Warhammer Fantasy: Honor is all, Chivalry is all (Bretonnia CK2)
- Thread starter Voikirium
- Start date
KnightDisciple
Love God. Do Right. Fear No Man.
- Location
- Midwest, USA
[X] Pull it out and bind the wound now, wolves or no wolves. You'd rather have less time to make your escape than have to do it with that thing in your side.
[X] South-West
[X] South-West
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Pull it out and bind the wound now, wolves or no wolves. You'd rather have less time to make your escape than have to do it with that thing in your side.
[X] South-West
[X] South-West
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The Green Tide pt.3
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The Green-Tide pt.3
The howling of wolves is your companion as you set yourself to the task. Grabbing your own small knife, you work quickly, grunting and bleeding even as you hear them coming. This would be hard, even if you weren't running off of blood-loss and sleep not ruined by your conscience.
Grabbing a stick from the ground, you bite it into, then you pull.
You scream and scream and scream, more terrible than you have ever screamed before-- it won't kill you, not even close, not with how many poisons you're immune to-- and in response the goblins cackle as they hear your pain.
That's okay though, because they're still Lady-Damned idiots.
Ripping off a chunk of your dress, you bind the wound tight then set off, stumbling and falling, but still yet purposeful. You stumble over mud and rock and branches and ice and a dozen other things even as the wolves come closer.
Still, eventually, you see it.
See, there's a reason you know this route; you've been here before, and you've been preparing.
Down below, the Hanging Mansion-- a prison that was turned into a Duchal residence after Sigismund the Hundred-Times-Damned was forced out of Bretonnia-- lies hanging over the river Grismerie, a hundred-foot drop down to its dark depths. You've studied it for ages, walking its halls, learning its secrets, mastering its secret passages.
It's also full of weapons for you to use-- vilest concoctions, darkest knives, foulest magical trinkets. Lain there when you still served Mab, they should still work well enough for this; the only you'd be at all concerned about is Khaine's Kiss, and if you need that things have really gone to shit anyway.
You see the ancient, worn away path that leads to the Mansion, covered in ice as it is, and leap. None too soon, either-- a whizzing spear flies overhead, tossed by hobgoblin hands.
You slide down on your side, arrows striking the ice near you, until finally the ground plummets out from beneath you.
Crossing your arms over you, you spot the glass that marks the entrance to your armory. You toss a knife, shattering the ancient stuff, and roll as you land-- and as you do, a bit of your adrenaline wears off-- and your entire body, but especially your side, tells you to go fuck yourself.
You ignore it as you walk over to the small changing room. Inside the dark, dusty room, the Night's Raiment still stands just as you left it-- black as shadows, and fearsome as terror. A simple black dress-- but crafted by fay, it can turn aside a bullet; but the cost...
The cost means nothing if you die now.
Sliding off the tattered remnants of your dress, you slide on the Night's Raiment. Even after 20 years, it still fits like a glove.
Then you slide on your knives, your poisons, your throwing stars and trip wires, and garrotes...
Morgyan Goes Away
And Mab's Marquess
Comes
Out
To
Play.
Oh frabjous day!
I need your help, and He's not around. There are Greenskin. Go wild.
Ooh, Morgyan, you didn't need to ask...
Who to Play with first?
[] There are a few Hobgoblins in the foyer, easy prey for you, Psycho.
[] There's a troll in side-wings, near the Dungeon; you know what to do.
[] Some shaman is poking around where he shouldn't, and he can really ruin your fun early
--
Since I know this is a bit confusing, to make a long story short Morgyan (Hint, hint, that I am slightly amazed more people didn't pick up on earlier) just pulled her equivalent of going Full Batman of Planet-X.
Would anyone like to guess whether that was for a hundred or a one?
The howling of wolves is your companion as you set yourself to the task. Grabbing your own small knife, you work quickly, grunting and bleeding even as you hear them coming. This would be hard, even if you weren't running off of blood-loss and sleep not ruined by your conscience.
Grabbing a stick from the ground, you bite it into, then you pull.
You scream and scream and scream, more terrible than you have ever screamed before-- it won't kill you, not even close, not with how many poisons you're immune to-- and in response the goblins cackle as they hear your pain.
That's okay though, because they're still Lady-Damned idiots.
Ripping off a chunk of your dress, you bind the wound tight then set off, stumbling and falling, but still yet purposeful. You stumble over mud and rock and branches and ice and a dozen other things even as the wolves come closer.
Still, eventually, you see it.
See, there's a reason you know this route; you've been here before, and you've been preparing.
Down below, the Hanging Mansion-- a prison that was turned into a Duchal residence after Sigismund the Hundred-Times-Damned was forced out of Bretonnia-- lies hanging over the river Grismerie, a hundred-foot drop down to its dark depths. You've studied it for ages, walking its halls, learning its secrets, mastering its secret passages.
It's also full of weapons for you to use-- vilest concoctions, darkest knives, foulest magical trinkets. Lain there when you still served Mab, they should still work well enough for this; the only you'd be at all concerned about is Khaine's Kiss, and if you need that things have really gone to shit anyway.
You see the ancient, worn away path that leads to the Mansion, covered in ice as it is, and leap. None too soon, either-- a whizzing spear flies overhead, tossed by hobgoblin hands.
You slide down on your side, arrows striking the ice near you, until finally the ground plummets out from beneath you.
Crossing your arms over you, you spot the glass that marks the entrance to your armory. You toss a knife, shattering the ancient stuff, and roll as you land-- and as you do, a bit of your adrenaline wears off-- and your entire body, but especially your side, tells you to go fuck yourself.
You ignore it as you walk over to the small changing room. Inside the dark, dusty room, the Night's Raiment still stands just as you left it-- black as shadows, and fearsome as terror. A simple black dress-- but crafted by fay, it can turn aside a bullet; but the cost...
The cost means nothing if you die now.
Sliding off the tattered remnants of your dress, you slide on the Night's Raiment. Even after 20 years, it still fits like a glove.
Then you slide on your knives, your poisons, your throwing stars and trip wires, and garrotes...
Morgyan Goes Away
And Mab's Marquess
Comes
Out
To
Play.
Oh frabjous day!
I need your help, and He's not around. There are Greenskin. Go wild.
Ooh, Morgyan, you didn't need to ask...
Who to Play with first?
[] There are a few Hobgoblins in the foyer, easy prey for you, Psycho.
[] There's a troll in side-wings, near the Dungeon; you know what to do.
[] Some shaman is poking around where he shouldn't, and he can really ruin your fun early
--
Since I know this is a bit confusing, to make a long story short Morgyan (Hint, hint, that I am slightly amazed more people didn't pick up on earlier) just pulled her equivalent of going Full Batman of Planet-X.
Would anyone like to guess whether that was for a hundred or a one?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Some shaman is poking around where he shouldn't, and he can really ruin your fun early
Yeah, no shaman, no.
Yeah, no shaman, no.
[X] Some shaman is poking around where he shouldn't, and he can really ruin your fun early
- Location
- Virginia
[X] Some shaman is poking around where he shouldn't, and he can really ruin your fun early
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Some shaman is poking around where he shouldn't, and he can really ruin your fun early
- Location
- USA
[X] Some shaman is poking around where he shouldn't, and he can really ruin your fun early
King Arthur
The Once and Future King
So, is there any reason the last option is the only one not in italics?
[X] Some shaman is poking around where he shouldn't, and he can really ruin your fun early
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Italics are Morgyan talking in your brain to keep you from doing anything too terrible with her body, non-italics are you and what you're thinking.
KnightDisciple
Love God. Do Right. Fear No Man.
- Location
- Midwest, USA
[X] Some shaman is poking around where he shouldn't, and he can really ruin your fun early
[X] Some shaman is poking around where he shouldn't, and he can really ruin your fun early
And I'm going to guess that the roll was a 100. Just because.
And I'm going to guess that the roll was a 100. Just because.
- Location
- USA
I'm going to guess it was a 1 seeing as Morgyan got beat to all hell getting in there and then has to put on a suit that she seems to be purposefully avoiding. Seriously, this is apparently a badass fae enchanted armor/ cloth thing left completely unguarded and she's only putting it on now instead of as soon as she got here? I'm betting that implies unfortunate side effects.
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Not to come in too heavily here, but the main side-effect of using it that Morgyan doesn't like is the whole "Crazy, blood-thirsty spirit formed of the wrath of a thousand blood-thirsty beasts, yoked under a fay whose sanity starts at Yan-Chan and precipitously descends from there has control over her body" part.
- Location
- West Michigan
[X] Some shaman is poking around where he shouldn't, and he can really ruin your fun early
