AT this point in the timeline the Brass keep should be in imperial hands...
Warhammer Fantasy: A Dynasty of Dynamic Alcoholism
- Thread starter torroar
- Start date
- Mature
-
- Tags
- warhammer warhammer fantasy fantasy intrigue happens male protagonist ck2 quest belief stronk count of cannons drunken wisdom foes in the shadows graf of guns (guns) if you have a question check the front page first it begins... mountain vietnam ogres paranoia rising unseen enemies everywhere use the search function before asking waifu wars wake the bull
AT this point in the timeline the Brass keep should be in imperial hands...
okais
Tech Arthur
- Location
- Brunei
It was quest by Jemnite. .http://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/norscan-quest-warhammer-fantasy.310133/
It's more of warband at the moment. Thought not in CK2 style though.
Sadly in a coma or dead.
Edit: put the wrong person earlier.
It's more of warband at the moment. Thought not in CK2 style though.
Sadly in a coma or dead.
Edit: put the wrong person earlier.
Last edited:
What? I must see this.
Attack on Wulfenburg Castle
Wulfenburg Castle
The only warning you receive is the sound of stone being torn asunder.
Your eyes shoot open, instincts roaring, and before Natasha is even awake you have grabbed her and thrown the both of you off of the bed. Which is good, because a few metric tons of mortar and rock come crashing down, pulverizing the thick oak frame and shredding everything beneath into nothingness. Natasha shrieks, which is understandable, as the roof caves in and dust fills the air. Your body throbs in pain, but you elect to ignore it as a vast shadow tears out through the cloud of dust and dirt. Brain Wounder slices upward, and shears through something only for the rest of the massive claw to sweep out and slam directly into your side. Your right shoulder screams as it smashes into stone, cracking the bone and the wall both.
"Rrraaagh!"
Urgdug smashes through the door to your bedroom and the walls around it, and throws his club in a single armed whip towards the shape before scooping up both you and Natasha in his meaty arms. In a move of impressive speed he withdraws through the hole even as the Greatswords around him pour through, brandishing their weapons and yelling all the while. As for yourself, you are too busy screaming in pain from the near complete shattering of the bones in your right arm. Nonetheless you hold Brain Wounder in your left hand. Unfortunately one of the flashes of numbness has hit you, and you cannot actually feel that entire arm, relying on the one eye you can force open to see the sword being held haphazardly.
"What is happening," you grunt out as Urgdug hustles down the hallway.
He attempts to answer only for another mass of claws and tentacles explodes through the left wall, wailing in the exact same voice and tone of a newborn child. Urgdug does not halt his movement, and in fact only speeds up, shoulder checking the thing and sending it back out the hole it came through with a squeal of pain. Natasha is yelling her head off wordlessly, even as both you and Urgdug flinch as a layer of ice armor begins forming over her.
"Under attack!" Urgdug manages in a single breath even as he pauses, whipping his head back and forth down two different branching hallways. "Gotta get the kiddies," he says before thumping down towards your where your children reside.
Even as he says it your heart tightens. The children. You receive a new white flash of pain with ever lumbering step of Urgdug, but after having seen him in battle you know for a fact that he can go much faster. He's trying to go at a speed that won't make you pass out from the pain, but if anything happens to your children….
"Go faster," you say through grit teeth, "I'll be fine!"
Urgdug glances down at you with an look flickering between uncertainty and anger on his face. You growl wordlessly in response. The speed of your travel immediately speeds up, and you nearly do pass out, only the rage at what is happening keeping you conscious. As the ogre thunders through the hallways, out of the windows and balcony's you can see shadowed masses in the night in the courtyard of the Castle. The walls are high enough to obscure your city from sight at the moment, but the plumes of smoke rising towards the sky are recognizable in the moonlight as not being normal.
Your wife barks out something and Urgdug drops her, and you shout in surprise and anger first at her being dropped and then in astonishment as a horse of frost and ice forms beneath her even as she falls. Something that would normally take her much longer to form…until your bull through the haze of pain and adrenaline to remember that it is the last month of the year and thus the heart of winter. The galloping equine matches Urgdug who seamlessly places you upon the horse where stirrups and holdings curl upwards. You ignore the cold upon your flesh.
There is a rumble beneath all of you and the sound of a something like a titanic cough reaches your ears. Behind you, flooding the hallways come's a rolling and incredibly fast moving cloud of noxious black gas. Everything it touches melts apart, dripping like molten wax. The cloud comes on faster and faster, filling the hall before a wall of ice explodes out of nothingness to block it. Your head turns to see Veronika and Valentina with both hands outstretched, your daughters clutching at their matching dresses.
Nothing is said as your party of five reaches the rooms of your sons. Instead of having to collect them from all their rooms, they stand in the middle of the hallway, a small phalanx of Greatswords protecting them who look relieved at seeing you. Magnus, the biggest of the three, has gathered Oskar and Arthur together, his dark green eyes far too serious for a child his age to possess.
"Dad!" the five year old calls out.
"Mag-,"
A mass of rotting flesh and calcified bone smashes down through the ceiling and walls, sending splinters of wood and rock flying. Your children scream. You roar their names, Natasha sends a flurry of ice spikes towards the mass, and Urgdug stomps forward, ripping a door out of it frame and throwing it like a discus. It explodes on the things nose, but the creature does not even wince, the baleful glow within sunken eye sockets flaring only slightly.
"Enough."
A blast of purple and black energies flies out, simultaneously striking Urgdug and sending him flying back through a wall and pushing out the dust clouds entirely. As such, your foe is finally fully revealed. The moonlight of Mannsleib illuminates a horrific thing and one you had hoped was a myth.
The massive undead dragon rears slightly, sending more of the roof and walls toppling aside as it readjusts to better fit. Great masses of its flesh have fallen away, revealing enormous bones covered in the slime of rot and death. Disturbing and mind twisting light courses openly through the larger openings of its body and within it. Atop it however…
Your one handed grip on Wounder tightens.
A monster looks back, a single eyebrow raised imperiously. The flesh is pale and mottled, stretched so tightly on the skeleton beneath as to appear thinner than a single layer of parchment. A disgusting and rotten set of black robes are the only clothes that it deigns to wear, while around its neck an ominous pendant glows. A strange mixture of staff and scythe is held in one unnaturally thin hand, the blade glinting with an unnatural sheen that makes your skin crawl. You feel a wave of revulsion come over you simply from looking, and that is before it spoke. When it did, the very words that slipped between what looked like painfully dry lips seemed to reverberate with something incomprehensibly wrong, the air seeming to darken simply when it spoke.
"So. Here….you are. I see the blade you carry, Hohenzollern," it says, disdain and contempt dripping from every syllable.
"Zacharias…"
"Oh!" its face twists in a mockery of surprise, "The maggot speaks. If but I had a treat for you. Alas…you vex me, Hohenzollern."
"How's that?" you say, trying to keep him talking, even while you try to gesture towards your boys to head towards you. But they seem frozen in fear, which is understandable given that there is an undead dragon and horrendously powerful Necrarch closer to them than you are.
"I do not monologue, child. I act."
The light on the dragons head flares, and the body moves. Arthur and Oskar wail, and Magnus screams. The small group of Greatswords try to intersperse themselves, but the razor claws of the Everliving's mount are more than enough to bisect them entirely. Time slows, until the only thing you can hear is your own heartbeat.
(Save Them 1d100+11 → [87,11] = (98)/100)
You may never know what it is that propelled to your children, adrenaline pouring through your veins like a burst dam. But then your arms are around your boys and you are ripping your body backwards with all three of your five year olds in your hands. The Greatswords, all ten of them, are slain instantly. Body parts fly about like from a broken toys. Not to mention how your shoulder throbs with such immense pain that you collapse to the floor bonelessly, but your children are no longer directly in the line of the dragons claws. Yet you cannot breathe a sigh of relief, for the dragon moves again, rumbling forward in silence.
The only warning that Urgdug gives is the shaking upon the ground of his bulk as he appears out of the dust from where he was thrown, bone exposed all along his right shoulder and arm from the immense force of the undead beasts strike. You can see the dark energies warping about in the air in Zacharias's palm and they lance out just as Urgdug strikes the beast, hitting the body parts of the slain Greatswords.
(Urgdug's Charge 1d100 → [82] = (82)/100)
Bone and rotting flesh crunch as Urgdug slams his bulk into the beast, smashing it sideways. The vampire atop it is unamused, and hisses something in a language that men were not meant to comprehend and be able to remain sane at the same time. His scythe flies down, your ogre friend only barely managing to dodge from the supernatural quickness of the strike, only for the vampire to twist unnaturally to the sound of crackling bones and ripping flesh and wrap sideways out of the haphazard saddle along the dragons neck, scythe staff and free hand both striking out.
(Zacharias vs. Urgdug 1d100 → [78] = (78)/100))
Urgdug screams. Your friend recoils backward, stumbling and falling onto his back, one hand clapped over his face. Blood fountains outwards through the slits of his fingers. Upon the dragon, Zacharias curls backwards onto his dragon with a cocked head, his left hand covered in ogre blood…and with a large white eyeball clutched within. The optic never hangs from it still. The vampire sniffs…and then to your disgusted face he consumes the orb, mouth stretching open slightly to accommodate. He does not even chew as he swallows. Of all things that vampire looks quizzical.
"Interesting. I've never had ogre before. I'll have to make a note..."
(Ice Mages Three 1d100 → [97] = (97)/100)
Three torrents of Ice Magic explode into being and rush towards the Everliving. In the dead of winter, towards the end of the year, and generated by two Master Ice Mages and one Journeyman Ice Mage, they crash into the necromancer like the fury of Kislev itself. For the first time the seemingly unflappable Zacharias recoils...slightly, snarling and producing a shield of his own out of twisting energies that hurt your eyes just to look at them. The dragon he rides flails suddenly as parts of its limbs are frozen into solid blocks before shattering, removing an entire arm and shredding the already torn wings it possesses further. But then you have no more time to think about that as the reanimated bodies of the Greatswords have dragged themselves together and charge you. The children run behind behind you while you attempt to brandish Wounder in your one handed grip, right shoulder throbbing all the while.
(Fighting The Undead 1d100+11 → [23,11] = (34)/100)
You blink at the sudden feeling of pain in your stomach. Distantly, somewhere you can hear screaming. The chipped and broken edge of a shattered blade has sunk its way into your unarmored flesh, an deeply. Blood wells upwards and splashes along the ground. High above you, a fantastical storm of blue and white crashes against a hurricane of black and purple. You try to cough, but instead of air, blood flecks the ground. The zombified Greatsword says nothing, and wouldn't be able to anyway while missing their head, and instead merely removes the remains of its blade from you with a heartless squelch. Despite your best efforts, you collapse to the ground, and can only watch as the undead approach your children. They are the ones screaming.
Anna and Alexandra try to throw any form of magic they can, but can only manifest guttering blue white sparks. They shriek in fear as one of the undead gets close, and you begin to drag yourself forward regardless of the pain. Oskar seems frozen, while Arthur is sobbing and trying to crawl away. Magnus...
(Named For The Pious 1d100 → [54] = (54)-10 Child Malus =44/100)
He tries. He truly does. Oskar is pulled out of the way of a grasping hand from a halved torso, and the five year old is lifted up. He kicks, and screams, and punches, but the literal death grip of the undead is more than he could possibly overcome. You attempt to call for Natasha, but only blood burbles from your mouth this time, not even air much less words. Somehow she hears, or maybe her instincts inform her, and you see the brilliant magics suddenly lose some of their light as your wife tries to intervene. She turns, and takes a single step towards your children, magic rising in her hands.
(Zacharias 1d100 → [5] = (5)/100)
For a moment you do not understand why she has fallen to the ground, until you see the blade of the scythe of Zacharias on the other side of her. Faster than you could see, faster than anyone here could see or much less react to, the scythe staff was thrown with inhuman precision. You cannot see Natasha's face, for she has fallen forwards. She is not moving.
You cannot even tell if she is breathing.
A red haze takes over your vision, and then you are up and moving. The zombie has begun strangling Magnus, only for you to tackle it to the side in a clatter of plate metal, bone, and dead flesh. Magnus rips himself away, gasping for breath, only for the creature beneath you to shift and begin targeting you again. You struggle against tireless and necromantic strength, before seeing more of the creatures approaching the rest of your children. Growling, blood flowing openly from your stomach and mouth, you grapple with the zombie in an effort to try and rescue your children. In the background the dragon flails as more Ice Magic is poured in, the might of Veronika and Valentina barely managing to match Zacharias, and only then because of it being the dead of Winter and their own training.
(Grappling While Wounded 1d100+11-5 → [39,11,-5] = (45)/100)
All your strength....all your rage...and you cannot break the zombies grip. In life it was a strong and hearty Greatsword, a premier warrior with honors and skill aplenty. In death, all of this has been turned against you. You struggle. You rage. And you can do nothing as your children try to scramble away before being corralled by the same Greatswords who had been protecting them only moments before. Your bones creak under the undead's grip, even as you attempt to throw yourself towards your children. Not like this. Not while you can still breathe. While you can still move. You refuse. But for once, your denial to the universe is answered by an equally unforgiving and unrelenting force. Oskar flails as he is picked up in the grip of a now one armed zombie Greatsword.
(Oskar 1d100-10 → [25,-10] = (15)/100)
You scream.
You rage.
The grip of the zombie tightens around your son's throat, and there is a faint snap.
(Break The Grip 1d100+11 → [9,11] = (20)+-5Wounded=15/100)
And the bones and dead flesh around your own limbs squeeze, and something in your left and numb wrist goes crack as your body nearly goes limp at the sight of the corpse held in the zombie's hands. Then the rest of the group save the one which you try to break free from even now advances on the rest of your children. They stare uncomprehending at the sight of their brother, who is tossed aside to loosely roll against a wall, all the life snuffed from him.Tears stream down all of their eyes, both of your daughters caught between looking at you and at the creatures surrounding them. They do not even try to summon their meager magics anymore.
(Someone 1d100 → [91] = (91)/100)
There is a lumbering roar made up of equal parts pain and anger, and then an enormous body crashes into the mass of former protectors. Bones and flesh are pulverized all at once, and then Urgdug is there, blood pouring freely from a now gaping eye socket, the flesh around it horrendously pitched and puckered and bleeding as well. The pain from it looked stunning, and it was given how it kept the ogre from doing nothing until now. Without pausing he scoops up your children in his arms and shakily makes his way over to you, with one boot destroying the zombie that had begun choking you.
An explosion rumbles the area, and your vision, once hazy with red but now only with growing darkness, turns to see a good third of the undead dragon remaining. An absolute beast of frost and ice and fur and rage has leapt atop it, and with a roar tears one of Zacharias's arms off. The vampire shrieks in outrage before batting away the thing to the ground where it rolls back up onto its feet immediately. One of the sisters, you can't tell which, roars something loud enough to make the ground tremble, to which Zacharias snarls back with his same black language. By now you cannot actually comprehend what anyone is saying. Then he turns towards you and barks something that you do not quite hear, and plunges his remaining arm into the zombie dragon's skull. Power explodes from its eyes, and with a single buffet sends everyone reeling back, even Urgdug. The dragon shoots into the air and then disappears into the night, even as blasts of ice follow it the entire way out until it can truly be seen no longer. As it leaves the slowly twitching bones of the zombies cease.
Everything sounds as if it has been muffled by a great distance, even as you are hustled onto a bed. Your chilren....your children are wailing. As the world grows dark around you, there is a small burst of green as the Jade Wizards arrive. One heads to you immediately, even as you try to tell him to help your son. Your son who had loved to read, who had said he wanted to be a ships captain one day out of the blue.
But he shakes his head, your incomprehensible blabbering and attempted pointing are halted as he points at your wife. He mouths something you cannot understand, but your eyes do.
A great gash of horror has erupted along your wife's spine. She has been laid atop the bed on her front while the most powerful of the Jade Wizards lays hands upon her, a throne of vines appearing from seemingly nowhere. The wound has sliced down to what you think might even be bone, from opened up from side to side in a single slice. But the flesh around has turned black and purple, and the stink from it is able to be detected from here as it decays unnaturally. Your eyes swivel once more to find the scythe which has been left untouched save for one man who screams as his hand beings to smoke merely from contact. The Jade Wizard says something again, and you struggle to see his words.
(Going Down 1d100 → [7] = (7)/100)
But you see nothing, and fall into darkness. Your wounds are not fully life threatening, your mind tells you this, especially now that the Jade Wizards are here. The gut wound was grievous but not beyond even mundane care. The shoulder and wrist, the same. A small and in the end meaningless comfort.
An image burns itself into your mind as oblivion takes you into its embrace for a time. Two of them, actually.
A small body, rolled against a wall like a piece of litter.
A slumped woman, unmoving. Unbreathing.
Zacharias will pay.
If you have to burn the forest down...he will pay.
He....will......pay.....
The only warning you receive is the sound of stone being torn asunder.
Your eyes shoot open, instincts roaring, and before Natasha is even awake you have grabbed her and thrown the both of you off of the bed. Which is good, because a few metric tons of mortar and rock come crashing down, pulverizing the thick oak frame and shredding everything beneath into nothingness. Natasha shrieks, which is understandable, as the roof caves in and dust fills the air. Your body throbs in pain, but you elect to ignore it as a vast shadow tears out through the cloud of dust and dirt. Brain Wounder slices upward, and shears through something only for the rest of the massive claw to sweep out and slam directly into your side. Your right shoulder screams as it smashes into stone, cracking the bone and the wall both.
"Rrraaagh!"
Urgdug smashes through the door to your bedroom and the walls around it, and throws his club in a single armed whip towards the shape before scooping up both you and Natasha in his meaty arms. In a move of impressive speed he withdraws through the hole even as the Greatswords around him pour through, brandishing their weapons and yelling all the while. As for yourself, you are too busy screaming in pain from the near complete shattering of the bones in your right arm. Nonetheless you hold Brain Wounder in your left hand. Unfortunately one of the flashes of numbness has hit you, and you cannot actually feel that entire arm, relying on the one eye you can force open to see the sword being held haphazardly.
"What is happening," you grunt out as Urgdug hustles down the hallway.
He attempts to answer only for another mass of claws and tentacles explodes through the left wall, wailing in the exact same voice and tone of a newborn child. Urgdug does not halt his movement, and in fact only speeds up, shoulder checking the thing and sending it back out the hole it came through with a squeal of pain. Natasha is yelling her head off wordlessly, even as both you and Urgdug flinch as a layer of ice armor begins forming over her.
"Under attack!" Urgdug manages in a single breath even as he pauses, whipping his head back and forth down two different branching hallways. "Gotta get the kiddies," he says before thumping down towards your where your children reside.
Even as he says it your heart tightens. The children. You receive a new white flash of pain with ever lumbering step of Urgdug, but after having seen him in battle you know for a fact that he can go much faster. He's trying to go at a speed that won't make you pass out from the pain, but if anything happens to your children….
"Go faster," you say through grit teeth, "I'll be fine!"
Urgdug glances down at you with an look flickering between uncertainty and anger on his face. You growl wordlessly in response. The speed of your travel immediately speeds up, and you nearly do pass out, only the rage at what is happening keeping you conscious. As the ogre thunders through the hallways, out of the windows and balcony's you can see shadowed masses in the night in the courtyard of the Castle. The walls are high enough to obscure your city from sight at the moment, but the plumes of smoke rising towards the sky are recognizable in the moonlight as not being normal.
Your wife barks out something and Urgdug drops her, and you shout in surprise and anger first at her being dropped and then in astonishment as a horse of frost and ice forms beneath her even as she falls. Something that would normally take her much longer to form…until your bull through the haze of pain and adrenaline to remember that it is the last month of the year and thus the heart of winter. The galloping equine matches Urgdug who seamlessly places you upon the horse where stirrups and holdings curl upwards. You ignore the cold upon your flesh.
There is a rumble beneath all of you and the sound of a something like a titanic cough reaches your ears. Behind you, flooding the hallways come's a rolling and incredibly fast moving cloud of noxious black gas. Everything it touches melts apart, dripping like molten wax. The cloud comes on faster and faster, filling the hall before a wall of ice explodes out of nothingness to block it. Your head turns to see Veronika and Valentina with both hands outstretched, your daughters clutching at their matching dresses.
Nothing is said as your party of five reaches the rooms of your sons. Instead of having to collect them from all their rooms, they stand in the middle of the hallway, a small phalanx of Greatswords protecting them who look relieved at seeing you. Magnus, the biggest of the three, has gathered Oskar and Arthur together, his dark green eyes far too serious for a child his age to possess.
"Dad!" the five year old calls out.
"Mag-,"
A mass of rotting flesh and calcified bone smashes down through the ceiling and walls, sending splinters of wood and rock flying. Your children scream. You roar their names, Natasha sends a flurry of ice spikes towards the mass, and Urgdug stomps forward, ripping a door out of it frame and throwing it like a discus. It explodes on the things nose, but the creature does not even wince, the baleful glow within sunken eye sockets flaring only slightly.
"Enough."
A blast of purple and black energies flies out, simultaneously striking Urgdug and sending him flying back through a wall and pushing out the dust clouds entirely. As such, your foe is finally fully revealed. The moonlight of Mannsleib illuminates a horrific thing and one you had hoped was a myth.
The massive undead dragon rears slightly, sending more of the roof and walls toppling aside as it readjusts to better fit. Great masses of its flesh have fallen away, revealing enormous bones covered in the slime of rot and death. Disturbing and mind twisting light courses openly through the larger openings of its body and within it. Atop it however…
Your one handed grip on Wounder tightens.
A monster looks back, a single eyebrow raised imperiously. The flesh is pale and mottled, stretched so tightly on the skeleton beneath as to appear thinner than a single layer of parchment. A disgusting and rotten set of black robes are the only clothes that it deigns to wear, while around its neck an ominous pendant glows. A strange mixture of staff and scythe is held in one unnaturally thin hand, the blade glinting with an unnatural sheen that makes your skin crawl. You feel a wave of revulsion come over you simply from looking, and that is before it spoke. When it did, the very words that slipped between what looked like painfully dry lips seemed to reverberate with something incomprehensibly wrong, the air seeming to darken simply when it spoke.
"So. Here….you are. I see the blade you carry, Hohenzollern," it says, disdain and contempt dripping from every syllable.
"Zacharias…"
"Oh!" its face twists in a mockery of surprise, "The maggot speaks. If but I had a treat for you. Alas…you vex me, Hohenzollern."
"How's that?" you say, trying to keep him talking, even while you try to gesture towards your boys to head towards you. But they seem frozen in fear, which is understandable given that there is an undead dragon and horrendously powerful Necrarch closer to them than you are.
"I do not monologue, child. I act."
The light on the dragons head flares, and the body moves. Arthur and Oskar wail, and Magnus screams. The small group of Greatswords try to intersperse themselves, but the razor claws of the Everliving's mount are more than enough to bisect them entirely. Time slows, until the only thing you can hear is your own heartbeat.
(Save Them 1d100+11 → [87,11] = (98)/100)
You may never know what it is that propelled to your children, adrenaline pouring through your veins like a burst dam. But then your arms are around your boys and you are ripping your body backwards with all three of your five year olds in your hands. The Greatswords, all ten of them, are slain instantly. Body parts fly about like from a broken toys. Not to mention how your shoulder throbs with such immense pain that you collapse to the floor bonelessly, but your children are no longer directly in the line of the dragons claws. Yet you cannot breathe a sigh of relief, for the dragon moves again, rumbling forward in silence.
The only warning that Urgdug gives is the shaking upon the ground of his bulk as he appears out of the dust from where he was thrown, bone exposed all along his right shoulder and arm from the immense force of the undead beasts strike. You can see the dark energies warping about in the air in Zacharias's palm and they lance out just as Urgdug strikes the beast, hitting the body parts of the slain Greatswords.
(Urgdug's Charge 1d100 → [82] = (82)/100)
Bone and rotting flesh crunch as Urgdug slams his bulk into the beast, smashing it sideways. The vampire atop it is unamused, and hisses something in a language that men were not meant to comprehend and be able to remain sane at the same time. His scythe flies down, your ogre friend only barely managing to dodge from the supernatural quickness of the strike, only for the vampire to twist unnaturally to the sound of crackling bones and ripping flesh and wrap sideways out of the haphazard saddle along the dragons neck, scythe staff and free hand both striking out.
(Zacharias vs. Urgdug 1d100 → [78] = (78)/100))
Urgdug screams. Your friend recoils backward, stumbling and falling onto his back, one hand clapped over his face. Blood fountains outwards through the slits of his fingers. Upon the dragon, Zacharias curls backwards onto his dragon with a cocked head, his left hand covered in ogre blood…and with a large white eyeball clutched within. The optic never hangs from it still. The vampire sniffs…and then to your disgusted face he consumes the orb, mouth stretching open slightly to accommodate. He does not even chew as he swallows. Of all things that vampire looks quizzical.
"Interesting. I've never had ogre before. I'll have to make a note..."
(Ice Mages Three 1d100 → [97] = (97)/100)
Three torrents of Ice Magic explode into being and rush towards the Everliving. In the dead of winter, towards the end of the year, and generated by two Master Ice Mages and one Journeyman Ice Mage, they crash into the necromancer like the fury of Kislev itself. For the first time the seemingly unflappable Zacharias recoils...slightly, snarling and producing a shield of his own out of twisting energies that hurt your eyes just to look at them. The dragon he rides flails suddenly as parts of its limbs are frozen into solid blocks before shattering, removing an entire arm and shredding the already torn wings it possesses further. But then you have no more time to think about that as the reanimated bodies of the Greatswords have dragged themselves together and charge you. The children run behind behind you while you attempt to brandish Wounder in your one handed grip, right shoulder throbbing all the while.
(Fighting The Undead 1d100+11 → [23,11] = (34)/100)
You blink at the sudden feeling of pain in your stomach. Distantly, somewhere you can hear screaming. The chipped and broken edge of a shattered blade has sunk its way into your unarmored flesh, an deeply. Blood wells upwards and splashes along the ground. High above you, a fantastical storm of blue and white crashes against a hurricane of black and purple. You try to cough, but instead of air, blood flecks the ground. The zombified Greatsword says nothing, and wouldn't be able to anyway while missing their head, and instead merely removes the remains of its blade from you with a heartless squelch. Despite your best efforts, you collapse to the ground, and can only watch as the undead approach your children. They are the ones screaming.
Anna and Alexandra try to throw any form of magic they can, but can only manifest guttering blue white sparks. They shriek in fear as one of the undead gets close, and you begin to drag yourself forward regardless of the pain. Oskar seems frozen, while Arthur is sobbing and trying to crawl away. Magnus...
(Named For The Pious 1d100 → [54] = (54)-10 Child Malus =44/100)
He tries. He truly does. Oskar is pulled out of the way of a grasping hand from a halved torso, and the five year old is lifted up. He kicks, and screams, and punches, but the literal death grip of the undead is more than he could possibly overcome. You attempt to call for Natasha, but only blood burbles from your mouth this time, not even air much less words. Somehow she hears, or maybe her instincts inform her, and you see the brilliant magics suddenly lose some of their light as your wife tries to intervene. She turns, and takes a single step towards your children, magic rising in her hands.
(Zacharias 1d100 → [5] = (5)/100)
For a moment you do not understand why she has fallen to the ground, until you see the blade of the scythe of Zacharias on the other side of her. Faster than you could see, faster than anyone here could see or much less react to, the scythe staff was thrown with inhuman precision. You cannot see Natasha's face, for she has fallen forwards. She is not moving.
You cannot even tell if she is breathing.
A red haze takes over your vision, and then you are up and moving. The zombie has begun strangling Magnus, only for you to tackle it to the side in a clatter of plate metal, bone, and dead flesh. Magnus rips himself away, gasping for breath, only for the creature beneath you to shift and begin targeting you again. You struggle against tireless and necromantic strength, before seeing more of the creatures approaching the rest of your children. Growling, blood flowing openly from your stomach and mouth, you grapple with the zombie in an effort to try and rescue your children. In the background the dragon flails as more Ice Magic is poured in, the might of Veronika and Valentina barely managing to match Zacharias, and only then because of it being the dead of Winter and their own training.
(Grappling While Wounded 1d100+11-5 → [39,11,-5] = (45)/100)
All your strength....all your rage...and you cannot break the zombies grip. In life it was a strong and hearty Greatsword, a premier warrior with honors and skill aplenty. In death, all of this has been turned against you. You struggle. You rage. And you can do nothing as your children try to scramble away before being corralled by the same Greatswords who had been protecting them only moments before. Your bones creak under the undead's grip, even as you attempt to throw yourself towards your children. Not like this. Not while you can still breathe. While you can still move. You refuse. But for once, your denial to the universe is answered by an equally unforgiving and unrelenting force. Oskar flails as he is picked up in the grip of a now one armed zombie Greatsword.
(Oskar 1d100-10 → [25,-10] = (15)/100)
You scream.
You rage.
The grip of the zombie tightens around your son's throat, and there is a faint snap.
(Break The Grip 1d100+11 → [9,11] = (20)+-5Wounded=15/100)
And the bones and dead flesh around your own limbs squeeze, and something in your left and numb wrist goes crack as your body nearly goes limp at the sight of the corpse held in the zombie's hands. Then the rest of the group save the one which you try to break free from even now advances on the rest of your children. They stare uncomprehending at the sight of their brother, who is tossed aside to loosely roll against a wall, all the life snuffed from him.Tears stream down all of their eyes, both of your daughters caught between looking at you and at the creatures surrounding them. They do not even try to summon their meager magics anymore.
(Someone 1d100 → [91] = (91)/100)
There is a lumbering roar made up of equal parts pain and anger, and then an enormous body crashes into the mass of former protectors. Bones and flesh are pulverized all at once, and then Urgdug is there, blood pouring freely from a now gaping eye socket, the flesh around it horrendously pitched and puckered and bleeding as well. The pain from it looked stunning, and it was given how it kept the ogre from doing nothing until now. Without pausing he scoops up your children in his arms and shakily makes his way over to you, with one boot destroying the zombie that had begun choking you.
An explosion rumbles the area, and your vision, once hazy with red but now only with growing darkness, turns to see a good third of the undead dragon remaining. An absolute beast of frost and ice and fur and rage has leapt atop it, and with a roar tears one of Zacharias's arms off. The vampire shrieks in outrage before batting away the thing to the ground where it rolls back up onto its feet immediately. One of the sisters, you can't tell which, roars something loud enough to make the ground tremble, to which Zacharias snarls back with his same black language. By now you cannot actually comprehend what anyone is saying. Then he turns towards you and barks something that you do not quite hear, and plunges his remaining arm into the zombie dragon's skull. Power explodes from its eyes, and with a single buffet sends everyone reeling back, even Urgdug. The dragon shoots into the air and then disappears into the night, even as blasts of ice follow it the entire way out until it can truly be seen no longer. As it leaves the slowly twitching bones of the zombies cease.
Everything sounds as if it has been muffled by a great distance, even as you are hustled onto a bed. Your chilren....your children are wailing. As the world grows dark around you, there is a small burst of green as the Jade Wizards arrive. One heads to you immediately, even as you try to tell him to help your son. Your son who had loved to read, who had said he wanted to be a ships captain one day out of the blue.
But he shakes his head, your incomprehensible blabbering and attempted pointing are halted as he points at your wife. He mouths something you cannot understand, but your eyes do.
A great gash of horror has erupted along your wife's spine. She has been laid atop the bed on her front while the most powerful of the Jade Wizards lays hands upon her, a throne of vines appearing from seemingly nowhere. The wound has sliced down to what you think might even be bone, from opened up from side to side in a single slice. But the flesh around has turned black and purple, and the stink from it is able to be detected from here as it decays unnaturally. Your eyes swivel once more to find the scythe which has been left untouched save for one man who screams as his hand beings to smoke merely from contact. The Jade Wizard says something again, and you struggle to see his words.
(Going Down 1d100 → [7] = (7)/100)
But you see nothing, and fall into darkness. Your wounds are not fully life threatening, your mind tells you this, especially now that the Jade Wizards are here. The gut wound was grievous but not beyond even mundane care. The shoulder and wrist, the same. A small and in the end meaningless comfort.
An image burns itself into your mind as oblivion takes you into its embrace for a time. Two of them, actually.
A small body, rolled against a wall like a piece of litter.
A slumped woman, unmoving. Unbreathing.
Zacharias will pay.
If you have to burn the forest down...he will pay.
He....will......pay.....
Wild mass guessing here.
Noticed it was on the interactive map while not on our maps.
It's even possible that the Brass Keep hasn't even been built yet...
Edit: Well... shit...
Last edited:
Can I just note how horrible an idea it is to build anything called the Brass anything when people know that brass is a big Khorne thing?
Yeah thanks for a fun quest torroar I am out.
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
I think some of our children are still alive but Natasha is definitely dead.
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
The nat 1.
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
"Ostland is too successful, I'd better knock them down a notch"
And then we crit-failed the "Is it time to crush their hopes and dreams absolutely?" roll, and he walked in and roflstomped us in our place of power, and came out with no significant losses, because he's so strong that it took Multiple 90+ results just to be allowed to have a chance at saving our children.
And even then, he still killed one, and our wife--and again, he took no real damage.
Going to have to agree. This was fun but now it's not.
KleverKil'Vanya
Ortillery Operator
Same, no fucking way to recover this, had hopes that you wouldn't end the quest this way but whatever.
So @torroar - Did you just get tired of this quest suddenly? Cause there is not a damn thing we could have done to stop this, hopefully your next one doesn't have this kind of "Rocks fall, you live! Then I shot you . . .", Bullshit in it.
So @torroar - Did you just get tired of this quest suddenly? Cause there is not a damn thing we could have done to stop this, hopefully your next one doesn't have this kind of "Rocks fall, you live! Then I shot you . . .", Bullshit in it.
Last edited:
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
Natasha and Ostkar, Urgdug was badly wounded and lost an eye, Fredrick got seriously fucked up, as he had several very bad rolls.
Zachairas ran off on his undead dragon who was only partially blown up, he's still fresh as a fiddle.
Apparently everyone in Fred's family but him.
Yeah, *clap clap clap* good job taking the shiny instead of taking the initiative to go after the jackass people. Despite being told that Zacharias WILL try to fuck us up because we are too successful.
- Location
- Canada
notanautomaton
I've got 99 quests, I've finished one
One bad roll after a series of poor decisions and you drop? Wuss.
Also I don't blame you for this Torroar. I blame the people who went nah we can put off killing the fucking third gen vampire that has drank from a dragon. And the one.