MelonHead

End of a Dreamer

“Reap what you sow.”

Fury had not expected the sudden move, but it had not gone undetected. Immediately before Skallagrim could magnetize himself he would be forced to generate the electro-magnetic energy to polarise himself. Fury could detect this, and saw it was something different to that which gathered in his foe’s sword. However, he could not immediately exploit this, it would be something to recognise later. What he could do is slow himself to meet the sudden movement of his enemy, judging that they would come together before being dragged apart by their momentum, Fury had the perfect weapons for a mid-range encounter at high speed.

With a flick of his wrist the left disc hurtled through the air towards the oncoming Dreamer. Instinctively Fury had calculated his path as if he were about to fire a crossbow at him, but rather than leading the shot sufficiently to hit the Dreamer he had purposely launched his projectile too far ahead of him. Should the energy disc have been an ordinary thrown projectile his attack would be wasted, but with his power he halted it in mid-air, spinning chaotically still but waiting on Skallagrim’s chosen trajectory. At such speed, Fury was calculating on him having limited ability to manoeuvre, certainly less than himself. The merit of the disc was that he could easily move it into Skallagrim’s path provided he did not move an excessive distance.

With the burning energy-disc awaiting his arrival, its overall size at perhaps four feet in diameter, Fury intended to leave a dangerous obstruction in Skallagrim’s path. However, Skallagrim was still ahead of him and closing quickly, and he still had the disc in his right hand prepared. Skallagrim had a variety of tools with which to deal with the obstruction before him, both the shield and sword could potentially render his assault useless. However, he still had limits. Fury’s plan then was simple, a three pronged assault.

The disc in his hand shot off as he launched it in a curling fashion, much like the earlier disc purposely mistiming his throw to seemingly miss his enemy. However, unlike the first disc this one did not sit on Skallagrim’s line of trajectory, but passed him and then turned abruptly, curving around and back to harry Skallagrim’s rear. This left the Dreamer in a somewhat precarious position, he had a disc directly in front of him he could not easily avoid, a disc behind him that would catch up to him only a few moments before he reached the first, and the Fireen himself who was slowing quickly and would be in a position to strike at him seconds after his discs played their part. They were separated by about twenty feet in the air, and Fury would pass about twenty five feet past his disc-trap before being able to stop fully, having already turned to face his foe. The Dreamer had opted to turn himself to face the Fireen, leaving his flanks exposed instead to the menacing discs of energy.

Three pronged assault, the third prong promised to be the nastiest.

Arena Chat Thread

I have a concept for a character named "Mister President", who is a personification of the United States of America, and the combined collective consciousness of every US citizen.

@Descartes

You wouldn't be the first to come up with an American President character. I've seen three or four in the last few years. I think one was literally a past president risen from the grave.

Actually, that was you.

Apparently you just have a fascination with American Presidents.

Enduwin: Act 1 - The Dark Awaits

<Snipped quote by MelonHead>

What? Lovable old Oliver, with all his charm, wit and Marty McFly-style endearing fish-out-of-water antics?

Maybe "throw him into the sea" is code for "begin learning their super secret best friends handshake."

@Chanda

Now I think about it, maybe Oliver just looked thirsty?

Arena Chat Thread

Fighting a high tier character with a number of lower tier ones strikes me as a very unsatisfying experience for the lower tier players.

Arena Chat Thread

I suppose the Angar-Ryllans would still be interested in stopping some outside invaders stepping on their turf, though half their fleet is at risk of being obliterated by Skallagrim unless Fury stops him.

Problem is, Fury doesn't really give a shit about the fleet.

The Multiverse doesn't really have many of the high powered individuals required to fight the sort of character's Seed has. I only have two characters in that ultra-high range, one is too powerful and the other would consider the invasion little more than a side-note in his personal struggles against the Dreamer race.

I say the Multiverse in regards to 'established' characters, which have taken part in the Multiverse before. I'm sure many of you have personal and very powerful characters, but as LeeRoy's Baron shows, they have no real loyalty to the 'Arena' in the fashion of the 'Multiverse' which is the closest thing to the 'Arena' in IC, as far as I can tell.

Point being, when people invade the 'Arena' the only way they can do so in an 'IC' sense is to invade the Multiverse.

And the Multiverse does not have an abundance of overpowered characters, by necessity of fair-play.

Arena Chat Thread

@Seed I never said it wasn't related to the war, mate. I just said I wasn't on either side.

@LeeRoy

Eh, that does make your position something of a side-note though. If he wants to strike at the -Arena- proper he's going to want to fight people fighting for it.

It does raise an interesting question though, surely at least some of your characters must be on the side of the Arena? But what exactly is the Arena? The Mulitverse? The Nexus? I guess the Multiverse will have to do for a casual explanation, as we don't play one or two characters as ourselves in the Arena but tell the stories of a vast number of individuals (particularly in Nobody's case ;d).

Arena Chat Thread

Rilla is President of the Arena, or rather 'errant' President of the Arena. Him being absent when the Arena is invaded is probably the most Rilla-ist thing that he ever Rilla'd.

Enduwin: Act 1 - The Dark Awaits

Pretty long one, I always like to take some time on first impression posts because they're usually pretty important (IMO) for formulating early character interactions, and serve as something of a baseline for progression in character relationships.

Also, Bakk hates Oliver and is going to throw him into the sea unless someone saves him, because I think someone needs to do it, and it might as well be Bakk.

Enduwin: Act 1 - The Dark Awaits

Bakk eyed each comer with a slightly bleary but hawk like gaze. The animalistic senses his people are born with leapt at each new arrival, sometimes causing his hackles to rise, sometimes releasing a subtle predatory instinct. It was something akin to how a wolf may identify the weakest of the herd for its brethren, or in the other extreme the strongest beast to be avoided. Such a sense was untested and inconclusive, but it could be hard to hide one’s true nature from Bakk. He could almost smell true confidence, and judge a threat accordingly.

Utilizing his questionable gifts as he observed each comer, he made some cursory assessments of their strength and threat, albeit in a somewhat primitive manner. The first, a large human, well equipped and with the bearing of his people’s sword-fighters. Bakk hadn’t faced many human slavers, but he knew them to be one of the most diverse groups in terms of skills and they had a great capacity for war. The sword frightened him. He knew that in fair combat, he had already met his match as he regarded the man quaff great quantities of drink. However, the gluttony of his drinking was also a weakness. Bakk may be hungover from the night before, but he did not drink in excess when there was business at hand. He eyed him coolly as he introduced himself.

“Bakk.” He pointed at himself, in response to his curt introduction, nodding slightly, his jaw jutting. He had only a moment to consider the sort of individuals that were going to be assembled before he was shocked by almost the exact opposite kind of person following Haljon. A little woman of his kind, scarred and under-equipped for any task Bakk could immediately think of. However, though his people did not practice any formal martial arts, it was not unusual for female warriors and unarmed fighters to exist among the Venar. He could sense her confidence in her haughty tones, even if he could not quite follow everything that she said. He did not fear her in the same way he feared Haljon’s sword, he suspected that whatever skills she had developed would come undone against a Venar such as him, but he did not discount her worth. Not yet at any rate. She gave no introduction, so he offered none in return.

The third was not of note to Bakk, he was a large human but he did not carry equipment to be feared. His presence was curious to the large mountain dweller, but he dismissed him for the moment, being more pragmatic in his observations. His introduction wasn’t necessarily one to the group, but Bakk still offered his name to the man, as was the custom of his people when one revealed their name first.

The fourth was unassuming at first, and he was not one familiar to Bakk in his limited forays southward. He did however recognise the bow, a hunter’s weapon, he approved. Some Venar used powerful bone-like short-bows with a poundage beyond that which ordinary men could draw, and so he knew of the weapon’s power. It had its limitations though, Bakk would not test the man’s skill from afar, but he knew that as close as this his death would come easy. His eyes passed over him, satisfied with his conclusions.

The fifth, was the worst. Human, like most, Bakk smelled the fear upon him immediately. Though he was equipped dangerously, and could have earned Bakk’s respect if not fear should he have carried himself like the tall swordsman, there was something false about the man who called himself ‘Sir Oliver.’ Bakk’s instinct for estimating the strength of a creature, born entirely from a survivalist life in the wilds, revealed the spirit of the so called Knight more so than any mannerism could. That, coupled with his flowery and mostly indecipherable speech inspired Bakk’s ire. He looked down on the man, though unless he were to do something directly annoying to the Venar, little would likely come of it. In a slightly more brusque manner than any earlier time (though it would take something of an expert to really tell, as Bakk’s deep resonant voice tended to sound similar to the untrained ear regardless of inflection) he gave his name to the Knight.

Finally, with what seemed to be the entire group assembled, Eolas took them away from the tavern. Bakk was unhappy to be moved about again, particularly into the late morning light, and his heavy plodding steps lacked their usual grace. The Northman was not particularly bothered about what the others thought of him, likely in appearance he resembled little more than hired muscle. He was happy to leave them with that misconception, it would add to the satisfaction when they felt one of his axes protruding from their chest. Provided the party ended in conflict, which in Bakk’s experience was often the case with unscrupulous meetings such as these. They walked a short while to the water’s edge, and narrowly crammed into a row-boat. To say Bakk was unhappy with the situation would be an understatement. Bakk did not like swimming, he was bad at it, and he also did not like drowning. He also disliked being trapped on a boat with a group of strangers. Ultimately, though secrecy may be obtained, the plan had irritated the large Northman. With very little aptitude or skill, but plenty of strength and endurance, he took up an oar and helped row the party into remote waters, muttering in Venar the entire way a number of choice curses for the idiocy of such a plan.

However, he soon changed his tune when the pouch fell into his hands, revealing almost half the sum he required for his personal concerns. His eyes lit up briefly, and desperate greed nearly overwhelmed him. Perhaps Eolas had chosen wisely, if they had been in the forest those around him would be dying as he spoke, two or three of the bags of coins would be all Bakk needed, and the blood of strangers would be a small price to pay for that. However, trapped on a boat with little room to manoeuvre and little ability to swim, betrayal would be suicide. Bakk settled down to listen to the proposition, deciding to bide his time.

He did not show any visible sign of really understanding what the task at hand meant, though he vaguely understood that Eolas meant to steal some precious gem, he couldn’t help but query what sort of robbery required a party such as theirs. Evidently, fighters had been prioritized over sneak thieves, which suggested the robbery was going to be ransack rather than heist, or so Bakk thought in more primitive terms. He remained silent, assuming others would ask relevant questions and feeling unsure of how to articulate himself in the common tongue. However, all that emerged immediately was protest from the so called Knight, protest which served to irritate Bakk.

“Swim then.” Bakk said pointedly, laying one massive hand upon the Knight’s shoulder as he had ended up behind him. It was evident that he meant to push the man into the sea, unless he or someone else spoke pretty quickly on his behalf.

Arena Chat Thread

As of now, the invasion has stalled out. Of course that might change.

@Skallagrim

Disappointing, it's the first one thus far. Maybe we're scarier than I thought.