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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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a rather straightforward, plain card greets you. A blindfolded woman brandishing two swords over both her respective shoulders is positioned straightforward. A crescent moon and night sky cloud above her armored figure.

You feel the last inklings of that strange, emotional bridge begin to close. But ringing through it, reverberating with common purpose is the message, clear as day, “Get outside the city walls.” Red must have already gotten away with the Twins, good.

The soldiers slowly stop murmuring and the commanding officer settles, before all turn to look at you. Their looks are empty, unwavering, and fearless. As if the men before you had changed whole in the moment you drew the card. As the first of them begins to march toward you, the nearest store front by the scene shatters apart. With a Jurassic roar, the Pursuer is on all fours, jagged pieces of metal clutches in its front claws.

Without a slight hesitation, ¾ of the troop turns on a dime and charges the beast. With fearsome battle cries of their own, they attack the demon in valor- unafraid of death or unaware, you can’t tell. The remaining soldiers, nearly 9 total, briskly march towards you. Picking up the shotgun you hobble slightly off-center towards the nearest alley. You have a lead of several meters on the group. As you struggle into the nearest alley, a slow throbbing turns to piercing agony in your leg arm.

The clash of steel on steel behind you is scattered with titanic crashes from the Pursuer. Strange that you don't hear a single cry from the nearly 30 soldiers you saw engage the beast.

At the other end of the wet alley, you see another street alight with greedy flames- spewing from hopefully vacant homes. The walls of the buildings around you look rather flimsy and you see a boarded hole in one section. The walls are haphazard and even enough that you could climb to the roof, albeit difficultly. You don't know how much damage you took from the Pursuer's javelin.
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MUSE SHOTS: 1 (Odin)
AMMO: 7 rounds
Inventory: Saxophone, Kinda-shitty iron sword, ¾ finished bottle o’ Jack, Remington
T1: (Fireball, Entrench, Battering Ram, Icicle, Water Skate, Shackle)
TAROT DECK: 73/78 cards active
Previous Threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=The%20Red%20Lady
Muse Quest Pastebin: http://pastebin.com/u/RedLady

QM Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheRedL4dy

>How bad were you hit?
>Confront the soldiers, they can't be too difficult
>To the next street! To the city walls!
>Into thw nearest building, possibly through the hole in the wall. Buy some time.
>Attempt to climb onto the roof. It could give a vantage point and allow you to avoid most confrontation
>Try to contact the Red Lady
>Cast a spell
>Tarot is always an option, right?
>write in
>>How bad were you hit?
>>Into thw nearest building, possibly through the hole in the wall. Buy some time.
>>Try to contact the Red Lady
OP relocated to local llibrary for free/better wifi.
Give me minute or two, then


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You decide it’s high time to bite the bullet and survey the damage done. Mama didn’t raise no coward, that’s for sure. GOD, this thing hurts. You glance down at the arm and immediately see why.

Part of your hand is gone- only a mangled, bloody edge where your ring and pinky fingers used to be. You try to move the askew middle and pointers to no success. The entirety of your wrist and forearm has been bisected down their middle, looking like more like an unappetizing lump of ground beef from your local supermarket than your arm. Your stomach churns in protest at the sight. This isn’t something you should be feeling in the morning, you should be feeling A LOT of this now. The nerves in your arm were probably damaged if not destroyed outright.

You start to feel weak in the knees as you stumble through a large gap in the boarded up hole-in-the wall. Stumbling into what feels like a dream, suits of armor, grey iron shields, and various armaments encircle the area. Several glass tables are in the middle of the room, red light from the fires outside the storefront windows reflected off of them. Over the shop’s counter are two crossed halbards.

“Red” You physically croak out into the black room.

Nothing responds, but you feel an unfamiliar panic in your head that isn’t yours. Concern flood you, then single minded determination- then the channel goes blank. You hope Red heard you.

>Inspect the weapons shop, grab a weapon
>Cauterize the wound
>Spell time! (What spell)
>Tarot is an option
>Time to start running
>Look for something
>Call for help
>Go back out, do what?
>write in
sorry about that, OP will continue as planned. No more waits
>>Inspect the weapons shop, grab a weapobettervsword or some daggers
>>Cauterize the wound
>Time to start running
>Look for something
Bottles with "Healing potions" on the label
>Cauterize the wound
>Keep running.
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Rolled 1 (1d20)

>Cauterize the wound

Well, time be a man. This thing is going to bleed you dry if you don't plug it soon. Who knew you'd be thankful for military field medicine one day? You prepare a fireball but alter it so slightly- more tractable, more spread, and more fleeting like a dying crackle. Bracing yourself against the nearest table, you swing whatever is left of your arm onto your lap. Using that last ounce of vigor left from your unintended shot of adrenaline, you cast directly onto the end of your arm.

A short burst of flame claps into life ri- AHHHH FUCKFUCKFUCK.

(Spell Learned: Combustion)

>Inspect the weapon shop for: weapons, healing supplies

As your mind reels back from your self-operation and the smell of burning flesh, you stagger to the front desk. If anything here is like back home, there should be a first aid kit. Checking in the desk's shelves, you find a roll of dusty bandages and a small jar of a foul-smelling substance. Thing reeks of icy-hot, mud, and rotting wood.


You take the "medicine" and quickly survey the
room: Glaives, shields, crossbows, rapiers, greatswords, and spears galore.

The worn iron sword you stole taps against your calf as you shift weight from one foot to the other. A few weapons could work, given your current circumstances.

>(Buckler, Hand Crossbow, Rapier,Tomahawk, Tribal Spear, Dartgun, Gladius, Dagger, Cudgel)
>Pick one, or keep the current weapon

>Keep Running
Roll 1d100
Rolled 54 (1d100)


Hope that d20 helps us.
Rolled 76 (1d100)

We already have a shotgun, we good.
Rolled 68 (1d100)

>Gladius. better a short reliable sword than a beat up iron bar for melee.
Oh fuck, Pursuer just pulled out his primary weapon
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Oh, you. That's on a 20, anon
It did
>Gladius and a 76
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You approach the glass case in the center of the store. Inside you see a well-kept, polished gladius with bronze and hide handle. The balanced short sword will without a doubt be handier than the current glorified iron bar in your hands-not to mention lighter. You were starting to get tired from running around, you’d be wheezing throwing that shitty sword arm at people.

With a swing and a shatter, the piece-o-shit sword you stole off the drunk serves its last purpose and the new weapon is yours.
(Acquired: Gladius
Discarded: That kinda shitty sword)

You start a light trot towards the front door as you apply the straight-offensively smelling substance on your charred…arm? At least the stump ain’t bleeding now. Bandaging up and you exit, you observe the milieu before you and immediately notice the fight between the Pursuer and the soldiers has taken an unexpected turn.

Two corpses lie on the ground, impaled by whatever jagged sheets of metal the Demon had used for makeshift daggers. Strangely, it looks as though they’re embracing the deadly weapons tightly in a bear hug, clutching for dear life even in death. The Pursuer is still on all fours, roaring mindless in berserk rage at the dozen bodies climbing on and about it with impunity. The remaining half of the corps you outstripped lie strewn about the ground, unarmed. It’s then you notice various objects sticking out of the Beast at its joints. You take a look at the nearest one, flung to an unquestioning death amid the slowing rains. The same look as you saw prior is still etched in his glassy eyes- unquestioning, unafraid, and stagnant.
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Rolled 12, 10 = 22 (2d20)

>76 (First degree Success)
You hear a clattering behind you just in time and dive out of the way. A red-ironed body sails past where your hips would have been moments prior, the failed tackle leaving him scrambling in the muddy streets. You loose a quick fireball into the remnants of the weapon store, dry wood inside catching ablaze; illuminated shapes of men approaching.

You see the wall clearly in the distance, despite your heavy eyelids. You feel a slight vibration from your pocket. GOTTA GO FAST

Rolled 3 (1d20)

Rolled 5 (1d20)

Rolled 4 (1d20)

dice be a lady tonight.
Guys I think I found out about something
Alright, the three legendary birds are
They spell out MOZART.
Now, Mozart played music, right? And what does Pokemon have in it? Music.
But wait, this is where it gets complicated.
The first Pokemon game, was named Red. This is suspicious, but proves nothing. Yet.
But another game was named, FireRed. What are we great at? Fire. What's Red's full name? The Red Lady. What could you do in Pokemon FireRED? Play as a LADY
And finally, the Red Lady said
>But you already know my name.
Everybody knows Mozart's name.
Could the Red Lady be Mozart, still alive?
>These rolls
Rolled 19 (1d20)

bruh you fucking saved us.
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>This post
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sorry bud, close but first 3

Also, I feel like crying. Finally found a place with reliable, not shitty wifi. Posts are going to be pumped out in 15 mins or less from here on out.

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Wait, the hell?
Why is the Tarot Deck vibrating?
You reach for the pocket and the humming sensation stops. You draw the first cards without looking as you still push through the marathon you’ve been continuously running. Briefly glancing down, you notice something strange and do a double-take. Greeting your eyes is…nothing. The Blank Card is pinched in your fingers.

>It seems you’ve found the sigil once again, old friend
>Come then, change what you have chosen before
>I will wait at that place where it began

The previous vibrations begin anew in the blank card. What the hell is this? Red never mentioned that. The card then begins to pulse, before a sudden flash blinds you, the card itself seeming igniting in crimson aura. When your sight returns you notice the world around you has an off-white tint to it. Yet, you see it clear as day hovering in the sky just beyond the wall. Shimmering in ruby luster is an ancient glyph of light, encompassing runes seemingly exalting in speech foreign to your eyes.

The Pursuer maims the still air with an ear-splitting cry and it begins slamming into surrounding buildings in desperation, trying (and succeeding) in killing those hypnotized beings crawling about its body. You can feel the stare of the monster on your back as you gain distance; the Pursuer’s enmity directed at your unintentional success in swaying these men against it.
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Sprinting the last few dozen meters between you and the wall with complete abandon, you begin to notice the size of the thing. The nearly 8 stories stonework erected before you has cracks and dents. Yet, the worst damage you can see it along its length to your right. The barricade is marred by unrepairable chasm to its stony face. The walls have been torn down and in the rubble you see amassed and marching several platoons of the iron-plated men into the city. On an elevated platform of stone remnant stands a single soldier clad in black-iron armor from head to toe. Men passing through the wrecked gates salute in the person’s direction as they pass before marching toward their respective assignments.

>5 (Yeah, that is a failure)
The Black Knight spots you standing motionless watching the armies. You can see the figure vaguely motion in your direction to the nearest passing regiment. The small squad turns and begins to charge, spears and swords brandished- nearly 8 total.
You hear clanking behind you. Dammit! The group from earlier is still following like a pack of hunting dogs!

>Run away? There is an empty street behind you
>Spells on spells
>Muse Shot
>This...is my BOOMSTICK
>Try to summon the pursuer????
>Write in encouraged
>>Spells on spells
>This...is my BOOMSTICK
Whatchu casting boy

>Roll 1d100 for shotgun power hour
Rolled 56 (1d100)

Rolled 9 (1d100)

Rolled 16 (1d100)

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Fire: Fireball, Combustion
Water: Icicle, Water Skate
Wood: ----
Wind: -----
Earth: -----
Steel: Battering Ram, Shackle, Entrench
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>writing shotty
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>56 (Versus a 35, First Degree Success)
Well, an entire mob of armed men are running towards you. There are several bullets for the gun. This is going to be a bit too dicey for your ass. This is target shooting from hell. You can’t remember the last time you confronted this many people at once- not in the job description.
At least, not anymore.

Man, fuck Wednesdays.

The last thought finishing up, you prep a fireball in your left ha-
Shit, there is no “left hand” anymore.

Man, FUCK Wednesdays.

With a snap, the still-warm shotgun shell encasing its beacon of light is removed. The brief contact reminding you of the golden muse, Odin. Pushing aside the mental commentary, you shove three slugs in the Remington and rail it.
The clattering of the approaching warriors is the only sound in the air.

Smoke and Ember explode out the barrel of the cannon in your hands. From a not-so-far distance, you see one of the soldiers in red-iron plate immediately stop and jerk back in an ungainly fall- collapsing into several of his comrades behind him. A sizable stamp of impact visible as a hole in his plate mail.

One down- the other men slow and gather ranks. The noise of the marching pack pursuing you grows louder.

>Spells (which)
>Muse Shot
>Run and Gun?
>Attack with gladius
>Fuck that, attack the Black Knight (Gun, Spell, etc)
>Write in
>>Run and Gun?
Rolled 20 (1d20)

Rolled 13 (1d20)

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You continue your barrage, dealing another two death shots to the crowds. Pausing to reload, the soldiers hasten their advance despite the evident fear of your unknown weapon. They’re getting closer and you can now both hear and see your former pursuers along the not-so-distant muddy streets. Shit, you don’t have the ammo for this.

Running from pile of rubble to pile of rubble, dodging, sprinting, and twisting to get a good shot you manage to both reload and fire off another shell before the rain stops and a shadow looms large in the open area where your battle is occurring.

The Pursuer does not cease.
It will follow to the ends of the earth, and beyond.
It has your scent.
Creating a small crater in its meteoric entrance, the Pursuer wields a large great axe fit for the creature’s monstrous build.

Your deck vibrates once more as the chaotic fight continues wreaking havoc on the city. As you draw the card you know to already be waiting, you see another red-armored soldier mirror your movements. He’s of sturdy build and wearing an iron mask rather than the standard helmet you’ve seen on the mooks.

Reaching into his breastplate, out comes…..

An ancient tarot deck of yellowed, layered vellum.

You watch as he briskly draws the top card and places the deck back. He flourishes the card in one hand and crouches to grasp the earth with his other. You find yourself mimicking the exact same movements. Pillar-like trees of gnarled bark and wood sprout from the ground without warning, making a Stonehenge like circle of interconnected trees around the Demon.

The Pursuer snaps to the masked one with rapt attention, raising its axe for a deathblow.
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“Exorcism, BEGONE!” You and the other cry simultaneously. Wooden spears jot from the cage of trees, piercing Pursuer’s hide. Before it can even bellow, a pillar of green light erupts from within the confines of its incarceration, bathing the scenery in emerald glory. When it stops, there remains nothing but branches and dead leaves in a vague shape of a circle.

The Pursuer is nowhere in sight. Bodies like either rent apart by otherworldly weaponry or by firearm...

and in the distance, you hear the discordant rapping; the Black Knight is clapping.

End Thread 5 (and 5.5)

Discussion Time!

Any questions/insults/suggestions/feedback for QM.

Other than get internet connection shit figured out
>Reaching into his breastplate, out comes…..An ancient tarot deck of yellowed, layered vellum.
Masked warrior is a tarot mage? Did he pull a 6 of seals?
We just ran into our past self? The black knight is Tenebrous isn't he?
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You drew a blank card. He drew a blank card.

Red never had a blank card when she used the tarot deck.

Piece what you will

Stay tuuuuned
Damn red, Aside from the Black Knight, your performance doubled the audience. Nice twist too.
That was from the confirmed nat 20 right? Cause that was an epic way to end the Pursuer chase.

Sorry to leave you guys in the dark about these rolls. They all have a purpose...but suspense and all that jazz tends to be pretty fun.

Also needed to showcase Wood spells,since it seems like you guys just want to power through Fire and Steel. This was the perfect opportunity

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