[X] Yes.
Morr, Your Dauther will not be found wanting...
Morr, Your Dauther will not be found wanting...
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Warhammer Fantasy: Thirteen Tolls - An Apocalypse Quest
- Thread starter Graf Tzarogy
- Start date
- Fantasy
- Location
- United States
[X] Yes.
[X] Yes.
This gives us the chance we need
Either to blow up the spear, or to jam our god-killing sword into the monstrosity above.
This gives us the chance we need
Either to blow up the spear, or to jam our god-killing sword into the monstrosity above.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Yes
I fear this is where we will be in the Last Moment. I would prefer sabotaging it earlier and then running to hide in the city, but it makes sense that we take the airplane control dashboard that the Princeps is giving us.
Unless he is giving it to us to tie our hands... but we can't think like that, it would be paralysing.
Meanwhile, I have envisioned how it could go. I hope it does not end up being a spoiler
"There was no other way. It had begun. The crackling energies were getting ever stronger. You knew that you couldn't even approach the Spear without being disintegrated into atoms. But wielding the sword provided a shield against the windstorm, like a rock against the roaring waters. Time to walk, step by step. Forward. No chance and no choice, only forward.
As you got even closer, the noise actually diminished, as if all was muted. The distant cries of the millions of long-tortured rats and imprisoned spirits. The storm of crackling energies. The exploited and misused divinity of the spear seemed oddly silent, too. Like a lamb before the headsman, that had previosuly been sullen in horror at how it was used, and now was silent when rearing its head, contemplating the blade.
The gleaming blade, sharper than ever.
Its form now seemed misshapen to your sight, as if it was both serrated and cracked - missing a piece, always hungry - and a squat, slightly plump shield, almost like a greying humanoid figure was finally visible in the blinding, ever-increasing light.
You brought back the blade for a strike, and switfly swung.
The cables cracked and snapped, great flashes of light and dark as they floated freely, dangerously loose. You did not care for whatever consequences this was undoubtedly swiftly bringing to the surface. Meanwhile the spear seemed to almost melt, with white-hot, high-pressure incandescence.
The Princep, with his infinitely arrogant, deliberately charming, terrifyingly overwhelming power could easily rush here and get the cables back.
But he couldn't repair the Spear.
The second strike broke the spear in twain. A torrent of glossy sunlight erupted from it like a volcano, investing you and all things. The energy escaped its refuge, its prison - the Sword guzzled it avidly, becoming stronger, but it could never eat all of it, and its shield was not enough to protect you from the energy - you felt yor body, your soul, your very being burned, scorched, frayed at the edges.
Eventually, all was over. You were lying broken in a dusty, scorched plain.
You had no energy left to move, even to turn around. You had no idea of what happened with the Princeps' plan, and to the falling cities.
"Good. You have done so much good..." a voice, from nearby, but from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. A voice of fullness, satisfaction, and a not-so-hidden amusement.
"The Sun has been hidden by shadows, its foolishness revealed. The surface, with its pathetic cruel godling that wants to arise, is currently a mess of wonderful madness."
"And I... am stronger. Our partnership works so well, you know. I think it's worth keeping it, really."
The voice sounded slightly obscene; a flutter of energy in you rebelled in distaste. Like a small bird, stricken by thunder and thrown on the ground by a storm, covered in soot. An indignant small bird, reawakening, wings fluttering on the ground, peeping in defiance.
It was a very specific image and it occupied vividly most of your mind. Was it your soul, another God, a small divinity? Who knew.
The voice continued, as if to try to shut up your mental image.
"In recompense for bringing this about, it is time for you to rise... as a Daemon Prince".
*Big Choice follows
** It was never about Tylos, Kavzar, the Princeps or the Skaven-ratkind, yes-yes. That was just the backdrop. The Big Confrontation of the story is Morr vs. Necoho (or, Nehoco). Always has been
** If you read between the lines, in this alt-universe I like to leave open the possibility for Xenophon to become a sort of Herald for Morr
I fear this is where we will be in the Last Moment. I would prefer sabotaging it earlier and then running to hide in the city, but it makes sense that we take the airplane control dashboard that the Princeps is giving us.
Unless he is giving it to us to tie our hands... but we can't think like that, it would be paralysing.
Meanwhile, I have envisioned how it could go. I hope it does not end up being a spoiler
"There was no other way. It had begun. The crackling energies were getting ever stronger. You knew that you couldn't even approach the Spear without being disintegrated into atoms. But wielding the sword provided a shield against the windstorm, like a rock against the roaring waters. Time to walk, step by step. Forward. No chance and no choice, only forward.
As you got even closer, the noise actually diminished, as if all was muted. The distant cries of the millions of long-tortured rats and imprisoned spirits. The storm of crackling energies. The exploited and misused divinity of the spear seemed oddly silent, too. Like a lamb before the headsman, that had previosuly been sullen in horror at how it was used, and now was silent when rearing its head, contemplating the blade.
The gleaming blade, sharper than ever.
Its form now seemed misshapen to your sight, as if it was both serrated and cracked - missing a piece, always hungry - and a squat, slightly plump shield, almost like a greying humanoid figure was finally visible in the blinding, ever-increasing light.
You brought back the blade for a strike, and switfly swung.
The cables cracked and snapped, great flashes of light and dark as they floated freely, dangerously loose. You did not care for whatever consequences this was undoubtedly swiftly bringing to the surface. Meanwhile the spear seemed to almost melt, with white-hot, high-pressure incandescence.
The Princep, with his infinitely arrogant, deliberately charming, terrifyingly overwhelming power could easily rush here and get the cables back.
But he couldn't repair the Spear.
The second strike broke the spear in twain. A torrent of glossy sunlight erupted from it like a volcano, investing you and all things. The energy escaped its refuge, its prison - the Sword guzzled it avidly, becoming stronger, but it could never eat all of it, and its shield was not enough to protect you from the energy - you felt yor body, your soul, your very being burned, scorched, frayed at the edges.
Eventually, all was over. You were lying broken in a dusty, scorched plain.
You had no energy left to move, even to turn around. You had no idea of what happened with the Princeps' plan, and to the falling cities.
"Good. You have done so much good..." a voice, from nearby, but from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. A voice of fullness, satisfaction, and a not-so-hidden amusement.
"The Sun has been hidden by shadows, its foolishness revealed. The surface, with its pathetic cruel godling that wants to arise, is currently a mess of wonderful madness."
"And I... am stronger. Our partnership works so well, you know. I think it's worth keeping it, really."
The voice sounded slightly obscene; a flutter of energy in you rebelled in distaste. Like a small bird, stricken by thunder and thrown on the ground by a storm, covered in soot. An indignant small bird, reawakening, wings fluttering on the ground, peeping in defiance.
It was a very specific image and it occupied vividly most of your mind. Was it your soul, another God, a small divinity? Who knew.
The voice continued, as if to try to shut up your mental image.
"In recompense for bringing this about, it is time for you to rise... as a Daemon Prince".
*Big Choice follows
** It was never about Tylos, Kavzar, the Princeps or the Skaven-ratkind, yes-yes. That was just the backdrop. The Big Confrontation of the story is Morr vs. Necoho (or, Nehoco). Always has been
** If you read between the lines, in this alt-universe I like to leave open the possibility for Xenophon to become a sort of Herald for Morr
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Funny you should mention that, as incorrect about how Necoho operate as the larger idea is:
That's kind of what the Princepts has turned himself into. He's no longer mortal, but a Warp Entity. He can wear a cloak of mortality to fool mortals, but he's a self-actualized soul. The walk to the Old One Portal stripped away the illusion.
- Location
- New York
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Yes.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Yes.
Is this a choice? Is there anything we can do to thwart the Princep's plan by this point? Does he offer us this position knowing we stand against him? Are we just another piece of his plan, placed exactly where he needs us when he needs us? In the end, the only way to avoid a shared fate, was to have simply never played at all.
Is this a choice? Is there anything we can do to thwart the Princep's plan by this point? Does he offer us this position knowing we stand against him? Are we just another piece of his plan, placed exactly where he needs us when he needs us? In the end, the only way to avoid a shared fate, was to have simply never played at all.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
We can never thwart. The Ascension has been planned long ago. But we may change something.
Btw facing the Princeps feels a lot like facing Griffith
I am starting to think that this is too easy...
[X] No
Also because we being trapped tending to this wonder that is the Spring may leave us unable to influence things in the city.
Is it Fate, ruling everything? Is there something like the Hand of God, hovering above? Alas, at least is true that humans have little control, not even over their own will.
Btw facing the Princeps feels a lot like facing Griffith
I am starting to think that this is too easy...
[X] No
Also because we being trapped tending to this wonder that is the Spring may leave us unable to influence things in the city.
How many turns until the end? Is it Turn Thirteen? Because if so that's quite a long way away, but honestly the quest feels like it's much closer to the endgame than that.
Because I think we have to consider how much resources the Roost (and greater freedom of manoeuvre) give us, versus the opportunity we have here to strike at the heart of the enemy's plans, and the amount of firepower this thing represents. Also, guarding this thing is sort of a sinecure, I think - we'll have at least some ability to send messages or do other stuff, even if it's limited and our movements are somewhat watched. But more importantly, I think we need to think very seriously about whether we'll get a better shot than this.
As an example, we could try fusing our sword and the spear via a ritual into some sort of abominable paradoxical god-killing weapon, perhaps a scythe to go with the Morr theme, and climb the Tower with it. We could sacrifice the spear to make it explode, set up on a timer for when we have our final confrontation with the Princeps. Neither are necessarily good ideas, but it's an example of the kind of theo-magical firepower we'd have access to now. There's any number of Pro Gamer Moves which become possible when we have the occult equivalent of a 100MT thermonuclear device available.
If we do vote "[] Yes", and I think we should, then our immediate next step should be trying to put ourselves into some kind of trance or vision quest to contact Morr or Mrymidia, and getting a read on how we can best use the Spear to achieve our goals here. It likely won't be as simple as "Pull Lever to Unleash God-Killing Nuke", but there have to be options.
This could even be a way to sort of redeem/recontextualise our previous vision from Morr. We've seen what the worst possible victory looks like, now let's try to find out how we can get a better result.
Because I think we have to consider how much resources the Roost (and greater freedom of manoeuvre) give us, versus the opportunity we have here to strike at the heart of the enemy's plans, and the amount of firepower this thing represents. Also, guarding this thing is sort of a sinecure, I think - we'll have at least some ability to send messages or do other stuff, even if it's limited and our movements are somewhat watched. But more importantly, I think we need to think very seriously about whether we'll get a better shot than this.
As an example, we could try fusing our sword and the spear via a ritual into some sort of abominable paradoxical god-killing weapon, perhaps a scythe to go with the Morr theme, and climb the Tower with it. We could sacrifice the spear to make it explode, set up on a timer for when we have our final confrontation with the Princeps. Neither are necessarily good ideas, but it's an example of the kind of theo-magical firepower we'd have access to now. There's any number of Pro Gamer Moves which become possible when we have the occult equivalent of a 100MT thermonuclear device available.
If we do vote "[] Yes", and I think we should, then our immediate next step should be trying to put ourselves into some kind of trance or vision quest to contact Morr or Mrymidia, and getting a read on how we can best use the Spear to achieve our goals here. It likely won't be as simple as "Pull Lever to Unleash God-Killing Nuke", but there have to be options.
This could even be a way to sort of redeem/recontextualise our previous vision from Morr. We've seen what the worst possible victory looks like, now let's try to find out how we can get a better result.
It's the worst possible victory for Xenophon personally, but the best for the most souls. After all a Great Horned Rat that never finishes gestating because one absolute nutter in its Aethyric spawn point keeps saying no is one that never goes on to continually worsen the entire planet.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Also: Everyone who could be eaten, mortal or god, got introduced to the Serial Killer Priest.
That's a very important ingredient to the symbolism of the Horned Rat: Threes/odd numbers/three-sounding numbers. Two people agreeing means nothing if the third says no. Three mortals unable to agree only has meaning if the broader Warp Entity doesn't have enough divine mojo to snack on.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Refusal does not mean instant death.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
[X] No
I do not fucking trust this one bit.
I don't trust interacting with anything in the lair of what's basically Daemon Prince. I don't trust us to have any privacy. We already broke one taboo just so we could get a modicum of info sooner. We're already going to meet the Sons of Skavor. I say we do not sell out any more than we already have.
I do not fucking trust this one bit.
I don't trust interacting with anything in the lair of what's basically Daemon Prince. I don't trust us to have any privacy. We already broke one taboo just so we could get a modicum of info sooner. We're already going to meet the Sons of Skavor. I say we do not sell out any more than we already have.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
...Yeah, you know what, it is time to turn the tide. Let's vote No! Let's focus on the many things we have to do in the city that surely matter - fortifying the Roost, meeting the Sons of Skavor, etc.. Let's avoid being controlled in a golden, gilded cage that may spy on us and control our actions and influence Xenophon's very nature
- Location
- Between dreams and reality
You know what yeah.
When the answer seems obvious it probably isn't.
[x] No.
Also does anyone know what the wires on the spear mean?
When the answer seems obvious it probably isn't.
[x] No.
Also does anyone know what the wires on the spear mean?
- Location
- Washington
[X] No
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Given the Spear is stabilizing an Old One Warp Portal, the wires are siphoning off both the Divine Energy bestowed by Myrmidia within the artifact itself, and the purified Warp Energy of the portal by using the spear like a sponge.
And are doing a poor job of it, what with all the warpstone leakage and spear wrecking.
MiskWisk
Hoot
- Location
- Somewhere devoid of wit
- Pronouns
- He
If I had to speculate, I'd guess either the reduced energy in the spear via the siphoning is destabilising the spear, or the spear is attempting to counteract the siphoning by drawing more energy resulting in damage to it.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
I think the tapping, especially for such an evil purpose, is what's breaking the spear down. The fact that only one of the siphons is creating crystalized Warp energy tells me that this has long been such a mechanism.
The first was a vine, with dead purple leaves. Like the god whose high priest tended to the mutants in the sewers, who we saved from being consumed. They must have wanted a contaminated priest of a harvest god to feed a concept of Pestilence.
The second is fire, heat, yet contained within glass. I think the Sons of Skavor, what with their flames to dig into the glittering realm, have fashioned this resistance to the pure fires of magic. But if this was done by human hands, then it could only be done by technology, the hands of Skryre.
The copper thread, the crackling of electricity, each thunder-strike giving a vision of the hooded traitor, the future Grey Seer.
The shadow inverted, rising above like a whispy fog. We know that eventually Eshin will come to be the shadowy hand of the Council, and perhaps fittingly we don't know who shall fit this mould. Perhaps the Dark Elves?
The bone, fed with the Warpstone-marrow, that grows and grows ever larger even as the root is long dead. Moulder, who we've already seen use Chaos-tainted meat to feed the ever-hungry city regardless of the curse upon it.
The Four Great Clans. The Four Pillars of Tylos and Kavzar. The Grey Seers. The Princeps.
The top of the tower may be where the god is being made, where the divine energy is severed and fed to the broken, insane memory of an Old One. But this basement? This Warp Portal? This is the twisted womb where a Chaos God's body is incubating in the horrid symbolism it will live off of. Its bones, its flesh, its energies.
This is where the apocalypse will truly begin.
Vote closed
- Pronouns
- He/Him
TTS Rogal Dorn: "The dice have spoken."