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Back Alive or Maybe Dead [Quest]

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  • I usually vote for social interaction, but I want to see some fancy sand-dragon riding!


    I write things.

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    • ...snapped King's reins and turned the lizard towards the cliff face. The rough stone was easily climbable for a sand-dragon.

      Also: not wandslinger. Fireslinger.


      Share your wonders in The Artifact and Evocation Workshop

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      • Ride King up the cliff face.


        Mouse monk riding a tiny pig avatar courtesy of the very talented forumite Jen!

        Jen's original portrayal of Mouse Monk, featuring some human or other named Tybalt Farwander.

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        • Take king on up, also I like wandslinger

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          • Sometimes you get what you ask for. This is one. Ash snapped King's reins and turned the lizard towards the cliff face. The rough stone was easily climbable for a sand-dragon. The Dunefolk were fierce with slings at range but few knew that they tended to get skittish when charged directly. Fortunately, Ash knew and hoped it worked this time.

            OOC: wandslinger, yes I like that.
            Last edited by KFinigan; 12-03-2016, 04:25 AM. Reason: I read the other posts and wanted to amplify my original.

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            • Ash.....started hollering in the Dunefolk's language. "{STAY! WE ARE FRIENDS!}"


              Are you in the market for some Martial Arts? Perhaps some custom Artifacts for your campaign?

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              • Ash snapped King's reins and turned the lizard towards the cliff face. The rough stone was easily climbable for a sand-dragon. She squeezed tightly with her legs and held on tightly to her saddlehorn as King scaled the cliffs. A few thrown stones and spears flew by her, one nearly clipping her hat off. Then she was over the edge, and she could look the enemy in the eyes - literally. She came up not five feet away from a painted warrior who, to his credit, had the presence of mind to keep his spear and take a stab at her once she came in reach.

                Instinct kicked in. Before Ash knew what she was doing, she had pulled the old matchlock from off her saddle. She waved the butt in front of her, knocking the dunefolk's spear aside. Then she gave King a nudge. The sand-dragon whirled around and floored the attacker with a strike of his tail.

                Ash let go of the reins and hopped off the lizard's back. She pulled her bandana up over her nose, tilted her hat down, and drew her bayonet from the belt at her waist. A few seconds later, she'd screwed the bayonet on and she was ready.

                The Ranger glanced at the fighter on the ground - groaning, broken ribs, probably not going to fight again - then took stock of the situation. There were four more warriors on this side of the cliff. King was already rushing at them, a red bolt running over the rocks. On the other side, she could see Lans had somehow managed to ride up to the top too. He was brandishing his saber, holding his ground against a group of eight other fighters surrounding him with their spears. For a moment, it seemed as though they might succeed in backing him over the cliff's edge. Then Seres jumped out of the canyon and rushed into the group's flank, screaming curses and whirling fists. The desert raider's ambush quickly became a confused melee.

                The Ranger returned her focus to her side. She sprinted after King, closing quickly with him and the dunefolk he'd engaged. She charged at the closest - a woman with scraggly hair, backing slowly away from King and preparing to sling a stone. The Ranger swung her matchlock at her with both hands. The stock thudded into the raider's side. She stumbled, nearly doubling over as she started to turn around. The Ranger swung again, up from the ground this time. The raider's jaw audibly cracked from the impact with old hardwood. Her eyes spun up into her head and she fell onto her back.

                Ahead, a bold young buck lunged at King and dorve a spear into the sand dragon's foreleg. King hissed angrily and swiped at the Dunefolk with his other foreleg. The dunefolk was swatted aside. He tumbled over the cliff, bleeding from King's curved claws.

                The last two raiders were rapidly backing away from the Ranger and her fearsome steed, holding out their spears defensively. They could see now the odds were stacked against them. The Ranger risked a look back at the other side of the canyon. Seres and Lans were now battling a scattered collection of dunefolk. It looked like they had dropped a few, but the raiders might still rally and the fight might go either way.

                The Ranger...
                • ...first tended to King, and the spear still stuck in his foreleg.
                • ...loaded up her matchlock, fired a blast into the air, and commanded the survivors to surrender.
                • ...leapt over the canyon and joined Lans and Seres in the fray
                • ...chased down the two retreating dunefolk on her side.
                • Something else?


                On the frontier of the Wild South, there's only one woman with the grit to take on its most dangerous outlaws and bring them Back Alive, or Maybe Dead.

                Avatar by K.S. Brenowitz

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                • ...loaded up her matchlock, fired a blast into the air, and commanded the survivors to surrender.


                  Share your wonders in The Artifact and Evocation Workshop

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                  • Originally posted by Ferryman View Post
                    ...loaded up her matchlock, fired a blast into the air, and commanded the survivors to surrender.

                    Let's do this.


                    I write things.

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                    • Originally posted by semicasual View Post
                      [*]...loaded up her matchlock, fired a blast into the air, and commanded the survivors to surrender.
                      Let's do this (He said with different emphasis from wonderandawe, to distinguish between the two comments).


                      Mouse monk riding a tiny pig avatar courtesy of the very talented forumite Jen!

                      Jen's original portrayal of Mouse Monk, featuring some human or other named Tybalt Farwander.

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                      • The Dunefolk really were not a serious threat now. No need to slaughter them needlessly. The Ranger loaded up her matchlock, fired a blast into the air, and commanded the survivors to surrender.

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                        • The Ranger loaded up her matchlock, fired a blast into the air, and commanded the survivors to surrender.

                          Well, that's not quite right. Let me elaborate a little.

                          The Ranger cooly drew a slow-match from her belt, turned her head away from the sight of the battle, and lit the fuse with her breath. Then she loaded her matchlock firewand, set the fuse, and pointed the end of the barrel at the sky. An instant later, a blast of sparks flew up over the canyon with a loud bang. The noise and the flash got everyone's attention. And once the Ranger had their attention, they couldn't look away.

                          She didn't say anything. She slowly walked towards the gap, firewand held aloft, glaring across the gap at everyone on the other side. Her eyes had a focus and a fury that you could make out at fifty paces. Even Seres and Lans flinched.

                          The Ranger slowly lowered the firewand, pointed it across the canyon, and waved it slightly to one side. Understanding the unspoken signal, the dune folk started to back off from her companions. Lans and Seres watched and kept their guard up, but the raiders didn't try anything. They just picked up their wounded and started walking away. The Ranger continued watching them in silence for some time as they left. Then she noticed a hand reach up and grasp the edge of the cliff by her feet. She instinctively turned her firewand down and pointed the bayonet at the head coming up out of the depths.

                          That head was dark grey and had a rough, stone-like texture to it, but its features were unmistakably Serge's. He started pulling himself up but stopped and did a double-take when he found the Ranger's bayonet in front of his face. "Whoah! I'm on your side!" he exclaimed.

                          Ash sighed and pulled her bandana down. Most of her tension went away with it. She loosened her grip on the firewand, let the bayonet fall and stick into the dirt.

                          Serge hauled himself out of the gorge and got to his feet. He looked around, grimaced, and spat. "They're running already? You're too fucking fast!" He glared at Ash, then at Seres and Lans across the way. "Not all of us have climbing lizards. Or magic horses. Or can FUCKING FLY!" he shouted at no one in particular.

                          Lans hunched over in his saddle and let his saber rest by the pommel. "It's not magic," he called, projecting his voice without yelling. "I just taught her how to clamber over things, like a mountain goat."

                          Seres laughed. "An' I'm just bouncin' off the walls!"

                          Serge groaned. "I don't care how you do it. You didn't leave any for me. You could've at least told me..." he trailed off, then spat again. He looked balefully down into the gorge. "And now I've got to climb back down. Funny."


                          They regrouped and took stock of things. Lans and Seres had scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. Bo and the mounts who had stayed in the canyon were unhurt, but Seres' pony had run off and it took a bit of work to find him.

                          Getting the spear out of King's foreleg and field-dressing the injury also took some time - only Ash could get close to him when he was hurt and defensive, but Bo knew more than Ash did about dressing wounds. So they made an arrangement where Ash would do all the work and explain what she was seeing while Bo stayed well back and called out advice. It worked, to the extent that they thought the wound would heal without any permanent harm.

                          After all that, the group unanimously decided they wanted to rest. They went on just a little further, to a hollow in the canyons that approximated a cave shelter. Ash figured this spot would be fairly easy to defend if the dunefolk decided to come back in numbers, despite the risk of being boxed in. There they made camp, fed themselves and their mounts, and settled in for the night.

                          Everyone claimed a corner of the hollow for themselves. Serge was out by the mouth, pacing back and forth, occasionally looking up at the sky. Lans and Seres were in the back, talking quietly but animatedly about something. Bo was lying on her bedroll off to one side, running a string of beads through her hands. Ash sat in the middle, right by the small fire they'd made, thinking. She looked around at her companions once, then...
                          • ...stood up and walked over to Serge. She took up a position beside the midpoint of his loop and watched him for a while. He didn't acknowledge her, until finally she spoke to him as he went by: "Somethin' on your mind?"
                          • ...got up and found a new seat on a rock beside Bo. Bo stopped what she was doing and looked up at her. "Yes, mistress?"
                          • ...moved to join Seres and Lans. "Hi there. Mind if I join you?"
                          • ...laid back and put her hat over her face. She would rest a bit and take the second night's watch.
                          • Something else?
                          Last edited by semicasual; 12-09-2016, 02:03 PM.


                          On the frontier of the Wild South, there's only one woman with the grit to take on its most dangerous outlaws and bring them Back Alive, or Maybe Dead.

                          Avatar by K.S. Brenowitz

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                          • OOC commentary
                            Whoops, I accidentally double-posted. Umm...

                            In my vision of Creation, passing yourself off as something other than an Exalt isn't hard to do for most Exalted. Few people, even among the Exalted themselves have enough knowledge of the occult to tell one kind of supernatural creature from another. Thus, superficial characteristics like stone-skin could theoretically be explained as the consequence of god-blood or some kind of magical blessing/curse rather than a mark of divine providence.

                            Of course, that sword cuts both ways. There could be many non-exalted out there who claim they are Princes of the Earth or even Anathema to claim privilege or inspire fear that they do not deserve. There could even be supernaturally empowered people who do not know what they truly are, and misattribute their unique abilities to a heritage or blessing that they do not have.
                            Last edited by semicasual; 12-09-2016, 01:29 PM.


                            On the frontier of the Wild South, there's only one woman with the grit to take on its most dangerous outlaws and bring them Back Alive, or Maybe Dead.

                            Avatar by K.S. Brenowitz

                            Comment


                            • We've talked to everyone at least once in this thread. Time to get some sleep.

                              She laid back and put her hat over her face.


                              Mouse monk riding a tiny pig avatar courtesy of the very talented forumite Jen!

                              Jen's original portrayal of Mouse Monk, featuring some human or other named Tybalt Farwander.

                              Comment


                              • We should talk to Serge again.


                                I write things.

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