lanyah says.
You spin to face her, eyes narrowed.
"I can see it around you," Sa'Lanyah says, silver lightning flashing through her irises. "Yatalel. The crux of change. Lifeblood of divinity." She leans down and touches your cheek, fingers as light as a breeze. When she pulls her hand away it is smeared with blood. "It has been so long," she murmurs, "since I have wielded that."
"I-"
"You are wondering why I have come to you now," Sa'Lanyah says, clasping her hands behind her back. "I think…you will be very excited to hear my proposal."
"You…want to make a deal?" You ask, not quite believing the words coming out of your mouth. "You're coming to me…now? To make a deal?" Heat rises in your voice, the rage, the battle-lust, forgotten but not shed. Caledfwlch, despite its hesitancy, sparks to life in your voice.
But before you can cloak yourself in obsidian, Sa'Lanyah drops to her knees. "I come to you to beg, Medraut Son-of-Sunlight," she says. "And to offer a humble gift to you."
Your Heraldry fades.
"I cannot win this war," Sa'Lanyah admits. "You have…weakened me. And the silken chains I have so lovingly crafted are now…too close to the sun." She smiles sadly. "If it were you alone, perhaps. If it were her alone, perhaps. But it has never been either of you alone, has it Medraut?"
Your voice is a trembling whisper. "If you think I'm going to do anything-"
"I will give you her," Sa'Lanyah says, nodding towards Gala's corpse.
You don't say a word.
"These Knights," Sa'Lanyah says, holding a hand out in front of her, "are so curious compared to the rest of your species." A hollow ball maybe the size of a golf ball, woven of tiny strands of starlight silver, appears just above her thumb. She rolls it back and forth along the back of her hand and fingers, eyes following it like a cat's eyes might follow a mouse. "Their souls…do not fade…but linger, and seek new opportunity." She locks eyes with you. "My husband was quite fond of souls, you see. He had many little tricks for catching them as they fled."
You cannot move. You cannot breathe.
"I want to leave," Sa'Lanyah says. "I want to free you and all these…humans…from this dreamworld, take my host, and chrysalis elsewhere. In peace. I want to put this particular chapter of my life well behind me."
"And in return," you say, slowly still not believing it, "you'll bring her back."
"She will be returned whole," Sa'Lanyah says. "Flesh is such a supple thing, easy to mend. To return her soul would be…slightly more difficult, but well within my power. And it will not harm her unduly. Your mother's soul left her once, and she never even realized it had happened. You will leave, I will leave…there are endless worlds, beyond the Jaxib. We may well never see each other again."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"The girl for my freedom," Sa'Lanyah says immediately, no hint of hesitation in her voice. "The girl for my freedom. The girl for my freedom. Thrice it said and so it shall be, for I do not lie, I do not lie, I do not lie."
You take a deep, shuddering breath. There is no lie that can be spoken thrice, not when you have power like Sa'Lanyah's. To say something once, or twice, those are mere words. But three times and they become something much more substantial. Her power thrums with truth.
"What say you, little Prince?" Sa'Lanyah asks. "What say you, lie-spinner, boy-soldier, kin-killer?
"What say you?
"What say you?"
[] Yes
[] No
[] Write In?
- Questions Asked & Answered -
Sa'Lanyah gives you an amused smile. "My host is," she says, then makes a noise sort of between a staticky television and a backfiring car. She makes that noise again, and again. "And as for my Chrysalis, I will retreat to some far off world, take time to gather the necessary divine energy, and bond myself to my host. I will become whole again, like I was before I shed my mortal skin to escape the blade of your mother - I do not lie, I do not lie, I do not lie."
"The initiate spy?" Sa'Lanyah rolls her eyes. "She is under careful guard, but alive and unharmed. She will be returned to your world alongside the other humans I...borrowed." She smirks. "Dear little Matthew and Gavin I am a tad more loathe to part with, but they will also be returned unharmed." She repeats herself twice, binding her words to truth.
"You cannot have it," she snaps, anger flickering across her face. "This host, she is...perfect. And I paid your horrid Aunt quite dearly for her. She will come with me. This is non-negotiable." She doesn't repeat herself, but she doesn't really have to.
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- Location
- USA
...
Wait. If you die in the dream you die in real life? I personally don't buy it.
But with the write-in we don't have to follow a binary yes/no now do we?
Wait. If you die in the dream you die in real life? I personally don't buy it.
But with the write-in we don't have to follow a binary yes/no now do we?
SirLagginton
Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun
- Location
- Arrrghhh
[X] Yes
It's amazing how much I want to kill that bitch right now.
But answering otherwise would be an incredibly hollow victory to say the least, so I'm forced to restrain my vote. There will be a reckoning if she's ever unwise enough to return. Mordred's headspace is not going to be a very good place once the movie is over.
It's amazing how much I want to kill that bitch right now.
But answering otherwise would be an incredibly hollow victory to say the least, so I'm forced to restrain my vote. There will be a reckoning if she's ever unwise enough to return. Mordred's headspace is not going to be a very good place once the movie is over.
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Shit. This is a thing. A thing that has happened. Fuck.
She wants out.
She wants to leave, to get out of this madhouse and just get on with her life. She'll give Gemma back if we let her go, and I don't think Mord's okay enough to fight her and get the soul back.
The write-in is there, yes, but I'm not too keen on trying for more rolls, not now.
Tempted to go with []Yes. Really tempted.
Unless someone has something feasible?
She wants out.
She wants to leave, to get out of this madhouse and just get on with her life. She'll give Gemma back if we let her go, and I don't think Mord's okay enough to fight her and get the soul back.
The write-in is there, yes, but I'm not too keen on trying for more rolls, not now.
Tempted to go with []Yes. Really tempted.
Unless someone has something feasible?
- Location
- United States
[X] Yes.
It's a selfish kind of selflessness to let this monster go to save one life, but that still doesn't make it the wrong thing to do. Gala's blood is on our hands only if we choose to let her stay dead, and striking down this enemy now accomplishes the same as letting her go, only without bringing back a dead hero and fulfilling an emotional need for revenge.
She can't be lying, so all that's left is our reply. I say save the life of a good person, instead of taking the life of an evil one.
It's a selfish kind of selflessness to let this monster go to save one life, but that still doesn't make it the wrong thing to do. Gala's blood is on our hands only if we choose to let her stay dead, and striking down this enemy now accomplishes the same as letting her go, only without bringing back a dead hero and fulfilling an emotional need for revenge.
She can't be lying, so all that's left is our reply. I say save the life of a good person, instead of taking the life of an evil one.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Doubt it. A word spoken once may as well be a lie. Why would she need a chrysalis elsewhere?
She is going to take her host away with her. That means Lucy. For some reason, I believe this to be a Very Bad Thing. I hoped that she could be brought back to the Knights somehow and something could start changing.
But with the situation being what it is, we can't give away Gemma.
If anything, I want to ask her what she intends to do with the host. Even though I will probably end up taking the deal anyway.
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Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
If she's really the last Knight...wouldn't her leaving her with her host likely be for a Very Long Time and arguably fuck the Knights permanently unless something else about the cycle broke this time?
We should press her for what she's leaving with. Chrysalis is sufficiently vague to me that I smell a rat.
We should press her for what she's leaving with. Chrysalis is sufficiently vague to me that I smell a rat.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
She didn't say she was leaving for good in her No Lies Voice. Lucy will be back, in one way or another, we will be just leaving her with the Forces of Darkness.
All Sa'Lanyah said was 'the girl for my freedom', and likely that's all we'll be getting. We could try to haggle her down from that, since we have an upper hand, but she knows we can't alter the deal too much either.
Could have been her escape plan all along if you remember she puppeteered Gemma to make us choose between killing her or watching her kill Rin.
All Sa'Lanyah said was 'the girl for my freedom', and likely that's all we'll be getting. We could try to haggle her down from that, since we have an upper hand, but she knows we can't alter the deal too much either.
Could have been her escape plan all along if you remember she puppeteered Gemma to make us choose between killing her or watching her kill Rin.
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... Stall. We need to stall her.
Aubrey isn't here. A wild card exists. Make her explain herself, make the deal clearer. Aubrey was up to something elsewhere, and we can only hope it helps us, but we might need more time. IF Aubrey is upto something, at least.
Muer'ci is right. We can't let her do this shit to others, but a straight up []No means Gemma is possibly dead. Especially because Sally has her soul right now.
So... Anyone good at write-ins?
SirLagginton
Shadow Cabal Caerbannog Bun-Bun
- Location
- Arrrghhh
This is a very big If.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Stalling isn't going to do anything. Worse yet, the Knights regenerate under their own power. If we stall, they will rise, and then we go down. Our advantage, if it can be called that, is momentary.
I don't think Aubrey is a wild card - she is a novice hedge mage, a spy planted to bring us intelligence, not a major actor in her own right. What I am worried about is that she is a chrysalis or somehow slips through the cracks of our deal. And while I personally believe she is alright, and her absense may be due to her being a minor enough character that does not warrant mention at the end of an epic showdown between superpowers and a sadistic choice...
I don't give a rat's ass about other worlds. We are not the Multiversal Paladin, and we had our hands full with our own at all times. Be it when we served the Light, or be it when we led the Dark, our thoughts were about our home and Camelot, never about anything else. In fact, we deliberately doomed entire popultions with casual ease for their sake, and we just boasted about it to Sa'Lanyah.
Maybe as we are now we won't be doing it on purpose anymore, but I am not jumping out of my shoes to help some theoretical people we don't know over the ones we do.
I think the most we can do here is clarify the terms. We have a mutual hostage situation, but unlike Mordred, Sa'Lanyah may have her own life to lose.
[x] Not so fast, Sa'Lanyah. Answer me this, and speak only the truth.
-[x] The chrysalis and the host - who and what are those? What do you plan to do with them?
-[x] Where is Aubrey? Matthew and Gavin? I will not leave them behind.
-[x] What will it take to grant the host freedom from you?
I want to keep the number of questions/conditions to three, since it's the magic number and the narration won't tolerate an infodump in the middle of what is supposed to be a climax of the movie. If anyone has other suggestions for those, I am all ears.
The last question... she has no good reason to answer this, but we all know she will be back, so she may as well bite and throw us a bait of her own. At least with her bound by truth we'll know it's possible, and it will make a good plothook for the sequel.
[x] Accept the deal as long as the lives of your friends and charges are guaranteed.
I don't think Aubrey is a wild card - she is a novice hedge mage, a spy planted to bring us intelligence, not a major actor in her own right. What I am worried about is that she is a chrysalis or somehow slips through the cracks of our deal. And while I personally believe she is alright, and her absense may be due to her being a minor enough character that does not warrant mention at the end of an epic showdown between superpowers and a sadistic choice...
...hedge mages do make for good parasite breeding grounds, as we have learned. I will not save the life of one person by dooming another. Lucy alone is bad enough.
I don't give a rat's ass about other worlds. We are not the Multiversal Paladin, and we had our hands full with our own at all times. Be it when we served the Light, or be it when we led the Dark, our thoughts were about our home and Camelot, never about anything else. In fact, we deliberately doomed entire popultions with casual ease for their sake, and we just boasted about it to Sa'Lanyah.
Maybe as we are now we won't be doing it on purpose anymore, but I am not jumping out of my shoes to help some theoretical people we don't know over the ones we do.
I think the most we can do here is clarify the terms. We have a mutual hostage situation, but unlike Mordred, Sa'Lanyah may have her own life to lose.
[x] Not so fast, Sa'Lanyah. Answer me this, and speak only the truth.
-[x] The chrysalis and the host - who and what are those? What do you plan to do with them?
-[x] Where is Aubrey? Matthew and Gavin? I will not leave them behind.
-[x] What will it take to grant the host freedom from you?
I want to keep the number of questions/conditions to three, since it's the magic number and the narration won't tolerate an infodump in the middle of what is supposed to be a climax of the movie. If anyone has other suggestions for those, I am all ears.
The last question... she has no good reason to answer this, but we all know she will be back, so she may as well bite and throw us a bait of her own. At least with her bound by truth we'll know it's possible, and it will make a good plothook for the sequel.
[x] Accept the deal as long as the lives of your friends and charges are guaranteed.
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[x] Not so fast, Sa'Lanyah. Answer me this, and speak only the truth.
-[x] The chrysalis and the host - who and what are those? What do you plan to do with them?
-[x] Where is Aubrey? I will not leave her behind.
-[x] What will it take to grant the host freedom from you?
[x] Accept the deal (unless contradicted by the above)
This works for me.
-[x] The chrysalis and the host - who and what are those? What do you plan to do with them?
-[x] Where is Aubrey? I will not leave her behind.
-[x] What will it take to grant the host freedom from you?
[x] Accept the deal (unless contradicted by the above)
This works for me.
Rungni Khazadson
Just another random Runesmith!
- Location
- New Zealand
[x] Not so fast, Sa'Lanyah. Answer me this, and speak only the truth.
-[x] What is the chrysalis and who is the host? What do you plan to do with them?
-[x] Where is Aubrey? I will not leave her behind.
-[x] What will it take to grant the host freedom from you?
[x] Accept the deal as long as the lives of your friends and charges are guaranteed.
-[x] What is the chrysalis and who is the host? What do you plan to do with them?
-[x] Where is Aubrey? I will not leave her behind.
-[x] What will it take to grant the host freedom from you?
[x] Accept the deal as long as the lives of your friends and charges are guaranteed.
JoshieWoshie
Mister Doge
[X] Nevill