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@Enkryption

I guess if she's still vulnerable to fire and magic, I suppose that's alright. Although, most of the enemies that would be fighting the guild won't be wielding much magic. Does her weaknesses change if she turns into an object?

Also, I didn't understand the 2nd rule about that Projection Reflection thing.


Annalise is vulnerable to anything and everything a Slime is, whether she's in Slime Form or Chest Formm. Her race doesn't afford her anything special, defensely -- in so much as she can't even wear armor without it slipping off. Her reflection ability is her just throwing up fully functional weapons, armors, and miscellaneous items, like accessories and ammunition absorbed by her Slime, imprinted with the form that was once held.

Not actually transforming herself into armor or weapons -- just into a chest, since people like to open those. She's an ambush predator, after all.

The second rule is simply, because anything Annalise "creates" is 100% exactly what it was, so it can't exist for long within the presence of the original item, a la the urban legend of Doppelgangers. This serves to power-balance, since Annalise can eat artifacts, and, if she remembers it, recreate it as it was then and there.

So, the stronger something is, the faster the "Doppelganger rule" kicks in. An artifact won't last, but maybe a few minutes, while an gold coin could last days.
<Snipped quote by The Irish Tree>

Didn't Neph come from Tulisan Forest which is pretty near the guild?

Anyway, Magnus and his family and Neph are both famous enough for Bart to have heard of them and be interested. Meanwhile, no one really knows who Annalise is.

Though, I suppose we can justify Bart meeting Annalise in a way. Now, we just have to find out if Annalise really can shakes off anything thrown at her.


...is that what the problem was? Man, I'm sorry, honestly. I've spent the last few days trying my damnedest to understand how Annalise is anymore invulnerable than your average Slime. That's just hyperbole from an adventurer on drugs, remembering an event, poorly, after the fact, about a slime he found at the end of an infamous Lich dungeon, post-suffering a Party Wipe at the hands of other things. It's all he, personally, can remember, in his mental state.

Annalise is, honestly, the most passive thing in the Madame Lin Daw Dungeon, as she just moves from place to place, after eating, and sleeps. If anything, one could consider her a "mini-boss" of the dungeon, because she roves around, and is strong due to her Reflection Core, but, she's still a Slime. I guess, I wasn't clear enough, or it's just because I knew that fact, that caused the issue. So, again, I do apologize.

Although, I would have to think, a Mimic Slime isn't all that common among their ranks; and, since Annalise doesn't eat her victims, but their gear, leaving them naked, and therefore, forced to retreat in most cases, she would be spoken of -- if not as a threat, then, as a source of mockery by other adventurers.

Panic gripped her heart like curled fingers of fire and ice tipped with serrated talons of steel, as Maggie stumbled down the corridor. It was her ruckus that kept the bulk of the terracotta soldiers on her tail, and not the others; however, this was neither a noble sacrifice or a selfless one. It was fear, plain and simple. In the back of her mind, she knew she was a coward, knew she would run from danger... yet, no-one had stopped her.

Maybe, they tried, and the blood pounding in her ears had defended her to their desperate cries.

Maybe, someone reached out to her, and her years of fleeing from danger had rendered her simply faster.

Maybe.

Maybe..

Maybe...

[Not. They left.] said the mean voice in the back of her head; a dark spot of her paranoia, given voice. [After all, nobody with sense would willingly plunge into danger, if someone else is taking it away.]

Maggie heard stone marching upon her; swords ready to be drawn; ready to deliver the single slash needed to bring her into the fold as the order commanded over and over. However, a sudden bang caught her attention, as a door burst open, and she threw herself into a classroom; inside, there was no escape, beyond the window, and the teacher's desk. Instinctively, she threw herself under it, and into the alcove. Against the corner, she huddled, and hugged her knees to her chest; ready to rabbit, as soon as able.

They left me. Everyone abandoned me. They did, didn't they.’ Maggie thought, not questions, but statements. 'Even him.’ Her hands pressed into her temples. "Hey, wait! What's wrong!?" she remembered Noboru shouting. 'Wait. Was that to me? Did he try to stop me?’ she asks. 'Why didn't you follow me, Anchin? Why did you leave me...?

Suddenly, Maggie looked up, and a singular thought drowned out the shuffle of stone around her, as the soldiers wandered around the room: Who is Anchin?
So... been peeking in and out of this for a few months, now. Instead of lurking, friend talked me into joining, As such, here's a CS offer:

I would have a big, confused gif or pic here, but, mobile is uncooperative in some respects, so... uh... go with your impluse? If you wanna stabs him, I won't argue. I'll just roll with the punches -- once I'm awake enough to. I'm so tired..
@ShwiggityShwah

If something is disagreeable, lemme know. Kinda wanted to spin a little drama of Marshall "saving" Poxanne before she could react to the collapsing ship, as such, I did have to autopilot Poxanne a touch. So, like I said, if that doesn't fly, do tell, and I'll edit something to maintain the scene, while giving autonomy back. It's just been a long day of work, and I wanted to get up something.
Marshall laughed, as the Harvin spun her charms and bedside manner to the nth; a derisive laugh, more annoyed than amused, and yet, at his core, he did find a twisted form of amusement in how she tried to be precious, yet grown. “Poxanne,” he says, testing the flow of the name. “I wonder,” he says, standing up, as the lacerations began to shut, “what makes a Harvin think they are suited to medicine?” He extended his left arm, and fanned out his finger; bones popping and cracking, as they resumed the position they were born in, and calcium surged between cracks to recreate solid structure. “In the spite of it all, I’m curious of something...

Looking down, he tilted her head, as he drew Selmia’s Dagger, then hummed, and sheathing it. He didn’t want to chance handling it too much. Instead, he angled a finger at his left wrist, and shot a bolt of blood through it; suppressing his healing factor to drain the infected blood. “... just what did you think you would get in here,” he finally asked. “You asked, ‘Imperial’ to my nature. That implies you may have assumed soldier,” he looked around, “A fine assumption. All things considered. That is answer is no. I’ve no fancy for that.

Marshall cast his back to her, stretching himself out, and thinking, “Did you, perhaps, think, fallen royalty,” he smirked, looking back, “How high? King? Duke?” Marshall eyed her expressions, “Ah, prince? Runaway, I bet. A flight of fancy.” Turning back, he squatted to his ankles. “Sorry,” he tilted his head, and extended his armored hand to tip up her chin, “I’m a thief from the Astral-forsaken island of Yoltarie. No-one special.” Marshall shifted, and darted forwards; to the untrained eye, he was tackling Poxanne without warning or reasoning. Fortunately, that was not the case...

A wreck was a wreck, and its state was unkind; unknowable. Marshall had been in many a wrecked ship, and they had telltale signs of imminent collapse. Marshall raced forward, cradling the Harvin against his chest; he couldn’t care less about the rest of the beings that had been close. In truth, he wasn’t caring about the Harvin much either, but her safety meant lodgings, a meal, a heated bath, and many amenities that were denied him in Ziggurat -- most importantly, it meant a damn shave.

Around him, the airship creaked and groaned; a weakened structure meant to fly and idle, not smash into ground, and stay half folded on itself. “My name is Marshall,” he finally answered, “and, if you don’t mind, I’m going to steal you for a bit,” Hand against the back of Poxanne’s neck, he braced her for what was coming, as he shot a thick burst of blood -- blasting off a hatch, and letting sunlight bleed in. Marshall lunged out of it, and sailed through air, before crashing into the treeline before... surging through the canopy, he took the brunt of the impacts, and landed in a nice clearing.

That’s just what I do,” he says, setting her down, as the remainder of wreck came crashing to the earth.


@The Irish Tree & @ShwiggityShwah
A'ight.
@The Irish Tree

For the sake of the cast, I'll ask here, instead of DM'ing you: what's the back and forth limit, if there is one? Like, how many times can people post back and forth to play out a scene without prompting a GM post?
At least, we've half a cast again, since half was gone. That's a nice thing.
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