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All I’ve seen is Pokémon fans losing their minds over the little gay kid with the worst hair design I’ve seen in my life
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Everybody I see complaining that this site is dead has like 3 IC posts total. My brother in mahz you pulled the trigger
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Y’all act like this site is a broken mess when it’s still better designed than any government website I’ve ever seen


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1. No, I knew next to nothing about the previous two games going in and didn’t have any problems. Aside from like three returning characters who show up later in the game and some tidbits related to them that’re really only relevant to the Dark Urge origin, I don’t think the games even have much crossover.

2. It does a pretty good job of explaining the mechanics, I think. Most tooltips are very comprehensive and 5e (the dnd edition the game is based on) is the most newcomer friendly edition of dnd anyway in my opinion. Couple that with the fact that they changed quite a few things mechanically between the tabletop and the game, and prior system knowledge matters even less.

3. You shouldn’t. The game is pretty big at 100+ gb though so good luck with that download.

Whatever amount of coziness the cottage might've inspired was lost on Quinn as he trudged his way inside. In a better state of mind, he probably would've found the absurdity of the situation amusing, but right now, it just made him uncomfortable. Strange people he didn't know, some cryptic old woman that looked at him like she'd seen a Contarini before, a complete and utter lack of concern for the people he'd almost died to bail out of an imperial prison; nothing about this safehouse felt safe.

Despite his weariness, he startled a bit as the life mage greeted them inside. The positivity was a whiplash from the way the commander had greeted them, and he'd even bothered to be the first to congratulate them. The food on the stove didn't sound any more appealing now that Quinn beheld it for himself, but the smell in the air gave him hope his appetite would return soon, lest he have to force down the food out of sheer necessity. Of course, the moment was ruined as soon as the reality of the situation returned. Right, a debriefing. He'd hardly have a chance to catch his breath before they'd be ruthlessly evaluated on every catastrophe that happened inside the walls of that detestible prison. Quinn should've expected it, he knew well that breaks were a reward for exemplary performance and he was simply not satisfactory back there.

Of course, it could've been worse. Quinn bitterly wondered if he'd be in the same position as the prisoner on the ground had the inquisitor actually managed to wound him. They seemed to think he was already dead, but they could've at least bothered to check first with precious seconds potentially ticking by. Last rites, what a joke; a few words over a corpse wasn't a consolation, he was already dead. If they weren't going to try and save his life, they least they could do is throw him away without the hypocrisy.

Quinn hesitantly collapsed into a chair at the table for lack of a more comfortable place to sit. The living room sounded inviting, but the mind mage had evidently commandeered it to evaluate the prisoner and that poor man had likely been through enough without Quinn gawking at him during the invasion of his brain, even if Quinn himself would likely not even be lucid for it.

"I'm fine. Not hurt," he repeated for the life mage's benefit as he gripped the side of the table in an attempt to still the trembling of his hands, "Focus on someone more important than me."

Ceolfric had no idea what Cerric meant by that last bit, though it had him marginally curious. The favored of his own god weren't what he'd consider pleasant, but that was to be expected; it would be interesting to see how Melanar's measured up. Especially since he doubted a dull Buscanian blade posed any more of a threat to Cerric than a feathered pillow.

The two drunks certainly didn't fall in that category, at any rate. The safer option would be to simply kill them, but they didn't have anything of value on them, and that made it more hassle than it was worth, especially since these two didn't look to be capable of any sort of retaliation that mattered. Whatever small time pilfering they got up to on their own time simply wasn't Ceolfric's problem, so long as it didn't involve that stupid cart.

There were a lot less variables in mercenary work than he expected, honestly.

"Fine, go." Ceolfric waved the man along with the flat of his blade. "I'll hold you to that last part. If your word proves less than binding, remember that I know your face, Kanithson." This miscreant will be drunkenly gossiping about this encounter the first chance he got, and if someone capable overheard, they could potentially end up with a problem on their hands. Thankfully, he didn't think Jar had gotten a look at their cargo, so they didn't make the most enticing target as it stood.

Does this still have room? Might make a funnel mech if so

Rebellion princess, that was rich. Ryner was probably turning in whatever box the empress kept her in right about now. The girl certainly did jump into action, didn't she? Then again, he'd never known a fire mage to be shy, so he shouldn't have expected her to be a coddled moron once he'd gotten a whiff of her affinity. Though, Chad wasn't quite sure if that was what Donovan meant; he could've easily been commenting on the fact that she was evidently competent enough to trade blows with an inquisitor and not end up fried to a crisp. Her leadership skills certainly left a bit to be desired, in any case.

The purple one, on the other hand, was... quaint. Just interesting enough to note, but not noteworthy enough to interest him. Gravity magic was rare enough that he rarely considered its existence outside the context of the Grand Inquisitrix, but they all had the same gimmicks at the end of the day. The only surprise there was that little Quincy managed to refrain from wetting himself.

"Oh, you know how fire mages are," Chad offered with a dismissive flick of his wrist, "They burn bright, they burn fast, and then they either rein in their ego or they burn out. Still not sure which one our little firebird is yet, but I doubt Mommy Dearest would let her out of the castle without a hefty lecture on safety." Hopefully he wouldn't still be on babysitting duty if it becomes the latter; that'd be an earful, though it might make an interesting story when he slunk back to the empire.

"Can't say I've ever owned a gravity mage before, though I've certainly seen their tricks a few times. He's creative enough, I guess, but are they all that meek?" Maybe Caeli used him as a pack mule or something.

@Bert Macklin

Chad steeled himself for one last attempt at thwarting their escape, but it never came. Not that it particularly mattered; the imperials had broken formation and would've been easy pickings should they engage the rebels again outside, and without even a perimeter patrol to intercept them, they'd be well on their way back to Caeli before those fools managed to punch through the obstruction blocking the door. Assuming the commander didn't keel over first, anyway.

It was a wonder how the empire was winning at all if this was what they considered viable security.

The vampire still had his doubts as the teleportation spell spun itself around them, but at least it felt relatively normal once the chill set in and it was far too late for any doubts anyway. Thankfully, he popped back into existence from the void he'd been momentarily banished to none the worse for wear, though he couldn't say the same for the commander. How many jumps like that did the fragile little creature have left in him? Hopefully he'd know when to quit; that'd be an anticlimactic way to die if Agreve messed up when it counted.

The man was as insufferable as ever once he started talking, but was almost cute to see him posture even as he had to be held up by another mage. Tempting as it was to rile him up a bit, Chad had the feeling the commander would end up the moody sulking kind of mad. And after the travesty of a dinner he'd just had, some proper sustenance would be welcome regardless of whether it had been offered by one who 'didn't fuckin' know and didn't fuckin' care'. How delightfully droll.

The Eve had apparently wrested his eyes off of Dionne's girl long enough to note the other members of their little band - or he'd otherwise grown bored of her now that they were out of the line of fire - but Chad had to admit he'd forgotten about the new little mortal that had caught Donovan's attention. Honestly, he was surprised that one was still breathing; Chad had written him off the moment they stepped into the room. Rescuing him still when everything went to shit was certainly a gamble. Though, mages were sentimental like that, he supposed.

Chad let out a contemplative hum as he glanced over the assortment of little injuries he'd collected that had hadn't taken stock of before. "Not sure. I doubt he'll be of any use in the future if he does pull through, granted, but mortals can be hardy little things when they want to be." There was a temptation to prod at the body with his foot, but he dutifully resisted it. "Of course, their lack of any real ability to regenerate makes it look more like petulant stubbornness than tenacity, but... maybe he'll get lucky and enjoy a miserable little existence drooling all over himself."

@Bert Macklin

With the extraction point in sight, Quinn couldn't help but be relieved he at least had tangible orders to fall back on now - it felt like the entire operation had been a string of him being tugged in every direction at once. Watch the door, Quinn. Handle the reinforcements, Quinn. Rescue the prisoner, Quinn. Pick me up, Quinn. Get everyone outside, Quinn. Let the crazy man electrocute you for the greater good, Quinn. It wasn't a new experience for the mage, but it was the first where he needed to react in milliseconds rather than minutes and the consequence of failure was death rather than shame.

Quinn's pupils blew wide as he broke from the building into the night, eyes adapting to the darkness preternaturally quick as the door behind him slammed shut to cut off the light from inside. A horrible grinding noise drew his attention back briefly, in expectation of one less threat to bar him from escape, but he saw only the door's frame writhing against itself to seal off the path they'd come from. He wasn't sure who did it, and at this point, he didn't care; he simply drew Dylan close and tugged his weightless arms around his neck to carry the unconscious mage like a cape on his back as he kept up his retreat. He didn't dare stop moving until forest coiled around him and even magical vision pushed to its limit couldn't pierce the shadow that held them in its cold embrace.

And then it was gone, and he was getting more orders.

Just drop him on the ground? Just like that? Quinn couldn't say he'd been particularly gentle with the prisoners beforehand himself, but without the threat of magical retribution hanging over his head, he'd expected a bit more dignity would be warranted. It was almost an insult to all the trouble they went through to get him out of there. Freedom for mages, what a joke; he was less disposable back home.

Delicately, he lowered Dylan onto the ground and propped the mage's arm underneath his head. Shouldn't the prisoners have been the life mage's first priority? Quinn finally took the opportunity to look around. Everyone was accounted for, fortunately, and nobody seemed to be bleeding out. The vampires looked a little worse for wear, but they carried themselves with all the tenacity he'd expect of a noble hunter of the night and the life mages wouldn't be able to fix that anyway. Quinn himself was a bit battered, and he suspected the other mages faired much the same, but soreness and bruises could be managed with rest. They didn't need to make it sound like they'd done him a favor by involving a life mage in this operation.

Food didn't sound very appetizing either. He knew he should eat, that he was exhausted and that he'd regret it the following morning, but even something as inoffensive as stew turned his stomach when he thought about it. Quinn gulped down the saliva pooling in his throat. He'd throw up if he thought about this too much.

"Look at the prisoners first, 'm not hurt. Need to sit down," Quinn mumbled in an attempt to ward off any unneeded attention as he staggered toward the cottage. Every moment out of danger made his body feel heavier, as whatever panic chemicals had flooded his body moments ago now exacted a toll for their services. He had a feeling that a glance into a mirror right about now would reveal the pale, disheveled Quintus he'd grown used to over the past few months. Once again, just like home. But worse. Was their silly little grudge against vampirekind really worth this?

Chad couldn't help but sneer as the remaining vampire routed in record time. Not that he was fond of leaving witnesses, but one less body in between him and his meal was certainly nothing to complain about. He hoisted his previous victim's body upward into the path of the thrown weapon as a makeshift shield - what's one more hole in him, eh? - and then, after ripping his own weapon free, unceremoniously dropped his prey and turned his attention to the next hunt. The sudden onslaught of spells put him on the defensive immediately, though before Chad could take any evasive action, a wall sprung up in his path to soak the blows.

Yet another obstacle to his meal, and now they were making their escape. How anticlimactic. A hiss of annoyance escaped his fanged maw as Chad opted to retreat toward the exit rather than take his chances with the fireball-strewn hallway.

"How long will this exit take?" Chad questioned as he eyed the commander beyond the threshold of the door. He was unfamiliar with the man, but he knew his usefulness neared its end and he certainly wasn't going to be the victim of some dissonant portal failure. "They'll take another defensive position at the doorway and blast us to bits if we let them." Well, he could just drag them on a wild goose chase through the forest, but that sounded very annoying, and he'd had his fill of annoyance for the day. Twicefold. The enclosed space they were in was as much hinderance as help - the mages couldn't run away, but they also had the ability to set up staunch battle lines with only limited directions for the rebels to approach them from. Out in the woods, they'd at least have the opportunity to divide and conquer.

Quinn drew his gaze away from his blue-haired compatriot as that idiot jammed another blade into the inquisitor. Just as he'd feared, the other mage had ended up in much the same position as Count Eve, but without the vampiric resilience to accompany it. To think he'd almost died for someone that tried to throw his own life away minutes later. He dared not peek, even after the light show had died down and the crackle in the air had ceased and been replaced with the thunderous eruption of spells from the other end of the room. At least until Lyra yelled at him.

Which one was Dylan again? Was that the one that stabbed the inquisitor? Or... no, that was the dead one - no, the girl died, girls weren't named Dylan. What was the girl's name? Mary? No, Marie. She didn't matter. Well, she did matter, but she was gone - or was she? Did anyone check? No, Dylan. Which one was- this wasn't the time. The room was spinning. He was spinning. Quinn quickly righted himself in midair after he'd begun to lull to the side. Something struck a barrier. It wouldn't hold forever. Did he have a shield up? No, that had to be Lyr- Dylan, right! But then what about the other prisoner?

Whatever. Let the medics sort them out.

Quinn's feet found purchase on the ground again and he immediately pushed both hands together, his fingers curling into claws as spacetime deformed like putty in his grasp. The breeze from the outside that filled the room gradually changed course, the air streams now converged on a rippling confluence that spiraled to life over Roan's head. The pull soon grew to extend beyond mere air; Hasgad's lifeless body shifted from where it sat on the floor, a bloodsoaked trail smeared behind it as it slid toward the expanding gravity well. Roan - and Donovan, should he lack the strength or desire to resist - would likewise find themselves being tugged between the ground and the oscillation that fluttered above them, pulling them ever-so-gradually upward into its hungry maw.

Before they could reach it, Quinn shifted his weight back and threw his arms aside to send the confluence hurtling over the other prisoner on its path toward the exit, along with all caught in its orbit. "Grab onto something!" he warned, barely giving the other rebels by the door a chance to comply. Chains rattled and half-melted pieces of ice from spells that had shattered against Lyra's barrier took to the air, unintended victims of the gravity well's passing as it picked up a train of corpses and rebels alike. It was a grotesque and potentially dangerous procession with the veritable asteroid belt of debris that was on its way to forming as Quinn's singularity crossed the room, but it served its purpose of dragging everyone out.

Just as the mages by the exit would find their clothes and hair sucked upward into the encroaching spell and their feet threatened to leave the ground entirely, the well dissipated and all in its wake slumped unceremoniously back to the floor as Quinn rushed to follow. "Sorrysorrysorry! Just keep moving," he bumbled as he neared for lack of a cushier landing. One by one, the trash was sorted from the treasure, and Dylan was plucked from the mound of dead imperials to be sent weightlessly floating out the door.

@Everybody, get black holed losers

Ceolfric's brow lazily canted upward as his siren song took hold of the man's mind and ripped his secrets from his lips. Hardly something to hide. Why, if this 'Jar' hadn't followed up with that last part, Ceolfric might've even called his work noble - these woods certainly needed safe havens, what with the undead and demons and gods know what else skulking about. Still, he was no stranger to the disenfranchised who mouthed along to praises of a higher power solely for the earthly rewards they could scavenge from the congregation. They served their purpose well enough, at least when the purpose was to pillage and slaughter. He doubted they fared as well when calling forth blessings from on high, unless Melanar or whatever other woeful deity that protects them was especially generous.

"Seems an odd vocation to hide. This forest needs all the blessings it can get," the bandit commented flatly. Maybe this idiot saw the danger in claiming holy purpose in the name of a god he didn't truly honor, but otherwise it definitely felt like something wasn't being said.

His train of thought was promptly derailed by Cerric's blunder into the midst of the situation, though Ceolfric could hardly lament their loss of subtlety now that he was firmly in control of the interaction. He might've even welcomed Cerric's input, were it not a condition of their assignment that the elf deliberately be as unhelpful as possible while he evaluated them. Still, didn't hurt to try.

"Seems like a misunderstanding. Don't suppose you're versed in the local wilderness cults, are you, Mister Liadon?" Ceolfric asked as his head lulled in the vague direction of the man's voice, "I'd hate for this little altercation to lead to trouble down the road." He left out the 'or I'll march into their little meadow and consecrate it in something far less pleasant than incense' that he'd wanted to tack on, unsure if Kanithson was even lucid enough to heed threats at the moment anyway.

Were he a charitable man, Ceolfric might've blamed the booze for the horrible logic that constituted the man's reasoning. He thought to evade some skulking monster and its hordes of undead by scurrying through the bushes in the dead of night? While inebriated, at that. He certainly believed that they didn't realize anyone was around, at least. Maybe he intended to use his pudgy companion as fodder should the beast happen upon them, but that didn't explain Giles' alleged 'scheme'.

The kid popped out of fucking nowhere and rummaged through their bag, and Ceolfric did his best to not gawk at him incredulously, lest he give him away prematurely. Honestly, if he wanted whatever valuables they had stashed away, he should've just demanded it. No need to scurry about like some cutpurse urchin. Unsurprisingly, Ermes deduced they had nothing of valu- no, that was an investigation, not a robbery. How droll.

"It's all in the fat one's gut, if I had to guess," Ceolfric commented dryly as he lowered his sword. If this guy felt like getting antsy, Ceolfric would have ample time to bring his weapon back up and kill the man while he kicked Ermes in the head or something. Odd that they didn't even have a flask on them, but hardly damning. This entire situation was just mundane enough to ignore but just odd enough to be trouble.

"Then again, I don't like to guess when I can know." Every second wasted on these buffoons was a second not spent sleeping. What was his next move? Threaten to start prying off fingernails until this guy vomits out a motive that might not even concern Ceolfric in the slightest? He'd be here all night and probably risk retaliation from their nebulous conclave besides. Not that he feared the connections of a few drunkards, but it was still a bit early to be collecting enemies.

The bandit's eyes regarded the man disdainfully even as sickly sweet aether danced over his tongue. Whatever excuse this old fool had for the boy didn't matter; he'd given them courtesy enough. "Fine, we'll dispense with the violence," Ceolfric spoke, his words heavy with sorcerous power - an immaterial temptation that muddled minds and lowered inhibitions as surely as any physical intoxicant. "Tell me your real intentions. Who you are, where you're going, and what you intend to do once you're there." He punctuated his command with a resounding snap of his fingers, as if to illustrate his desire for expedience.

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