Seventy Seven Ways to Kill a Vampire [Exalted vs the World of Darkness]
- Thread starter Tekomandor
- Start date
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X] Fight this undead abomination as some kind of wizard/vampire/Illuminati war unfolds around you, because if you let him go you know he will be more dangerous than anything else in this building.
[X] Spend 12 xp on Fivefold Bulwark Stance
Peace was never an option.
[X] Spend 12 xp on Fivefold Bulwark Stance
Peace was never an option.
[x] Fight this undead abomination as some kind of wizard/vampire/Illuminati war unfolds around you, because if you let him go you know he will be more dangerous than anything else in this building.
[X] Spend 12 xp on Fivefold Bulwark Stance
[X] Spend 12 xp on Fivefold Bulwark Stance
[x] Attempt to escape, because in moments whoever sent those not-men at you is going to be on this floor with reinforcements.
[x] Spend 12 xp on Essence 2 and Excellence of the Setting Sun: (Occult)
[x] Spend 12 xp on Essence 2 and Excellence of the Setting Sun: (Occult)
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
FWIW, Fivefold Bulwark Stance will do far more to help you against this Abyssal than basically any other option (and of course you can write in with alternatives). The other option will help you more with escaping from the Technocratic strike team's more esoteric abilities.
- Location
- Philippines
So there is a Technocratic strike team on the way?
Won't fighting the Abyssal means we run out of fumes and get killed by the incoming strike team?
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I think a fair reading of the update is that they have already arrived. You did, after all, put your fight with the Abyssal on hold to go beat up a bunch of biomechanical supersoldiers.
You're at 10/10 willpower and 10/10 essence right now, after spending one point of willpower and three points of essence and regaining exactly that amount.
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
Uh, here's the thing, if you've got Fivefold Bulwark Stance, numbers aren't really relevant anymore. If any one of them can't gank you, none of them can.
[x] Fight this undead abomination as some kind of wizard/vampire/Illuminati war unfolds around you, because if you let him go you know he will be more dangerous than anything else in this building.
[X] Spend 12 xp on Fivefold Bulwark Stance
[x] Fight this undead abomination as some kind of wizard/vampire/Illuminati war unfolds around you, because if you let him go you know he will be more dangerous than anything else in this building.
[X] Spend 12 xp on Fivefold Bulwark Stance
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
With the tie broken, Votes are Locked.
2.2
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
2.2
You stand opposite the undead thing, his sword of black iron held in a steady stance. Your own blade - smaller, curved, forged from polished silver steel - is in its sheathe, waiting for you to draw it. Your hands find the hilt, and you are standing across from him as a village burns down to embers behind him. Rain soaks the ground, but the fires still burn. Bandits and brigands of every description stand behind him, whilst you stand alone.
You take your stance, just as your teacher taught you all those lifetimes ago, and know that no matter their numbers, these brigands are merely set-dressing for your duel. They seem to rush forward as one, and you step between them with unfailing ease.
The now ruined clubroom returns and your eyes blink as the man across from you regains his current face. He blurs forward, swinging his colossal blade with impossible speed. Your power whispers to you, and you deflect his blow with your own blade. You return the favour, striking out with a downwards cut that is only barely dodged.
He takes a step back and then unleashes a barrage of attacks that would have overwhelmed you... but for the connection with the past, you can feel still within you. You take a stance whispered to you by the world itself, and his blows seem almost clumsy. You deflect them with contemptuous ease - without even conscious effort.
You leap backwards and run your hand up your blade. Golden light follows it until your sword's edge seems to be composed of brilliant morning sunlight. You feel your power roar within you, and then you seem to be surrounded by an aura of golden light.
"Your skills with a blade approach my own, it seems," the man says, the mark on his forehead emitting a dark and unnatural light.
"Perhaps if you abandoned that clumsy hunk of iron," you respond, as the sounds of battle grow louder. You step forward, not content to let him dictate the pace of the battle, and unleash a flurry of blows. He blocks your first strike, his sword hissing as your sunlight-edge blade strikes it, but your second strikes true for his neck.
Until you feel him focus his own power - his own essence. His body turns to black smoke and shadow around your blade, and he reappears unharmed. You swing your sword back against him again and again - each time forcing him back, but unable to land a blow. The mark on your forehead blazes brilliant gold, and you can feel the temperature drop around you. Whatever wrongness is being exuded by the dead man fighting you seems to almost be seeping out of him.
The two of you square off again, each of you taking a stance that echoes some lost greatness. He wields his hunk of black iron like it was a legendary sword of a bygone age, though what power infuses it now is vastly lesser. Your own blade, lacking the great size of such weapons, still has some power. Your teacher gave it a power of a subtler kind - it is a Sword, and it will Cut all things as if they were mortal men.
Its magic is not without limit, but with the edge of morning sunlight you imbued it with, you know that there are very few things on this damned Earth that your sword will not strike down. You take your stance, abandoning the mortal martial arts taught to you by your mentor. You listen to the whispers in your soul, to the song of birds and the whistling of the wind. You listen to the memory of the world that was, and you achieve the barest imitation of something long forgotten.
He strikes first, a half dozen blurred copies of his strike following his blow. You channel your essence through a new pattern, or perhaps an old one you have only just remembered, and you meet each ghostly blade of dark fire with your own afterimage of hardened sunlight. They shatter against your stance, and you unleash your counterblow.
You strike against him once, and he deflects it with his own sword, but your second blow forces him to once more become a dark mist. Your third blow catches him off guard and your sunlight-edged sword cuts a burning gash across his chest. He stumbles backwards, eyes wide, and you step forward to land the killing blow - only to whirl around at the last second.
Your sword serves you just as well against the bolt of plasma fired at your back as it did bullets of blades. You stare at the man in the black trenchcoat, shocked at how young he looks. You see the half dozen men and women walk into the room behind him, and you see their suits of powered armour, carbon nanotube muscles, and seven barreled railguns.
"You people really have to stop interrupting," you say, knowing that it will take more essence to continue fighting. You still have much of your power, but... you know that it is not infinite.
"If you would take care of this one..." the young man says, gesturing towards the bulky figure with the carapace-like armour and the seven-barreled railgun. The barrels begin to spin, and you stand your ground. Your sword grows ever brighter, and you see ghostly doubles of your own form coalesce out of golden light.
"Fivefold Bulwark Stance!" you shout, hoping that will help the Illuminati (or whoever they are) believe you are merely just another mage. You are not sure where the name comes to you from, but there is a feeling of rightness to it - as though you are not merely making it up, but translating it from some lost scroll.
The railgun fires, spitting hypersonic darts in lines of burning air. Your sword flashes and the blades of your ghostly doubles do likewise. Lines of burning gold essence cut each and every dart from the air, the exploding shards bouncing off of fields of shimmering golden light. The newcomers stare almost as one and behind you, you hear the man rise to his feet.
"Our duel shall not conclude today, sister. Run with your will-weavers, and take heed that our next meeting will be decisive. I have interlopers to deal with," the man says, the mark on his forehead burning black. Shadows seem to coil and surround him, and you feel his tainted, broken essence surge.
"Boss, whatever the fuck that it is, it's not a haemovore," a woman whose skin seems just a fraction too perfect, and just below her collar you see the lines where the gaps in her armour-plating are just barely large enough to be visible.
"I'm well aware of that fact. All units, converge on my location. Covering fire, if you would Mr Killian," the young man says, and the huge armoured figure spins up his railgun again.
"Time for you to leave, sister," your dark opposite says, and you feel a moment of conflict. You know that the two of you are destined to meet again only in battle, but there is an odd honour to this man. You have already injured him, your sunlit blade burning his flesh beyond immediate repair. Deep down, you feel that to leave now would be to abandon him, though you know that there can be no peace between you.
[x] Leave now, and let these technological nightmares fight this abyssal counterpart of yours.
[x] Stay, and teach these impudent newcomers why all of Creation once feared the Exalted Hosts.
AN: Long time no update. I'm going to reconfigure the char sheet for the revised edition of the fangame that came out whilst this quest went between updates.
You stand opposite the undead thing, his sword of black iron held in a steady stance. Your own blade - smaller, curved, forged from polished silver steel - is in its sheathe, waiting for you to draw it. Your hands find the hilt, and you are standing across from him as a village burns down to embers behind him. Rain soaks the ground, but the fires still burn. Bandits and brigands of every description stand behind him, whilst you stand alone.
You take your stance, just as your teacher taught you all those lifetimes ago, and know that no matter their numbers, these brigands are merely set-dressing for your duel. They seem to rush forward as one, and you step between them with unfailing ease.
The now ruined clubroom returns and your eyes blink as the man across from you regains his current face. He blurs forward, swinging his colossal blade with impossible speed. Your power whispers to you, and you deflect his blow with your own blade. You return the favour, striking out with a downwards cut that is only barely dodged.
He takes a step back and then unleashes a barrage of attacks that would have overwhelmed you... but for the connection with the past, you can feel still within you. You take a stance whispered to you by the world itself, and his blows seem almost clumsy. You deflect them with contemptuous ease - without even conscious effort.
You leap backwards and run your hand up your blade. Golden light follows it until your sword's edge seems to be composed of brilliant morning sunlight. You feel your power roar within you, and then you seem to be surrounded by an aura of golden light.
"Your skills with a blade approach my own, it seems," the man says, the mark on his forehead emitting a dark and unnatural light.
"Perhaps if you abandoned that clumsy hunk of iron," you respond, as the sounds of battle grow louder. You step forward, not content to let him dictate the pace of the battle, and unleash a flurry of blows. He blocks your first strike, his sword hissing as your sunlight-edge blade strikes it, but your second strikes true for his neck.
Until you feel him focus his own power - his own essence. His body turns to black smoke and shadow around your blade, and he reappears unharmed. You swing your sword back against him again and again - each time forcing him back, but unable to land a blow. The mark on your forehead blazes brilliant gold, and you can feel the temperature drop around you. Whatever wrongness is being exuded by the dead man fighting you seems to almost be seeping out of him.
The two of you square off again, each of you taking a stance that echoes some lost greatness. He wields his hunk of black iron like it was a legendary sword of a bygone age, though what power infuses it now is vastly lesser. Your own blade, lacking the great size of such weapons, still has some power. Your teacher gave it a power of a subtler kind - it is a Sword, and it will Cut all things as if they were mortal men.
Its magic is not without limit, but with the edge of morning sunlight you imbued it with, you know that there are very few things on this damned Earth that your sword will not strike down. You take your stance, abandoning the mortal martial arts taught to you by your mentor. You listen to the whispers in your soul, to the song of birds and the whistling of the wind. You listen to the memory of the world that was, and you achieve the barest imitation of something long forgotten.
He strikes first, a half dozen blurred copies of his strike following his blow. You channel your essence through a new pattern, or perhaps an old one you have only just remembered, and you meet each ghostly blade of dark fire with your own afterimage of hardened sunlight. They shatter against your stance, and you unleash your counterblow.
You strike against him once, and he deflects it with his own sword, but your second blow forces him to once more become a dark mist. Your third blow catches him off guard and your sunlight-edged sword cuts a burning gash across his chest. He stumbles backwards, eyes wide, and you step forward to land the killing blow - only to whirl around at the last second.
Your sword serves you just as well against the bolt of plasma fired at your back as it did bullets of blades. You stare at the man in the black trenchcoat, shocked at how young he looks. You see the half dozen men and women walk into the room behind him, and you see their suits of powered armour, carbon nanotube muscles, and seven barreled railguns.
"You people really have to stop interrupting," you say, knowing that it will take more essence to continue fighting. You still have much of your power, but... you know that it is not infinite.
"If you would take care of this one..." the young man says, gesturing towards the bulky figure with the carapace-like armour and the seven-barreled railgun. The barrels begin to spin, and you stand your ground. Your sword grows ever brighter, and you see ghostly doubles of your own form coalesce out of golden light.
"Fivefold Bulwark Stance!" you shout, hoping that will help the Illuminati (or whoever they are) believe you are merely just another mage. You are not sure where the name comes to you from, but there is a feeling of rightness to it - as though you are not merely making it up, but translating it from some lost scroll.
The railgun fires, spitting hypersonic darts in lines of burning air. Your sword flashes and the blades of your ghostly doubles do likewise. Lines of burning gold essence cut each and every dart from the air, the exploding shards bouncing off of fields of shimmering golden light. The newcomers stare almost as one and behind you, you hear the man rise to his feet.
"Our duel shall not conclude today, sister. Run with your will-weavers, and take heed that our next meeting will be decisive. I have interlopers to deal with," the man says, the mark on his forehead burning black. Shadows seem to coil and surround him, and you feel his tainted, broken essence surge.
"Boss, whatever the fuck that it is, it's not a haemovore," a woman whose skin seems just a fraction too perfect, and just below her collar you see the lines where the gaps in her armour-plating are just barely large enough to be visible.
"I'm well aware of that fact. All units, converge on my location. Covering fire, if you would Mr Killian," the young man says, and the huge armoured figure spins up his railgun again.
"Time for you to leave, sister," your dark opposite says, and you feel a moment of conflict. You know that the two of you are destined to meet again only in battle, but there is an odd honour to this man. You have already injured him, your sunlit blade burning his flesh beyond immediate repair. Deep down, you feel that to leave now would be to abandon him, though you know that there can be no peace between you.
[x] Leave now, and let these technological nightmares fight this abyssal counterpart of yours.
[x] Stay, and teach these impudent newcomers why all of Creation once feared the Exalted Hosts.
AN: Long time no update. I'm going to reconfigure the char sheet for the revised edition of the fangame that came out whilst this quest went between updates.
LinkOnScepter
The One who Strangles Concepts to death
- Location
- Interwebs
Just found this. We need more Exalted vs WoD Quest.
[x] Leave now, and let these technological nightmares fight this abyssal counterpart of yours.
Wouldn't be anime without the "We will finish this later" thing.
[x] Leave now, and let these technological nightmares fight this abyssal counterpart of yours.
Wouldn't be anime without the "We will finish this later" thing.
- Location
- Canada
[x] Leave now, and let these technological nightmares fight this abyssal counterpart of yours.
MiracleGrow
Miracles for only $19.99 [They/Them]
- Location
- DOOR STUCK DOOR STUCK PLEASE I BEG U
[x] Leave now, and let these technological nightmares fight this abyssal counterpart of yours.
- Location
- California
[x] Leave now, and let these technological nightmares fight this abyssal counterpart of yours.
I advocated going after the abyssal last time, because fighting the same person twice is usually a bad idea. They know how to fight you and everything will be harder. But that was under the assumption we'd be able to beat the guy before the cyborgs showed up. Clearly that didn't happen. Which is why I now advocate the time honored tactic of 'lets you and them fight'. We're not finishing this battle right now no matter what. Which ever we go after, the other is going to get away. I say let them fight and we get away.
I advocated going after the abyssal last time, because fighting the same person twice is usually a bad idea. They know how to fight you and everything will be harder. But that was under the assumption we'd be able to beat the guy before the cyborgs showed up. Clearly that didn't happen. Which is why I now advocate the time honored tactic of 'lets you and them fight'. We're not finishing this battle right now no matter what. Which ever we go after, the other is going to get away. I say let them fight and we get away.
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[x] Stay, and teach these impudent newcomers why all of Creation once feared the Exalted Hosts.
