>>1086281
>Augustine Thompson; voluntary enrollment. Required as per grandfather's will. Motto: A pleasure to burn.

>>1086281
>Gulf Bromsson

>>1086281
>>Tiresias Deepstone; protective enrollment. Unsupervised contact with a demonic entity. Motto: To sleep, perchance to dream.

Lets go demons bois.

>>1086445
>>Augustine Thompson; voluntary enrollment. Required as per grandfather's will. Motto: A pleasure to burn.


Seconding I guess.

>>1086492
Did you miss reply?

>>1086445

Going with Demons is always the smart choice.

>>1086281
>Augustine Thompson; voluntary enrollment. Required as per grandfather's will. Motto: A pleasure to burn.

>>1086492
Your vote will be disregarded if you do not clarify before the numbers are called. Sorry.

>Vulf Bromsson; charitable enrollment. Desire to attain a certificate of Artifice. Motto: For this is the law of the jungle.

>>1086556
Apologies it's Augustine I want

Calling votes in favor of Augustine Thompson; full time heiress, part time pyromaniac.

>>1086634
Is there such a thing as too many demons?

"Augustine Thompson," you begin, "voluntary enrollment. Required as per-"
"'As per the will of your grandfather, the deceased Montgomery Thompson. Here's your uniform," the clerk interrupts, shoving a bundle of clothing into your arms, "this is your class schedule, map is on the reverse, and this is the key to your room. Next." He moved much too quickly to be undead. At least something about this place has class, then. It certainly isn't the decor. Black stone flows from the floor, molding itself into sconces and desks, parting around ornate windows that are invariably set too high to see out of. It reminds of nothing so much as a prison. And the gall of that man! Any servant who had talked to you like that back at the estate would have been lashed on the spot, regardless of seniority. To think of it! He knew of your identity, and he still treated you in such a manner. Certainly, you didn't expect preferential treatment from your instructors, but a modicum of respect isn't too much to hope for, is it? You hope not. It will be an excruciatingly long three years, if that is the case.
Joints invigorated with the relief of movement, you make your way towards your dorm as best you can, following the map that the probably-not-a-cadaver thrust upon you. Some of the labeling certainly is strange. What is a "Convergence Portal?" And what use would a school have for a "Demonic Holding Facility?" The degeneration of your classmates is evident, but you would never have guessed its extent was that extreme. Here and there, the signs of corruption made themselves evident. Reptilian eyes blinking from otherwise normal- if somewhat more fatigued than average- faces. Small, knobby horns, poorly concealed (or, in one ostentatious display, painted a brilliant gold) by flimsy caps or the hood of the white cloak that comprises part of your uniform. You've seen a single tail, and perhaps one or two voices that have been singed by brimstone, but nothing overly concerning. No apparitions or blatant possessions, as of yet. Still, you keep one hand unburdened, ready to plunge into your bag at a moment's notice. After two wrong turns and one dead end, you finally open the door to your room. A simple oaken door with your name branded into it marks its location, near identical to any other of the fifty rooms on your floor. The austere copper knob creaks as it twists, and the room the now-open door reveals appears austere in the precious little light that seeps in from the hallway. You spend more than a few moments patting along the wall for a light switch, your feet unconsciously preparing themselves to jump backwards while you search. A few seconds more and you find it, the single crystal in the ceiling flaring to life. Three cautious steps bring you into the room, the door closing behind you with an incongruously soft click.
>Cont.

>>1086770
Before you is a bed, a desk, and what appears to be a closet that is set into one wall. Throwing open drapes heavy with dust, crimson rays stream into the room, accentuating the otherwise ascetic scene, cast by the sun setting over the Academy’s western battlement. So this is home. Lodgings fit for a monk, to be sure, but nothing blatantly offensive. Quickly you withdraw your sheathed rapier from your backpack, the walnut gleaming against the plain woolen blanket. A gift from your grandfather, and a useful one at that. Supposedly it's sanctified by a priest of The Patriarch, lending its tip special powers against the undead and unholy. In truth, you've never had reason to sheathe it, except in your few live-steel practices. Turning from the bed you empty your overburdened pack into your closet, something that involves no small degree of difficulty. Next you change into the simple garb that marks you as a first-year student. A white cloak, currently unadorned with a mark of office. A simple black ensemble underneath serves to add a utilitarian aspect to the getup, while light boots promise mild discomfort any time of the year. With a sigh you look down at your schedule, trying to decide how much time before you can spend here before you head to your first class.
Select your first class:
>Elementalism
>Divination
>Pact-Creation
>Kinemantics

Would you like to take the sword?
>Take the sword, as a precautionary measure.
>Leave the sword-- what do you have to be afraid of?

>>1086773
>Divination
>Take the sword, as a precautionary measure.

>>1086773
>>Elementalism
>Take the sword, as a precautionary measure.

>>1086773
>divination
>take the rapier, to see if it really is blessed

>>1086784
This

>>1086773
>Pact-Creation
>Leave the Sword

>female mc
just when I thought I found a good quest to follow

>>1087038
I thought it would a boy since Augustine is a male Saint name.

File: Augustine.png (4.41 MB, 2481x3507)

4.41 MB PNG

Votes called in favor of Divination and going in armed. Writing.
Have a character sheet.
>>1087038
Oh come on- stick around for a bit. It won't be as bad as you think.

>>1087045
Augustine isn't even a girls name, you pulled a fast one on us m8

>>1087045
Were vulf and tiresias also girls?

>>1087045
You'd have been better off avoiding gender entirely with something like this, maybe have us play a skin snatcher or something similar given the magic inspiration, otherwise gender should be clearly stated so the player base know what they're getting themselves into (picking a female gender ostracises a lot of the male player base who can't self identify with the mc), also unless this a oneshot or you don't plan on running more than a few sessions you'll want a twitter handle, other than that good luck with your quest

>>1087070
>ostracises a lot of the male player base who can't self identify with the mc
That's such a lame reason to not follow a quest. All I want is just a good quest.

>>1087067
Nyet, both male.
>>1087054
My bad, and if I ever do another quest I'll take that into account, but honestly I'm fairly shit at writing different genders differently. The name plays into her backstory (father wants a boy, gets a girl, decides to name her like a boy anyway.) If you lot want to have another go with a different character, I'd be willing to do that.

>Allura, F.
>Vulf, M.
>Tiresias, M.
>Morrigan, M.
>Augustine, F.

>>1087077
>Morrigan, M

>>1087077
>Morrigan being a male name
>Despite being the name of both a succubuss and Celtic death goddess

>Tiresias have a definitive gnder despite being a man/woman in greek mythos.


Oy that was a great misleading.

That said fine as Augustine.

>>1087077
Leave it as. There's no need to change.

>>1087077
>Morrigan, M.

>morrigan is male
shit nigger what are you doing

>>1087077
Expect hiccups if this is your first quest and a retcon in the first session isn't anything major, just try not to get disheartened by the response you get especially when you're just starting out

Continuing to post as Augustine until a consensus is reached.

Gained PARANOIA: +1 to combat and perception rolls, -1 to all contested social rolls.
With a smirk, you strap on the sword. That ought to send a message to the demon-consorting rabble. The weight is comfortable on your hip, balancing the heft of your spellbook. It also does wonders to take in the cloak, which otherwise has a tendency to billow around you like the sail of a galleon. There are lots of things about ships that make them worthy of emulation. In your opinion, their bulk is not one of them.
Divination isn't the most interesting of classes, but it can be one of the most useful. Sure there might be a lot of consulting star charts and taking stock of various omens, but in the end you're predicting the future. The trouble is, it seems like you'll need some knowledge of divination to even find the class. Unlike the rest of your classes, which are labeled by floor, cardinal direction, room number, and, oddly, distance from the nearest rookery, divination is accompanied only with a location- fifth floor, Eastern Courtyard. Except there doesn't seem to -be- an Eastern Courtyard. You wander the halls, scrutinizing the map the entire way. Cloaks in a variety of colors swish past you, some adorned with a dozen emblems, others just as bare as your own. At one point, something that you think might be a golem stomps past you, runes glittering on its slate exterior. A flash of human skin reassures you that it's merely being worn- probably- and you continue on your way. Now in the eastern section of the building, you find yourself stopped at three pillars, halted by an overheard conversation.
"What do you mean this is the courtyard? I don't see a courtyard anywhere!" The voice is stentorian and agitated, oddly loud given the slight frame of its owner.
"Well. The pillar does have 'Eastern Courtyard' stamped on it. Perhaps it needs to be activated." His companion (or maybe opponent) shrugs, nonchalance all but rolling off of him in waves. Slumped against a statue that looks ancient even in relation to his surroundings, it's difficult to tell if he's feigning apathy or if it's an integral part of his being.
Select one course of action:
>Interject, see if you can't help each other out.
>Walk up to the pillar in question yourself. Surely it can't be that difficult.
>Walk away. The pillar obviously can't be what you're looking for.
>Hang around, wait to see if they figure it out.

>>1087130
>>Walk up to the pillar in question yourself. Surely it can't be that difficult.

>>1087130
>Walk up to the pillar in question yourself. Surely it can't be that difficult.
I mean this in the most positive and constructive way possible but your text formatting is giving me eye cancer. You gotta space out them paragraphs mang

>>1087130
>Walk up to the pillar in question yourself. Surely it can't be that difficult.

Called for attempting to fix it yourself. Writing.

Folding away your schedule, you stride towards the largest of the three pillars. Sure enough, carved into it just above head are the words 'Eastern Courtyard.' With a sigh you begin searching for a cleverly disguised rune. Perhaps it's a hidden portal, or maybe some sort of camouflage. It can't actually be just a pillar.

"Yeah, good luck with that. We can't make 'eads nor tails of it either." The sincere interest in the tone means it has to be the short one. Glasses clink together as he walks, undoubtedly carried in the leather sack he's slung over one shoulder.

"Ease off, Jeremy. Let the broad search in peace." And there's his friend, apparently taking whatever amusement he can from watching you scour the pillar. With a roll of your eyes you get back to work, channeling just the slightest bit of magic into the abnormally cool stone. With all of the ambient magic, it's hard to tell what's been wrought into the stone and what's simply residue that was leftover from a spell cast by a long-gone student. You were never much good at analyzing the flow of magic. Why bother with where it comes from and what happens to it when you're done with it, as long as it accomplishes what you need it to in the mean time? It's part of why you took to Elementalism so easy. The way the magic flows through you, acting like an extension of your own body. It lacks the finesse of other schools of magic, but you've never been much good with finesse, either. If you were a mage, someone who had to carefully husband their mana, spending it at a prescribed amount each day, then that might be good reason to learn restraint. As a wizard, every dimension in existence could be bent to your purposes, if you had the willpower. If you were willing to accept the risks.

Frustration mounting, you take a step back, eyes raking the full height of the pillar. You'd rather not be late to your first class, but at this rate it might be necessary. With just a little more time, you feel like you could probably figure it out. Maybe it's a puzzle of sorts; the arrangement of the three pillars certainly feels geometric, and the molding along the bottom follows some sort of pattern. Alternately, the two idiots holding a hushed conference behind you have been working at this longer than you have, perhaps they could help. Then again, you could channel a little magic. Just enough to give you a little help.

Select one course of action:
>Examine the pillars.
>Examine the molding.
>Ask for help.
>You don't have time for this; channel some magic.

>>1087215
>>Examine the molding.

>>1087215
>Ask for help.
I bet we each have to channel magic into each pillar simultaneously or something
I'm out, sorry OP I just have zero interest in playing as a noble girl

>>1087215
>Examine the pillars.

>>1087259
>Examine the molding.
Wrong one

Calling a night here. I thought I could toss out one more update, but frankly my writing has deteriorated to the point where that'd only serve to drive off potential players.

Follow https://twitter.com/OnymousPseud for updates on runtimes. Projected update for tomorrow; 9:15 in the morning at -6 GMT.

Feel free to leave comments/feedback/whatever until then. Thanks to everyone for participating.

>>1087368
Thank you for running

>>1087077
>>Morrigan, M

a suggestion QM, might want to break those huge blocks of text up a little into paragraphs.

>>1087077
Heh… those guys bitching about MC being a girl.
Don't know if it matters now but if it does don't change anything.
>>1087368
Do run in the morning.

New update in thirty minutes.

You dismiss the idea of asking for help with a snort; if they haven’t figured it out yet, you doubt that they’ll be able to help you much. Squatting down, you examine the molding. The material is certainly eye catching enough, replacing the dark stone of the walls and floor with a pale granite.

Each pillar begins with the same image; a dragon, fleeing from one dragon and chasing another. The next scene shows the two fighting each other, with the loser breaking off. Completing your circuit of the pillar you see that the dragon has now come full circle, and is chasing itself.

A fairly standard carving, all told. Perhaps carved with a touch more skill than most, but nothing that immediately stands out to you. Placing one hand on the pillar you move to push yourself upright- and nearly fall over when the molding [i]spins.[/i] You step back as the spinning accelerates, filling the air with a low whistling sound.

“Did you break it?” A small cabinet’s worth of glasses fall several feet as their carrier jumps backwards, interrupting his hushed conference.

“I don’t believe so. Doorknobs turn to open doors, so maybe this is the same effect?” You shrug as you answer; theoretically it could be true. And given the age of the Academy, you wouldn’t be surprised if some now-deceased wizard decided on a more esoteric method of entrance to his classroom.

And it is an entryway. A rift in the air forms, suspended in the middle of the three pillars. As it widens you begin to see the inside of a classroom, filled only with the slumped and slumbering form of what is presumably your teacher.

Three short steps carry you into the room with little fanfare and only the slightest touch of vertigo. The first thing that hits you is the must; the second is a shrieking dove.

“Down, Delphi! Down!” Throwing your hands up to shield your face you nearly stumble something hard and vaguely rounded, saved by an iron grip and a shrill shout. Your savior- a frail old woman with skin like parchment and a turban larger than her head- slaps at the offending bird, sending it squawking into its cage.

“Ah! You must be one of my students. Come, come, sit, I suppose it’s been awhile since the last batch of students came in. The class won’t be very long, today, never fear.”

[blue]Select one of the following:[/blue]
>Quietly take a seat; the bird’s violent, the teacher is unhinged, and you just want to get through this without having to pick more feathers out of your hair.
>You obviously have the wrong class; Divination is a fairly popular discipline, there’s no way this empty room is it.
>Write-in.

>>1088051
>Quietly take a seat; the bird’s violent, the teacher is unhinged, and you just want to get through this without having to pick more feathers out of your hair.
Kind of a shitty time to start a thread. I'm at work so I can't really participate reliably

>>1088051
>Quietly take a seat; the bird’s violent, the teacher is unhinged, and you just want to get through this without having to pick more feathers out of your hair.

>>1088051
>>Quietly take a seat; the bird’s violent, the teacher is unhinged, and you just want to get through this without having to pick more feathers out of your hair.

Votes tallied unanimously in favor of just getting through class.
Note that during the day, there will be two hour voting periods, both because I can't post as often and to allow more anons to participate.

>>1088197
That's very long.

You make your way to your seat as quickly as you can without drawing undue attention to yourself. Carefully setting your bag beside the desk, you get to watch both of your fellow students assaulted by Delphi from the relative safety of the opposite side of the room. It’s really rather impressive; the amount of squawking and flying feathers is remarkable for such a small bird.

Your teacher waits until your fellows- now thoroughly covered in bird feathers (and, in the tall one’s case, muttering death threats)- take their seats before beginning the class.
“Every discipline is based upon a Zeroth Law; an axiom upon which all else must be based, in both a moral and practical sense. Can anyone give an example?” The question hangs in the air for a moment, along with the most tenacious of Delphi’s feathers.

It comes as a surprise when the tall one answers first. “Necromancy. The Law of Exchange. Life can neither be created nor destroyed, merely distributed among various forms.”

“Good! Yes! Necromancy’s Law of Exchange, Elementalism’s Conduit Law, Artifice’s Oath of the Maker. Each discipline emphasizes the user as a vessel for outside forces. Here,” the teacher pauses, partially for dramatic effect, partially to regain her breath, “Divination is unique. Divination [i]has no Zeroth Law.[/i] You perceive the future, but in truth you are looking into yourself. There is no danger of hurting another if you overstep your bounds; you are the only collateral that may be put on offer.”

Now she totters around the room, writing each possibility out on the board as she says them.
“Best case scenario is blindness. Next best is death. Followed by insanity, destruction of the soul, and mindlessness. If you have any doubts, you are free to leave the course at any time. If not,” she smiles, turning back towards you, “let’s begin.”

With that, time begins to blur, words compounding with the smell of old parchment and the vague warmth of a room with too many carpets and not enough windows to make you drowsy. At some point you learn that the short one’s name is David, the careless one is Michael, and your teacher is named Georgiana. An introduction to star charts leaves your eyes heavy, and a tangent on the history of reading palms lulls your head into a gentle, rocking rhythm.

>Cont, (½)

>>1088335
It comes as shock when class ends and you’re finally released to return to your dorms. Shaking off sleep, you join the throng now choking hall, mentally marking the location of the strange pillars.
“Hey! Augustine! Wait up!” That would be David, attempting to muscle his way through the crowd to get to you.

“I’m new here, you’re new here, we don’t know anybody, so I figured it’d be a good idea if we-” His good idea is cut short as the Academy rumbles, the floor trembling with the aftershocks of some distant impact. A moment later, the public address system chimes to life.

“All students are to return to their dorms immediately. Containment units three through seven need to assemble in the Eastern Planetarium.” Containment units? Checking your map, you see that the Eastern Planetarium is fairly close. Surely there wouldn’t be any harm in seeing what the fuss is all about.
[blue]Select one of the following:[/blue]
>Nope, forget that, forget this, you’re heading to your dorm and waiting this out like you’ve been told.
>You’re just a little curious. Worst case scenario, your portal back to your room and take an extra-long nap.
>Write-in.

>>1088338
>>Nope, forget that, forget this, you’re heading to your dorm and waiting this out like you’ve been told.

Looks like you didn't noticed but you lost your OP powers.

>>1088338
>Nope, forget that, forget this, you’re heading to your dorm and waiting this out like you’ve been told.
Let's hold the dangerous death traps until we get stronger.

>>1088338
>Nope, forget that, forget this, you’re heading to your dorm and waiting this out like you’ve been told.

>>1088338
>>You’re just a little curious. Worst case scenario, your portal back to your room and take an extra-long nap.

Rolled 6, 5, 3 + 2 = 16 (3d6 + 2)

Voting window is still open, I just forgot to include this roll in the last post. Voting window closes in about forty minutes.

It's easy enough to brush away your curiosity. 'Contamination' isn't exactly a pleasant term. Wary now, you follow the herd of white cloaks. Individually, you look nothing alike. Some share your look of feigned detachment, heads held high, striding back towards the dorms with concealed haste. Most simply look scared.

At some point you lose David. One moment he's there, doggedly trying to keep up with you. The next you're alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces, not-rushing down paneled corridors. Following the crowd is a good deal easier than checking your map every other moment, and every bit as accurate. You hope.

A part of you is surprised when you begin hearing screams, from somewhere behind you. They start quietly, almost forgotten in the panicked babble. Soon they're impossible to ignore, their echoes spurring the crowd on. You don't catch who the first one to start running is, but you can't miss the second. Or the third. Soon everyone is running as fast as they can, as packed in as you are. Someone in front of you trips, and you almost go down yourself.

Behind you, the screams are getting louder. Closer.

Select one of the following:
>Run. You're almost to your dorms, you can last a little longer.
>Find somewhere to hold out, let the crowd pass you by. It'd be a shame to escape... whatever's chasing you, only to get trampled.
>Stand your ground. This will be easier if you face what's coming. You might even be joined by others, if they have a backbone.

In any case, roll 3d6+1 (standard roll plus PARANOIA.) I will be taking the best of three.

Rolled 5, 3, 6 + 1 = 15 (3d6 + 1)

>>1088671
>>Stand your ground. This will be easier if you face what's coming. You might even be joined by others, if they have a backbone.

Rolled 1, 5, 2 + 1 = 9 (3d6 + 1)

>>1088671
>Stand your ground. This will be easier if you face what's coming. You might even be joined by others, if they have a backbone.

Rolled 6, 5, 6 + 1 = 18 (3d6 + 1)

>>1088671
>Stand your ground. This will be easier if you face what's coming. You might even be joined by others, if they have a backbone.

dice+2d6+1
>Find somewhere to hold out, let the crowd pass you by. It'd be a shame to escape... whatever's chasing you, only to get trampled.

>>1088822
In options and it's dice+3d6+1

Rolled 1, 5, 2 + 1 = 9 (3d6 + 1)

right sorry

Calling for defensive action.

>A note on magic.
As a wizard, your power not tied to how much mana you can store, but how much you can pull from your ambient environment. Going over a certain level (known as your Tolerance Point) will result in a series of increasingly serious maluses, starting with fatigue and ending with various flavors of death.

It is day one of your enrollment at the Academy. Almost day two, actually, given that it was getting dark while you got your quarters sorted out and you’ve probably wasted three hours since then. You’ve been disrespected, confused, and now you’re being chased by some dangerous entity, herded like sheep along a hall that is much too narrow and much too full of bodies to be safe. Some idiot behind you keeps on bumping into your back, and every step holds the risk of falling, and being trampled. It’s more than you can bear. At some point, later on, you may decide to write an expansive essay over the particulars of how you feel about this moment.

For now, you’re going to settle on being pissed.

Up ahead, two hallways merge together, the rivers of humanity combining to form a frothing sea. With a spurt of energy you barge your way to one side, toppling a cabinet into the path of the people behind you. Unsheathing your sword, you climb atop it, finally getting a good look at what has been chasing you for what feels like an eternity.

At first glance, it’s just a fog. You’ve heard of poisonous miasmas, but it’s easy enough to contain them. It takes you a moment to realize that the students on the leading edge of the fog aren’t falling due to paralysis or of their own accord; they’re being pulled. Or maybe tripped, or entangled, you can’t quite tell. The frolicking dark forms in the fog move too quickly for you to focus on, and you can feel the beginnings of a headache coming on as you try. Whatever they are, they’re advancing quickly. You won’t have much time to fortify your position.

Your examination is cut short by the crash of another fallen cabinet. The golem-thing you’d glimpsed earlier seems to have had the same idea you have, though his bulk forces him to arrange the debris into a rudimentary barricade.

“We hold them here!” He shouts, his voice cutting through the frenzied din.

“Do you know what they are?” You can feel your throat going raw with the effort of it, the rush of adrenaline making your voice shaky.

“Does it matter? Either they become corpses, or we do!”


Tolerance Level: 0/30

Select one of the following:
>Douse the front wave in fire. With luck, you will be able to exterminate the horde with ease. +8 Tolerance, roll 3d6+2 (PARANOIA and APPRENTICE ELEMENTALIST.)
>Fortify your position. You probably can’t deal enough damage to end them in one fell swoop, but you can make them pay for every inch in ichor. +5 Tolerance, roll 3d6.
>See if you can’t rally another ally. Surely someone else isn’t afraid to die. Roll 3d6+1, gain DISTRACTED (-1 to first combat action.)
>Write-in.

Rolled 6, 2, 1 = 9 (3d6)

>>1089106
>>Fortify your position. You probably can’t deal enough damage to end them in one fell swoop, but you can make them pay for every inch in ichor. +5 Tolerance, roll 3d6.

Rolled 5, 5, 1 + 1 = 12 (3d6 + 1)

>>1089106
>>See if you can’t rally another ally. Surely someone else isn’t afraid to die. Roll 3d6+1, gain DISTRACTED (-1 to first combat action.)

Rolled 6, 6, 5 + 2 = 19 (3d6 + 2)

>>1089106

>Douse the front wave in fire. With luck, you will be able to exterminate the horde with ease. +8 Tolerance, roll 3d6+2 (PARANOIA and APPRENTICE ELEMENTALIST.)

Best way to rally support, is to fight i guess

Rolled 5, 3, 6 + 2 = 16 (3d6 + 2)

>>1089106
>Douse the front wave in fire. With luck, you will be able to exterminate the horde with ease. +8 Tolerance, roll 3d6+2 (PARANOIA and APPRENTICE ELEMENTALIST.)

Rolled 6, 3, 5 + 2 = 16 (3d6 + 2)

>>1089106
>>Douse the front wave in fire. With luck, you will be able to exterminate the horde with ease. +8 Tolerance, roll 3d6+2 (PARANOIA and APPRENTICE ELEMENTALIST.)

Called for KILL IT WITH FIRE.
Writing.

>Rolled 19 vs. a Mundane task (DC 13) – Success!

Snarling, you turn back towards the fog. It billows as the figures within race towards you, stirred by their frantic movement. You can hardly see into it, only catching the occasional glimpse of a clawed arm or sharpened horn. That’s fine. If they want to play hide and seek, you’ll just burn the gloom off of them.

At this point, summoning the fire is as natural as breathing. You hardly even have to mouth the words before the spell blazes into life, inscribing the fabric of the universe with your will. It surges from an outstretched arm, arcing over the heads of the few straggling students still making their way to safety, surging to meet the wall of demons with hellish ferocity.

The assaulting force doesn’t have time to avoid your attack, hemmed in as they are by the geometry of the hallway. The first rank all but vanishes under your assault, buying their compatriots just enough time to hesitate. Soon the shrieking has a different tone entirely, torn forcibly from the throats of creatures that were never meant to see the light of day.

>+8 Tolerance

Their cover dispelled, you can now see them for what they truly are. Twisted and grotesque, they charge through the ashes of their comrades with reckless abandon. You’d call them demonic, but they lack the sense of otherworldly terror those beings inspire. These things simply seem malformed, the forgotten creations of a careless god. Bulging shoulders are coupled to an almost nonexistent torso, a single head thrashing back and forth on the end of a neck much too small to provide adequate support. You catch a vision of a single eye, strangely human in comparison to the monstrous face it’s set in, before they’re upon you.
>Cont, (1/2)

You whip your blade forward in a short lunge, bringing you to the edge of your impromptu fighting platform and burying its tip in the chest of the nearest monstrosity. Wrenching the steel out the side of its ribcage you whirl, slashing another across the face in an attempt to keep your flanks clear. A single claw gashes at your side, the blow not so much felt at perceived. You are in the spirit of the fight now, and there is not a thing in the world that can stop you.

“Humonculi!” The man-golem shouts, momentarily distracting you. He’s throwing his arms about him like clubs, sending waves of the diminutive figures into the air. While you’re both holding your ground for the moment, there’s no telling what the tide of battle may bring.

PARANOIA LOST

Tolerance Level: 8/30

Select one of the following:
>Keep at it. These wretched beings may be plentiful, but they cannot hope to contain you. Roll 3d6+1 (Apprentice Duelist.)
>Use magic to augment your actions. You may not be skilled in the art of Kinemantics, but you know enough to get by. Roll 3d6+3, gain FRENZIED, +4 Tolerance.
>Fight your way to your ally. Help must be on the way, and you’re both beginning to feel a bit pressured. Roll 3d6+1 (Apprentice Duelist.)
>Bathe them all in fire. The unclean must be made pure. Roll 3d6+1 (Apprentice Elementalist,) +4 Tolerance.
>Retreat. Life is not so dear that you’d sell it for an insignificant death at a juncture such as this. Roll 3d6-3, gain COWARDLY.
>Write-in.

Rolled 6, 6, 2 + 1 = 15 (3d6 + 1)

>>1089706
>>Fight your way to your ally. Help must be on the way, and you’re both beginning to feel a bit pressured. Roll 3d6+1 (Apprentice Duelist.)

Rolled 1, 3, 4 + 3 = 11 (3d6 + 3)

>>1089706
>Use magic to augment your actions. You may not be skilled in the art of Kinemantics, but you know enough to get by. Roll 3d6+3, gain FRENZIED, +4 Tolerance.

>>1089706
> burn them all
We are a pyro at a magic school.

Second choice would be kinematics if there is s tie.

Rolled 1, 2, 4 = 7 (3d6)

>>1089706
>Fight your way to your ally. Help must be on the way, and you’re both beginning to feel a bit pressured. Roll 3d6+1 (Apprentice Duelist.)

Rolled 5, 2, 4 + 1 = 12 (3d6 + 1)

>>1089766

>>1089706
>>Fight your way to your ally. Help must be on the way, and you’re both beginning to feel a bit pressured. Roll 3d6+1 (Apprentice Duelist.)

Calling in favor of not getting isolated and surrounded by the wee beasties.
Now writing from my home computer, making my rather arduous work-around unnecessary.

File: Homunculi.jpg (132 KB, 695x1000)

132 KB JPG

Homunculi, then. Artificial creatures, bent from the corrupted bodies of the truly living. Usually they are endowed with a Motive, some purpose integral to their very being. Back at the estate, your father owned six such creatures; a librarian, four groundskeepers, and a chimney sweep. When you were younger, the single minded intensity with which they completed their tasks filled you with unease, though the forlorn listlessness that they spent the rest of the day in was almost worse. You wondered what it must be like, to be so devoted to any one thing.

Given the faces on the howling constructs, you would guess that it feels like rapture. That they want to destroy you, to rend you limb from limb, swarming you like so many ants and leaving only bones in their wake, that much is evident. You simply have no interest in cooperating.

>You rolled 15 vs. a Mundane (DC 13) Task - Success!

Your blows long ago lost any semblance of grace. You lash out at ashen flesh if and when it appears, cleaving through emaciated joints and swollen muscles with reckless abandon. A variety of nicks and cuts adorn your garb, but as of yet none have truly penetrated to harm you. Whether you have luck or the craftsmanship of your uniform to blame is up to dispute, and do not wish to give either the opportunity to fail.

“To you!” You shout, savagely slapping away a lunging monstrosity before you charge across the intervening distance to your ally. He’s still doing well for himself, though he has not been spared his share of the attack. One joint is groaning ferociously as he moves, punctuating each violent motion with a staccato protest. The floor around him is cracked, as if it has been impacted by a small mountain; the legacy of several too many stomps. As you watch he grabs one of the wretches by the head and slams it into the ground, another fissure forming in the stone.

>Cont (1/2)

>>1090430
It takes every ounce of will in your body to stop running once you get to him. Some part of your brain shrieks at you to run, to hide, that things with claws and teeth and unhinged jaws are dangerous. Forcing that aside, you turn in place, forcing the rapier four inches deep into a skull of something that was once alive and is now a corpse.

Panting, you twitch to one side, your brain having recently learned that movement almost always equals a target. Instead the edge of your sword bites into thin air, and you are left bewildered. The homunculi are… hanging back? Gone is the suicidal onslaught that left them dead in droves. Instead they stand there, watching you with disinterest, huddled in a wall about thirty feet back. You feel as if you should exploit the opportunity, but your legs can’t seem to decide which direction to run in.

“I would know your name, before we die.” The air vibrates as he talks, though it seems as if his chest hardly moves.

Pick one thing to say:
>I do not plan on dying.
>I am Augustine Thompson.
> Augustine. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Select one course of action:
>Charge! If they wish to give you the initiative, the fault is theirs! Roll 3d6+2 (Apprentice Duelist, Charge!) gain CHARGE!
>Perhaps now would be a good time to retreat. It seems wise to take the respite you have been offered. Roll 3d6-1 (Outnumbered,) gain COWARD.
>Now you can set them all ablaze, without fear of getting singed yourself. Roll 3d6+1 (Apprentice Elementalist,) +5 Tolerance.
>The future is uncertain, yes… but maybe you could fix that? Roll 3d6-2 (Unskilled Diviner,) +10 Tolerance.
>Write-in.

Rolled 3, 1, 5 + 1 = 10 (3d6 + 1)

>>1090434
> Augustine. Pleasure to make your acquaintance
>Now you can set them all ablaze, without fear of getting singed yourself. Roll 3d6+1 (Apprentice Elementalist,) +5 Tolerance.

Rolled 4, 4, 6 = 14 (3d6)

>>1090434
>Augustine. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.
>Now you can set them all ablaze, without fear of getting singed yourself. Roll 3d6+1 (Apprentice Elementalist,) +5 Tolerance.

Rolled 1, 1, 5 + 1 = 8 (3d6 + 1)

>>1090434
>Augustine. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.
>Now you can set them all ablaze, without fear of getting singed yourself. Roll 3d6+1 (Apprentice Elementalist,) +5 Tolerance.
Hope everyone looks down on us for using a sword at a magic school.

Rolled 4, 2, 6 + 1 = 13 (3d6 + 1)

>>1090434
>Now you can set them all ablaze, without fear of getting singed yourself. Roll 3d6+1 (Apprentice Elementalist,) +5 Tolerance.

Calling in favor of cheerful introduction and purge the unclean.

You take a deep breath before your answer, trying to get your eyes to focus on the shifting forms. Whether it’s out of old habit or euphoria born of adrenaline, you can’t help but smile.
“Augustine,” you laugh, pooling energy into the palm of one hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

>You rolled 14 vs. a Complex (DC 18) task - Failure! +5 Tolerance.

The fire bounds across the distance between you and the now-dazed mutants almost instantaneously, leaving them awash with flame. They hardly struggle as they’re incinerated, though a few let loose pained groans. You dare to flare the spray a bit wider, catching five or six of the incapacitated aflame at once.

“My name would be hard for you to say, Augustine.” The way he speaks is strange, the intonation fluctuating between a translator’s montone and an impassioned baritone that would not be out of place in an opera performance.
“However, you may call me Vulf. It has been a pleasure to fight beside you.”

You aren’t exactly surprised when the spell is severed, the fire guttering its way into silence. There is a very intelligent something controlling this corrupted assembly. You haven’t a clue what that something is, or what it wants, but it does make a certain amount of sense. However, you are surprised when something rises through the floor.

It looks more like the memory of a great and terrible threat than does a harbinger of destruction. The once-magnificent robe it wears is motheaten, the bones you can see polished by neglect and age into a dirty yellow. Its anima flickers in its eye sockets, betraying its immense age. Darkness gathers around it, quietly whistling between the openings between its bones.

“How endearing,” the skeleton hisses, “two mortals, making their peace with each other before they greet oblivion.” Death rolls off of it in waves, choking you with hands that do not exist. It isn’t a smell, or a sound; it is an idea. Even being this close is enough to leave you choking down panic, your mind locked into imagining the most gruesome ways to die.
>Cont, (1/2)

>>1090701
New sounds pierce your ear, echoing down the hall behind you. Bright voices mix with the harsh clank of steel on steel to assure you that help is on the way, if only you can hold out long enough for it to arrive. Risking a glance away from the floating mound of rags, you make note of your surroundings, searching for anything that might help you survive this next encounter. You might not need it. After all, you’ve plenty of willpower left in you before drawing magic becomes too dangerous. But you might need all the help you can get; this particular being was strong enough to raise a small army of malformed belligerents, who knows what else it may be capable of?

Tolerance Level: 13/30

Select one course of action:
>Fuck the homunculi, fuck this school, and fuck old rag-a-bones over there. You will watch this place burn, and you will laugh as you do so. Roll 3d6+1(Apprentice Elementalist,) +13 Tolerance.
>He hasn’t even said anything besides a vaguely morbid threat, and you already tire of his presence. Steel your sword arm and move to engage. Roll 3d6+2 (Apprentice Duelist, Initiative.)
>Coax Vulf into charging the skeleton. He’s both bigger and stronger than you; surely he’s more resilient as well. Roll 3d6, contested roll.
>Retreat. Help is on its way, it would be best to meet it halfway, before these images in your head become permanent. Roll 3d6-1 (Outnumbered,) gain COWARD.
>Write-in.

That's all for tonight, folks. I'll be running again in the morning, although I can't promise any time in particular. As always, comments and criticism are welcome.

Thank you all for participating.

Rolled 3, 5, 6 + 2 = 16 (3d6 + 2)

>>1090706
>He hasn’t even said anything besides a vaguely morbid threat, and you already tire of his presence. Steel your sword arm and move to engage. Roll 3d6+2 (Apprentice Duelist, Initiative.)
>>1090710
Thank you for running

>>1090706
>He hasn’t even said anything besides a vaguely morbid threat, and you already tire of his presence. Steel your sword arm and move to engage. Roll 3d6+2 (Apprentice Duelist, Initiative.)
Light our sword on fire as we do so

Rolled 1, 2, 2 + 2 = 7 (3d6 + 2)

>>1090732

Rolled 4, 5, 2 + 2 = 13 (3d6 + 2)

>>1090706
>He hasn’t even said anything besides a vaguely morbid threat, and you already tire of his presence. Steel your sword arm and move to engage. Roll 3d6+2 (Apprentice Duelist, Initiative.)
"Are you doing this because they refused to give you tenure?"

>>1090706
Set the cabinets on fire and have Vulf launch it towards them.

Use that stalling time to make time delayed explosions or something on the floor between us and them. Hopefully it takes him time to dispel them.

>>1090706
>>Coax Vulf into charging the skeleton. He’s both bigger and stronger than you; surely he’s more resilient as well. Roll 3d6, contested roll.

>>1090842
I like that
Or maybe an Icewall or something, should be elementalism too right?

>You rolled 16 vs. a Complex (DC 18) task - Failure!

“What, were you denied tenure?” You sneer, rapidly closing the distance between yourself and the construct. Flicking the tip of your sword through the air with practiced ferocity you strike once, twice, thrice, each blow shattering one bone or another. With a triumphant howl you bury the steel into his ribcage, fully expecting complete dissolution. Instead a clattering laughter greets your ears, throwing you off balance.

Drowning. You’re drowning, water filling your throat, squeezing every drop of precious air from your lungs. Or perhaps you’re falling, the floor plummeting away beneath you. Fire scorches your flesh, cracking your skin and searing your eyes. With a shout you recoil, putting as much distance between yourself and the ghastly skeleton as three steps can manage.

>Gained SHAKEN (-1 to all rolls.)

It feels like an age before you regain control of your body, chest hitching with the aftershocks of terror. As your vision clears you see the miscreation begin to advance, floating towards you with a glacial pace. A glance to the side confirms what you had guessed; the homunculi have advanced, if only half a pace. You shudder to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t recovered in time.

“Have you taken a fright, young one?” He mocks, his unholy voice echoing within walls that suddenly feel much to close, the ceiling much too low.
The pop-pop-pop of his damaged arm is the only thing that alerts you to Vulf’s movement. With a speed that belies his size he dashes at the intruder, arms poised to deliver an earth-shattering blow. The floor shakes as it absorbs the miss, his fist passing clean through where his target was just seconds ago.

“My my my, you are a feisty one.” You whirl to face the sibilation, now coming from behind you. How he got there you haven’t a clue; there was no portal you could see, nothing that would betray the casting of a spell. Something is not as it seems, but you haven’t the slightest clue where to start.

Select one course of action:
>You have no interest in getting close to that freak again. Keep your distance, try and distract him until help arrives. Roll 3d6-1 (Shaken) against a Mundane DC.
>Those rags of his are surely flammable, and you won’t make the mistake of going easy on him again. Roll 3d6 (Apprentice Elementalist, Shaken), gain +10 Tolerance against a Complex DC.
>If you can see where he’s going, destroying him should be simple enough. It all lies in the knowing. Roll 3d6-3 (Shaken, Unskilled Diviner) against a Complex DC.
>He didn’t move while you struck him; perhaps if you’re close enough, he’s tethered to reality. Tie him down, leaving an opening for Vulf to strike. Roll 3d6 (Apprentice Duelist, Shaken) against a Complex DC.
>Write-in.

>>1091353
>Write-in.
Hold a defensive stance, blast fire behind us to prevent back attacks.

Rolled 4, 5, 6 = 15 (3d6)

>>1091353
>>If you can see where he’s going, destroying him should be simple enough. It all lies in the knowing. Roll 3d6-3 (Shaken, Unskilled Diviner) against a Complex DC.

Rolled 6, 1, 3 = 10 (3d6)

>>1091353
>Maybe it's an illusion. Send the far end of the hallway ablaze. Worst case scenario, there won't be any more homunculi coming as reinforcements. Best case scenario, he's in there.
>Make some snippy comment about not letting him run away. Maybe we'll even believe it.
>Roll 3d6 (Apprentice Elementalist, Shaken), gain +10 Tolerance

Rolled 2, 2, 4 = 8 (3d6)

>>1091353
>>You have no interest in getting close to that freak again. Keep your distance, try and distract him until help arrives. Roll 3d6-1 (Shaken) against a Mundane DC.

Rolled 3, 4, 4 = 11 (3d6)

>>1091353
Oh shit didn't roll

Rolled 6, 4, 2 = 12 (3d6)

>>1091353
>You have no interest in getting close to that freak again. Keep your distance, try and distract him until help arrives. Roll 3d6-1 (Shaken) against a Mundane DC.

Calling for stalling until the cavalry arrives.

You can’t break every bone in his ossified body, as much as you’d like to. The very thought of getting close enough to hit him makes you tremble. Fighting down panic, you do what desperate people with only the slightest shred of hope have been doing for thousands of years when faced with a seemingly insurmountable danger.

You stall.

>You rolled 15 vs. a Mundane (DC 13) task - Success!

“Out of curiosity, how shallow was your grave? It looks like a sparrow used your eye sockets as a nest.” It isn’t entirely a lie, though you doubt it matters much. As long as he (it?) is focused on you, he isn’t focused on whoever is coming down the hall. There has to be someone coming down the hall, the Planetarium wasn’t that far off, was it?

“Taunting me is unwise, mortal. I have seen the rise and fall of empires, enslaved the realms of kings. Who are you to stand against one such as m-” his skull goes *tink* as the pebble bounces off of it, cutting him off mid-sentence. You’re as far away from him as you can get without backing into one of his slaves, crouched amongst the remains of your cabinet.

“I’m sorry, come again? It’s hard to hear someone who doesn’t have vocal cords.” You’re picking up steam now, drawing on long years of experience sparring with each of your eight cousins.
“I’d ask you to leave us alone, but that would require you to possess eardrums.”

“You shall be repaid for your insolen-” the rather sizable rock Vulf has thrown elicits a *crunch* instead, knocking his head off center. The sound of ice cracking fills the air as the bone snaps back into place, malevolent eyes focused squarely on the two of you. Evidently done with conversation, he rears back, eldritch energies coalescing around his form.

Meanwhile, at just around the corner at the end of the hall, you see something. Just the slightest flare of light, growing in size. It looks like someone has finally gotten around to saving you, but you’ll need to buy them a couple moments more.

Tolerance Level: 13/30

Select one of the following:
>You can distract him for a couple moments more. It can’t be that long until the spell is complete. Roll 3d6-1 (Shaken,) against a Complex DC.
>Preempt his attack with one of your own; if nothing else, it ought to stagger him. Roll 3d6 (Shaken, Apprentice Elementalist,) gain +7 against a Mundane DC.
>Now more than ever, you need to tie him down. If he phases out of the way, the incoming attack will be for nought. Roll 3d6-1 (Shaken,) against a Complex DC.
>Run past him in a full on retreat. You have no way of knowing what the spell will be, and no intention of being anywhere near its target. Roll 3d6-2 (Shaken, Outnumbered) against a Mundane DC.
>Take the hit. You’ve been scratched a few times, but nothing too serious. You can take it. Roll 3d6-1 (Shaken,) against a Complex DC.
>Write-in.

Rolled 4, 2, 4 = 10 (3d6)

>>1091618
>Preempt his attack with one of your own; if nothing else, it ought to stagger him. Roll 3d6 (Shaken, Apprentice Elementalist,) gain +7 against a Mundane DC.

Rolled 1, 2, 2 = 5 (3d6)

>>1091618
>Preempt his attack with one of your own; if nothing else, it ought to stagger him. Roll 3d6 (Shaken, Apprentice Elementalist,) gain +7 against a Mundane DC.

Rolled 2, 3, 5 = 10 (3d6)

>>1091618
>>Preempt his attack with one of your own; if nothing else, it ought to stagger him. Roll 3d6 (Shaken, Apprentice Elementalist,) gain +7 against a Mundane DC.

Rolled 1, 3, 6 = 10 (3d6)

>>1091618
Nat. 18!

Evil Overlord is recruiting and this is the practical interview.

Votes called; preemptive attack.

>You rolled 10 vs. a Mundane (DC 13) task - Failure!
>Gained +7 Tolerance

In a split-second act of desperation, you let fly with whatever magic is near to hand. To call the misshapen ball of energy that streaks towards your target a ‘spell’ would be an insult of the highest caliber. A stiff breeze would be enough to unravel it, and you’d be surprised if it even extended all the way to your target.

It makes it, if only just, throwing off his aim by a hair. The golden energy skips off of his exposed clavicle, passing cleanly beside his own spell and diffusing into a golden nimbus behind him. Given a moment more, you could have ended him, perhaps shearing off his arm at the shoulder. Given a moment more, you could have dodged his own blast, placing you safely out of harm's way.

Instead you scream. You barely feel yourself hit the floor, the magic cutting through your stomach like knives. It would be one thing if the wound sent pain coursing through your veins; instead, it sends fear spiraling up your spine, gripping your thoughts in a vice made of your worst nightmares.

>Replaced SHAKEN with TERROR (-3 to all rolls)
>Gained GRAVELY WOUNDED (Positive traits no longer apply)
>Current health; 3/15

Failure. Its consequences have been seared into you from a young age, most of your waking life has been spent in a quest to avoid it. You abhor it, the way it sounds, the way it feels, the pitying looks it elicits in those who should know better, the way it made your grandfather scowl. Whether you were five or fifteen made no difference, and every infraction was met with the same stern disapproval. And now it wraps around you, closing tight like a second skin. On some level you’re aware of your wound, of how your blood is pooling beneath your prone form. None of it matters. None of that matters. You failed, and now you’re paying the price. That’s only just, isn’t it? Your rightful compensation for your inability to perform.

You see the phosphorescence of the spell going off as a painful illumination, reflected off the back of your closed eyelids. Another, and then a third, spears of brightness shooting across your vision faster than you can process. Somewhere in the distance, someone is shouting. Two someones, perhaps. It doesn’t matter. The ground shakes in answer, then falls away completely. Why can’t they simply let you be? Everything is as it should be, can’t they see that?

>Cont (½)

>>1092407
You shudder, rocked gently side to side in a swaying motion, as if you’re being carried. Moments later something sharp digs into your back and you return to earth, the stone reassuringly cool. A new light springs to life, softer, more pleasant. As if from a great distance, you feel your skin crawling, knitting itself back together. One eye flickers open, screwed tight against the outside world. The silhouette of a form greets you, objects that could be either hands or claws pressed flat against your stomach, where just a moment ago you were rent apart. Gorge rises to your throat as you watch the process, strips of flesh snapping back into place with a mind of their own. Dimly, you’re aware of someone saying your name, but their voice is rough, and you turn away from it.

>Current health; 11/15
>Replaced GRAVELY WOUNDED with LIGHTLY WOUNDED (-2 to all strenuous rolls)

“Hey, hotshot, eyes up. You’ve questions to answer.” His speech slowly sharpens in clarity, the endless shrieking in your ears replaced something less obtrusive, though no less uncomfortable. The speaker resolves himself into a silver cloak, a red shield superimposed over a similarly-colored sword marking the right shoulder. Eyes the color of graphite bore into you without sympathy, and it takes a moment before you realize that you aren’t being attacked.

“I’m here.” Your voice is hoarse and weak, even to your own ears. An attempt to sit up leaves you breathless but upright, boxed in between a concerned Vulf and your interrogator.

“What sort of idiot takes on a Litch-Construct by themselves, hm?” You can’t tell if he’s impressed or annoyed, though his demeanor makes you guess the latter.

Pick one of the following:
>“What sort of idiot takes fifteen minutes to respond to a brawl in a corridor?”
>“I had assistance.”
>“Me.”
>Write-in.

>>1092416
>“What sort of idiot takes fifteen minutes to respond to a brawl in a corridor?”

>>1092416
>>“What sort of idiot takes fifteen minutes to respond to a brawl in a corridor?”

>>1092416
>“What sort of idiot takes fifteen minutes to respond to a brawl in a corridor?”

>>1092416
>>“What sort of idiot takes fifteen minutes to respond to a brawl in a corridor?”

>>1092416
>“What sort of idiot takes fifteen minutes to respond to a brawl in a corridor?”
>It was either that or die, I didn't feel like dying.

>>1092416
>The alternative was being trampled to death by a panicked mob of children. What kind of idiot let's a lich construct out of their pen?

Calling votes for maximum snark.

>>1092879
>>You like the sound of an aid station and a good night's sleep. Both may be in short supply soon, if his map is accurate.

>>1092886
Still counts. Sorry, had to do an edit.

"What kind of idiot takes fifteen minutes to stop a brawl between a litch-construct and a first year student? You want to call me rash? Fine. But I made myself of use." The vitriol comes naturally, born of what was almost certainly a near death experience. A pain in your side cuts you off prematurely, leaving you to suck in air and glare daggers.

An age passes before he answers. "Eight."

"We lack context." Vulf beats you to the answer, the half of his face you can see drawn up in confusion.

"Eight minutes, princess. You couldn't go eight minutes without getting yourself disemboweled by a skeleton older than the three of us combined. Congrats, you're a fucking waste of space. And you, rock-jockey, you stood there and watched as she took a hit that would've bounced off of you."

A bitter laugh escapes you, and you make no attempt to choke it down. "Gee, it's almost like a pair of students with zero combat experience do poorly in combat."

"You want to have a go with me right now? Let's go." Reaching into his cloak he pulls out a map. The vellum crackles, and on its surface ink dances. It's hard to tell how exactly it works, but the general picture does not look promising. Masses of small, white circles are retreating into the five buildings central to the Academy, harassed by purple triangles and black rectangles that fill entire hallways.

"This is why I took so long. You think you're the only student that's been thrown into a fight with zero experience?" The scorn in his voice is cutting. You turn aside.

"How would you have us proceed?" Vulf asks, pulling himself upright with his characteristic accompaniment of popping.

"Retreat into a dorm. There are aid stations there, they can heal you better than I can, check you for any traces of taint. I can mark it on your map for you. You two are done being 'useful.'"

>You have lost TERROR.

Select one of the following:
>You like the sound of an aid station and a good night's sleep. Both may be in short supply soon, if his map is accurate.
>Absolutely not. Yes the fight was difficult, and you're a little banged up, but it's nothing a couple night's sleep can fix. You failed, and now you have to atone for that failure. Strike out on your own.
>Help him out. Sure he's both more experienced and less injured than you are, but it may be a good way to gain some experience of your own. You want to be useful, dammit.
>Write-in.

>>1092932
>Help him out. Sure he's both more experienced and less injured than you are, but it may be a good way to gain some experience of your own. You want to be useful, dammit.

>>1092932
>Help him out. Sure he's both more experienced and less injured than you are, but it may be a good way to gain some experience of your own. You want to be useful, dammit.

>>1092932
>help him out
Not the dorms won't be safe for long if the school falls.

>Help him out. Sure he's both more experienced and less injured than you are, but I WANT TO BE USEFULL NOW!

I insist! The next time one of us dies, we might seriously consider getting back to the Dorm.

Till then Vulf can take point. He kinda owes us.

Calling for aggressive helpfulness.
Between now and the next update, vote on whether Vulf will be taking point.

>Let Vulf take point; he's halfway to being a boulder as it is, what's the danger?

>There's no reason to make him feel any worse than he already does. You don't know what 'rock-jockey' means, but you don't like the sound of it.

>>1093257
>Let Vulf take point; he's halfway to being a boulder as it is, what's the danger?
We are objectively squishier than he is

>>1093257
>>Let Vulf take point; he's halfway to being a boulder as it is, what's the danger?

>Let Vulf take point; he's halfway to being a boulder as it is, what's the danger?

But lets Phrase it slightly nicer. He does this and we are even, and both pretty much heros as far as im considered.

File: Sanctuary.jpg (34 KB, 600x327)

34 KB JPG

“We’re going with you.” You state, hefting yourself to your feet. Your right side is a little weaker than your left, and you can’t twist as far as you usually can, but you can live with that. You want to be useful.

The man in the silver cloak arches his eyebrows in disbelief. “Fine. When you lot get me killed trying to cover for my stupidity, make sure you scratch Jeremiah Hawthorne into the stone where it happens. Maybe you’ll get to put a mark on this place that way.”

Blessed with his grudging assent, the three of you begin walking down the corridor from whence Jeremiah came. The devastation is eerie in its specificity. Some sections of the hall have been borderline levelled: tapestries torn down, paintings shredded, doors pulverized into splinters. In other places everything has been left untouched, looking just as pristine as it did last summer, during orientation. About fifteen minutes into your trek, Jeremiah motions Vulf forward, leaving the two of you to follow in his wake.

The three of you are mute as you walk, but you do not walk in silence. Screams and shattering glass are your constant companions, occasionally accompanied by howls that send chills up your spine and moans that make you want to find a rock to crawl under. The windows that shed light on the passageways are fully dark now, and the stars sit firmly in the sky, watching over the brutality without judgement.

After what feels like an age, Jeremiah calls for a stop. You’re in the northern wing of the school now, and the signs of violence are all around you. A fallen chandelier blocks part of the passageway in front of you, the ornate iron bars mangled from their fall.

“This is as good a place to stop as any.” He says, and your legs brook no argument. You’ve been up since five o’clock yesterday morning, and it has to be getting close to about that time now. You aren’t exactly dead on your feet, but you’re definitely the next best thing.

>Cont, (½)

>>1093418
Opening a classroom’s door is fraught with tension. Anything could be hiding on the other side, lurking in the shadows. Channeling the barest trickle of magic you set one finger alight, waving it about the darkened space. Nothing. Not even a rat’s scurrying is present to fray your nerves. Merely a multitude of desks, and a single couch. With Vulf’s help, dragging the desks to form a barricade is a simple affair. Finally, you close the door and latch the bolt, sealing you all within.

“Jeremiah,” you ask, voicing a thought that’s been troubling you, “where is the faculty?”

“Securing the dorms.” Is his terse response as he sets his bag against a wall and unfolds his cloak.

“Wouldn’t it make sense to leave the students in the dorms, and for them to deal with… whatever this is?”
“It would. Instead, they are bound by law to undertake ‘Whatever course of action most immediately secures the lives of the greatest number of students.’ Whether that course of action makes sense or not.” He snaps his cloak flat with a flick of his wrists before sitting down on it, his back leaning against his bag.

“So it’s up to us.” The idea fills you with unease. On the one hand, there are almost certainly other groups scattered among the halls just like you three. Some may be larger, and better equipped. They’re almost certainly more experienced. On the other, you’re all just students. This seems distinctly like an event that would benefit from faculty intervention.

“Yeah. The three fucksketeers, out to save the world. Which one of you is taking first watch?”

Select one of the following:
>You’ll take the watch yourself.
>Let Vulf take the watch.
>Suggest Jeremiah take the watch.
>Just find a place to sleep. The two of them can figure it out.

>>1093422
>You’ll take the watch yourself.

>>1093422
>>You’ll take the watch yourself.

>>1093422
>Just find a place to sleep. The two of them can figure it out.
24 hours and not a lot of Tolerance left.

Calling and writing for going without sleep in the hopes of still breathing in the morning.

“I’ll do it. You’ve saved my life, and you,” you say, turning to Vulf, “decided to help me when I turned to fight the homunculi. It seems fair.”

Jeremiah snorts and stretches out on the floor by way of answer, burying his face in his pack. Vulf inclines his head and tromps over to the opposite corner as you sit on the edge of a desk. You hear the whisper of runes deactivating, and can’t help but look over your shoulder.

The golem isn’t so much armor as it is a shell. One by one the orange markings that dot its surface go dark, the corresponding body part going limp. Within the shell, Vulf is a monster of a man, easily eight feet in height. Outside of it he’s diminished. Burns dot his frame, rendering one arm completely useless. As he drags himself free of the dying statue you see that he’s somewhat emaciated, his muscles atrophied, the cheek usually concealed behind his stone half-mask strangely hollow. You avert your eyes from the oddly personal sight, laying your sword across your lap. Whether whole or not, he’s still capable in a fight, and you aren’t in any position to be turning down help.

Staying awake is the most difficult part of guard duty. With only a single point of access to watch over, you’re free to let your mind wander over the events of the past day. Even if it wasn’t how you expected your first day as a student of the Academy to go, you can’t say that you’ve lacked for things to do.

*****

Twenty-four hours have passed since Augustine has last slept, although she doesn’t know that for certain. Outside of the locked room she is watching over, past the walls of the besieged Academy, life continues as normal. Back home at the estate she was raised on her mother is worrying, her father tending to her eldest brother. Vulf’s youngest sister struggled in math today, and came home for the first time without a friendly smile and a bear hug to greet her. Jeremiah’s parents have noted that he neglected to send them a letter, but figure that he has probably been busy with his studies.

>Cont, (½)

>>1093921
History glosses over a number of things that first hand accounts consider sacred. Conversations are lost, or corrupted. Fights are displayed in black and white, the nuanced shades of grey replaced with academic simplicity. Emotions lose their impact, transported onto pages too bleak and too empty to ever truly convey their intensity. Victorious villains transform themselves into unsung heros, while the downtrodden and the vanquished are written into margins and blurbs. Picture frames do not change, though the people inside of them do.

How has Augustine changed today?

Select one of the following:
>She’s become more passionate. More confident. (Gain Passionate, +1 to rolls in social and combat situations.)
>She’s learnt a modicum of restraint, her brush with death lending her some much-need caution. (Gain Caution, ups every roll to the best of four instead of the best of three.)
>Her disdain for the arbitrary nature of life and death has intensified, destroying her fear of injury. (Gain Courageous, ignore Shaken and Cowed status affects.)
>Relying upon her spells has given her a new appreciation for the workings of magic, allowing her to more adeptly manipulate it. (Gain Fateweaver, add up to 5 Tolerance to add up to 5 to any one roll.)
>Today marks the first time she’s been in danger of overtaxing her magical capabilities, forcing her to devise a way to release some of the pent up corruption. (Gain Catharsis, sacrifice up to 5 health to lower your Tolerance Level by up to 10.)

Select one of the following:
>Replace Apprentice Duelist with Practiced Duelist (+2 to combat when using light swords.)
>Replace Apprentice Elementalist with Practiced Elementalist (+2 to Elemental spells.)

>>1093931
>>She’s learnt a modicum of restraint, her brush with death lending her some much-need caution. (Gain Caution, ups every roll to the best of four instead of the best of three.)

>Replace Apprentice Elementalist with Practiced Elementalist (+2 to Elemental spells.)

>>1093931
>Relying upon her spells has given her a new appreciation for the workings of magic, allowing her to more adeptly manipulate it. (Gain Fateweaver, add up to 5 Tolerance to add up to 5 to any one roll.)
>Replace Apprentice Elementalist with Practiced Elementalist (+2 to Elemental spells.)

>>1093931
>>Her disdain for the arbitrary nature of life and death has intensified, destroying her fear of injury. (Gain Courageous, ignore Shaken and Cowed status affects.)

>>Replace Apprentice Elementalist with Practiced Elementalist

File: Augustine.png (4.43 MB, 2481x3507)

4.43 MB PNG

In an attempt to stimulate conversation, here is the current character sheet

Note that skills (such as Practiced Duelist) may be acquired randomly, as the consequence of attending a class, or via special opportunity. Traits (Like Passionate, Fateweaver and Caution) are only available during the rest after a traumatic event and the end of a nine week period at the Academy. You may only advance skills that you have made use of since your last advancement, which is why you do not have an opportunity to replace Unskilled Diviner with Neophyte Diviner.

If forty minutes pass with less than three new votes then this voting window will remain open until tomorrow morning.

>>1093931
>>Relying upon her spells has given her a new appreciation for the workings of magic, allowing her to more adeptly manipulate it. (Gain Fateweaver, add up to 5 Tolerance to add up to 5 to any one roll.)
Practiced duelist

you need hooks for potential upgrades in the future that aren't flat upgrades. That's the sort of thing that sparks discussion. I recommend you check out Broken Sky Online

>>1093931
> restraint
> practised elementalist

Are we supposed to be voting based on the perks or the flavor text?

>>1094089
This is my first time running a quest, and providing multiple ways to mess with the probability of passing seemed like a decent idea. I'll definitely look into that, though.

>>1094121
The flavor text is just that; flavor. While it will change how I write the scenes and the actions you take, it does not count for or against you mechanically.

As always, I thank everyone who participated today. The voting window for this will be open until 9:30 at the morning (at GMT-6), perhaps tomorrow we can learn about why the Academy has gone to hell in a hand basket.

>>1093931
>>Her disdain for the arbitrary nature of life and death has intensified, destroying her fear of injury. (Gain Courageous, ignore Shaken and Cowed status affects.)
>Replace Apprentice Elementalist with Practiced Elementalist (+2 to Elemental spells.)

>Relying upon her spells has given her a new appreciation for the workings of magic, allowing her to more adeptly manipulate it. (Gain Fateweaver, add up to 5 Tolerance to add up to 5 to any one roll.)

>Replace Apprentice Elementalist with Practiced Elementalist (+2 to Elemental spells.)

New update dropping, and the voting period is ending, in fifteen minutes.

>>1094219
>spoiler
no, that's fine, but the problem is that we can choose one right now and THAT'S IT.

For example:
>Gain Courageous
>>Required for/More likely to obtain Inspiring, Risk-taker, and Increased Tolerance

>Gain Fateweaver
>>Required for /More likely to obtain Fatereader, Uncanny Luck, Storyteller

The rising sun finds you staring at the pockmarked door, waiting for something to begin banging against it. During the first hour of your watch, you thought you heard screaming. Shortly afterward, you heard feet pounding against stone with frantic intensity. The second hour brought to you a sound which could have been music or could have been a hallucination.

The third hour brought you a memory.

You were five when you cast your first spell. Though you can’t remember it yourself, you’ve been told the story often enough that you can practically relive it. The sound of the coffee mug shattering after you accidentally knocked it off the counter table rings in your ears, your father’s frown filling your chest with ice. The sense of euphoria as you did what you had seen your mother do so many times, performing the simplest of repair spells as if you had been doing it all your life. Your cheeks twitch upwards with pity for that excitable child with her life before her and not a care in the world.

You preferred the screaming.

>Cont, (1/2)

>>1094884
Somewhat unexpectedly, Vulf rises first, slipping into his armor as quietly as one can possibly activate a three quarter ton war machine. That is to say that he only crushes one desk instead of demolishing half the room, and Jeremiah merely springs to his feet, hammer in hand, instead of simply obliterating your end of the room with those spears of light you saw yesterday.

It’s the little things that count, you suppose.

>Current health: 12/15
>Tolerance Level: 19/30

Breaking camp is exceptionally quick, given that you never settled in, Jeremiah just wrapped himself in his cloak, and Vulf curled into a ball. Sidling up to the door, you press your ear into the wood, attempting to listen to whatever’s happening in the hallway. Seems all clear.

“Easy Hotshot, let’s get a plan together before we go barging out there.” Jeremiah says, pulling you away from the door by the shoulder. “Originally I had planned on shooting to the end of this wing and meeting up at one of the rally points, but at this point I’m not so sure anyone’ll be there to meet us. The foundries are two floors down, which puts them a good deal closer to us than our other options, but the last report I got showed that the staircase between here and there is swamped with undead. Option number three is the rookery; someone else has probably already gotten a message out, but there’s no harm to making sure. It’s also the tallest point in the school, so it’ll give us an idea of what we’re going up against.”

At the mention of the foundries Vulf cracks the first smile you’ve seen in much too long, and his voice comes out in what would be a singsong tone, if his vocal cords hadn’t been replaced with an enchanted substitute. “If the foundries are near, then the Makers are near as well. It is likely that they are highly functional.”

Select one of the following:
>Head to the rally point. More friends are never a bad thing.
>Head to the rookery. You like the idea of knowing what's going on.
>Head to the foundries. While your current gear is sufficient, you could always use an upgrade.

Roll 3d6 regardless of your choice.

>>1094885
>Head to the rookery. You like the idea of knowing what's going on.
sounds like a nice place to kick back, relax, and direct everybody else while we get that sleep thing done.

Rolled 3, 1, 3 = 7 (3d6)

>>1094885
>>Head to the rally point. More friends are never a bad thing.

Rolled 5, 5, 1 = 11 (3d6)

>>1094885
>Head to the foundries. While your current gear is sufficient, you could always use an upgrade.
Shit I assumed taking first watch mean that we'd be sleeping in shifts, not staying up all night.

Can we have a look at the magic map, to see if anyone is at the rally point?

If we can't, or if there are a few people, we have to go and take a look

>Head to the rally point. More friends are never a bad thing

If we can see that the area is mostly deserted

>Head to the foundries. While your current gear is sufficient, you could always use an upgrade.

We are not going to do much magic-wise until we get a good rest, so we could use some better gear.

Rolled 4, 6, 6 = 16 (3d6)

>>1094885
>Head to the rookery. You like the idea of knowing what's going on.

Nothing is more important than information.

>>1094885
>Head to the rookery. You like the idea of knowing what's going on.

Votes called for heading towards the birds, writing.

>Gained Fateweaver (Sacrifice up to 5 tolerance to modify a roll by up to 5,) Practiced Elementalist (+2 to elemental spells.)

“Can’t you just check to see if the rally point is occupied? You’ve still got that map of yours, don’t you?” You ask, not wanting to dive into anything that you aren’t prepared for.

“The rally points are shrouded, to prevent enemy diviners from coordinating an ambush. It isn’t ideal for situations like this, but it’s come in handy before.” He shrugs, making expansive movements with his hands.

“The rookery would be the smart choice, then. If there are places you can’t see with that thing, maybe we’ll be able to fill in some of the blanks from its vantage point.” Vulf frowns at your answer, but he’ll come around. You can’t believe that the foundries are anything close to being lost; they’re too vital. Surely they’ve some sort of defense in place in case of just this scenario.

“Come on then,” he says, pausing for a moment to memorize the way before opening the door, “let’s get a bird’s eye view.”

By and large, the hallway is unchanged from last night. It’s the little things that you notice, details obscured by the flickering glow of the torches that are now laid bare in the light of day. A torn scrap of white cloth flutters on one of the chandelier’s arms, waving in a draft like a flag of surrender. Hurried footsteps dot the powdered stone, though whether they were made before or after your bivouac you can’t tell. Here and there, spots of blood the color of rust dot the walls, lending the area the air of an abandoned dungeon.

Once again you form up in a group, Vulf leading the way with as much caution as his frame allows. He appears to have lashed a desk to one arm as an impromptu shield, but remains otherwise unarmed. The air feels heavier than it did yesterday, despite the persistent draft that tugs at your tattered clothing and blows your hair about. A deathly silence is your constant companion, punctuated only by the occasional crunch of rubble underfoot.

Onwards you climb, the halls spiralling in a gentle slope up and to the left. If you weren’t looking for it you probably would never notice the incline. For all of its failings (and, given your current predicament you can name quite a few) the Academy is a remarkably well designed building. Sconces sit at the comfortable edge of your reach, offering the perfect balance of visibility and accessibility. The stone beneath your feet is patterned where it hasn’t been damaged, malachite intertwining red granite and basalt to form dazzling geometric forms. Caught up in your inspection of the building you walk into Vulf’s back, though you doubt he notices.

>Cont, (½)

>You rolled 16 vs. a Simple (DC 8) task - Success!

“What are you-” he quickly shushes you, a sound like a small avalanche issuing from his mouth. Waving one arm towards the wall he beckons the two of you to take cover, peering around a corner. Creeping forward, you catch a glimpse of an armored form, bones visible between the aged plate.

“-we are proceeding apace, M’lord. Within three days all fourteen foci will be under our control, and our plan may commence,” The skeletal knight says, addressing a small hand mirror with grave purpose.

“There can be no interruptions, Adrian. You have as much at stake in this as I. Contact me when you capture the Foundry.” The glare of sunlight obscures your vision, but you hear the man on the other side of the mirror as clearly as if he was sitting next to you. It sends a chill through your veins, and your hand tightens on the pommel of your sword. The conference evidently over, you see a gauntleted hand tuck the mirror in a leather purse at his side before beginning to walk down the hallway, away from the three of you.

>Tolerance Level: 19/30

Select one of the following:
>Sneak up behind him and end this before it begins. Any wrench you can throw in their plans benefits you immensely. Roll 3d6+1 (Lightly Wounded, Apprentice Duelist, Initiative, Surprise!) against a Mundane DC.
>Why bother getting close? Spear him with flame from here. Roll 3d6+3 (Lightly Wounded, Practiced Elementalist, Initiative, Surprise!) against a Mundane DC. Gain +5 Tolerance.
>Just sneak past. You have your own destination to get to. Roll 3d6 against a Complex DC.
>Write-in.

>>1095074
>Sneak up behind him and end this before it begins. Any wrench you can throw in their plans benefits you immensely. Roll 3d6+1 (Lightly Wounded, Apprentice Duelist, Initiative, Surprise!) against a Mundane DC.
mirror seems important

Rolled 5, 2, 6 = 13 (3d6)

>>1095074
>>Sneak up behind him and end this before it begins. Any wrench you can throw in their plans benefits you immensely. Roll 3d6+1 (Lightly Wounded, Apprentice Duelist, Initiative, Surprise!) against a Mundane DC.

>>1095074
>Sneak up behind him and end this before it begins. Any wrench you can throw in their plans benefits you immensely. Roll 3d6+1 (Lightly Wounded, Apprentice Duelist, Initiative, Surprise!) against a Mundane DC.

Rolled 4, 3, 5 = 12 (3d6)

>>1095090

>>1095072
How does Fateweaver works, we fail roll and vote if we want to spend some tolerance? Does this apply to magic only or everything?

Rolled 5, 4, 3 + 1 = 13 (3d6 + 1)

>>1095074

>>1095103
>Sneak up behind him and end this before it begins. Any wrench you can throw in their plans benefits you immensely. Roll 3d6+1 (Lightly Wounded, Apprentice Duelist, Initiative, Surprise!) against a Mundane DC.
forgot my vote

>>1095094
Correct. If a roll is failed, you may vote to spend up to 5 Tolerance to improve it by up to 5 points.

As long as you have access to a source of magic, Fateweaver may be used to augment any action.

>>1095213
That is insanely usefull!
Any way we can increase our tolerance?

>Sneak up behind him and end this before it begins. Any wrench you can throw in their plans benefits you immensely. Roll 3d6+1 (Lightly Wounded, Apprentice Duelist, Initiative, Surprise!) against a Mundane DC.

But i don't think we can just take him down like that.
The two Guys should be ready for our inevitable retreat. maybe we can Hit him and quickly fall back into cover somewhere in reach of Vulf.
Theres no way hes going to sneak with us.

Rolled 2, 1, 2 + 1 = 6 (3d6 + 1)

>>1095388

Rolled 4, 4, 2 + 2 = 12 (3d6 + 2)

Calling votes for sneaky stabbings.

>>1095388
Traits like Catharsis (and it's improved iterations, Release and Requiem) allow you to reduce your Tolerance Level without sleeping. Some of the team traits that follow Fateweaver (such as Fade-Touched and Wyrd Fate) allow you to up your Tolerance amount.

Improving any school of magic to Adept or above adds +5 to your Tolerance as well.

You wince at the rasp of steel scraping against steel, waiting for your quarry to sound the alarm. You toss an almost-sincere grin at your companions before creeping around the corner. He’s made it further than you had expected, but he’s as clueless as ever.

>You rolled 13 vs. a Mundane (DC 13) Task - Success!

The clanking of his armor covers your approach. You stalk him with one eye on the floor, stepping over shattered glass and cracked stone alike. He stops for a moment, pulling a slip of paper from his belt. Your heart in your chest, you strike.

>He rolled a 12 vs. your 13 in a contested roll - Success!

Your left hand seizes him by his gorget as you dart forward, thrusting your rapier through the back of his cuirass with as much force as you can muster. Your rapier sinks through the aged steel with limited difficulty, glancing off a vertebrae and lodging within his chest. He jerks once and goes still, dropping to the ground in a clamor of steel.

“All clear,” you call, stooping down to pick up the mirror. It’s an ancient thing, the silver backing long ago tarnished into worthlessness. Turning it this way and that, the light gleams off of intricate floral patterns, but you can’t find any obvious way to activate it.

“Beginner’s luck,” Jeremiah grins, nudging the body with his boot. “May I?”

You hand over the mirror without protest. Surely he’s more experienced than you with things like this. Minutes pass as he fiddles with it, his brow creasing with frustration.

“It’s junk,” he declares. “Probably one-way only. Come on, we’ve got places to be.”

“This would be my area of expertise,” Vulf declares, extending one plate-sized hand. “If you’d please.”

It clearly becomes apparent that he’s spent a good deal of time working with objects like this, his fingers surprisingly deft as they skim across its surface. A rune flares momentarily before dying again, but no outward change occurs.

“I require better tools. The foundries have them,” he says, closing his palm with finality. “It would be prudent to go there.”

“No, we’ve decided this. We’re going to the rookery first, figuring out what’s going on, and acting accordingly.” Jeremiah’s voice is adamant, one hand grasping the handle of his hammer tightly. Three breaths pass before anyone says anything, though it feels like an eternity.

“Either way, that is still good steel. It may fit one of you.” Vulf suggests, his face set hard.

Select one of the following:
>Strip the skeleton for its armor, put it on. Gain Ancient Plate Armor (+3 damage resistance.)
>Leave the skeleton be.

Select one of the following:
>Side with Vulf; this mirror could be crucial.
>Side with Jeremiah; knowledge is power.
>Write-in.

>>1096167
>>Strip the skeleton for its armor, put it on. Gain Ancient Plate Armor (+3 damage resistance.)
>Side with Jeremiah; knowledge is power.

>>1096167
>Strip the skeleton for its armor, put it on. Gain Ancient Plate Armor (+3 damage resistance.)
>Side with Vulf; this mirror could be crucial.
damn vulf would've such a cool MC

>>1096167
>Leave the skeleton be.
>Side with Jeremiah; knowledge is power.

It's 14 actually, because +1.

>>1096167
>Strip the skeleton for its armor, put it on. Gain Ancient Plate Armor (+3 damage resistance.)
What could possibly go wrong with wearing plate armor that can be pierced by a sword?

>Side with Jeremiah; knowledge is power.
We're the ones who suggested it in the first place, it would be stupid to be wishy-washy about it now.

"Vulf, if you beg to differ can you explain what tactical advantage activating that mirror will give us? Is alerting the person on the other end that his plans just went tits up is beneficial? Let's head to the rookery, send a message and get an overview of the situation first. They are attempting to capture the foundry, they must have a strong force there if they want to breach it."

Guys we just overheard that they're mounting an attack on the foundry like right now, we need to go there to help out.

>no responses
...well at least I tried

>>1096167
>Strip the skeleton for its armor, put it on. Gain Ancient Plate Armor (+3 damage resistance.)
>Side with Jeremiah; knowledge is power.
>>1096382
we can direct OTHER people to go to the Foundry. That's surely better than 2 injured and one surly guy

>>1096699
what other people?

>>1096704
whoever we can find using the Rookery?

>>1096717
The foundry seems too valuable to leave it to chance like that.

>>1096719
we also just took out their chain of command?

>>1096731
Whatever man, we should be there to help.

So where did we land on the protags gender?

Votes called for taking the armor and siding with Jeremiah.

>>1097099
Female, with me using gender-specifc pronouns as infrequently as possible.

You shake your head as you crouch over the corpse, fingers fumbling in search of a clasp. “We’ve been over this, Vulf. If we get to the rookery, we’ll know what’s going on. It makes sense.” A glance over your shoulder presents to you a sullen and unconvinced behemoth, so you change tack. “We can get help. Enough help to break the assault on the foundries, more than we could.”

“The foundries require no assistance,” he says, but the bravado rings hollow, and he hurries over to assist you.

>Cont, (1/2)

File: AncientPlateArmor.jpg (95 KB, 800x1009)

95 KB JPG

>>1097649
Within the armor you find a skull and little else. A layer of dust coats the interior, though you can’t begin to guess how long it’s been accumulating. A ridiculous amount of time, at any rate. Enough to make you explode in a fit of sneezes when you put on the helmet, almost cracking your chin on your own gorget. It’s an embarrassing event to be sure, but the knowledge that you’re safer now than you ever were before you put it on shields your pride from grievous injury.You feel a little awkward, to be sure, but it’s nothing debilitating; a couple small jumps show that you aren’t totally immobilized. You try hard to forget how easy it was to pierce the backplate. You feel better that way.

>Gained Armored (+3 damage resistance.)

Jeremiah assists you with the last of your straps, cranking on the leather strips that connect your pauldrons to your cuirass until the leather squeals, lashing steel plate firmly to steel plate. Satisfied with his handiwork he nods, waving towards your original direction of travel.

“Nice detour, but now we’ve work to do. Come on, Princess.”

Walking in a suit of armor is nothing like walking without one. Though you know that it doesn’t make enough noise to be noticeable to others, it emits enough to be noticeable to you. The squeaking of leather flexing in its bonds accompany every breath, while your feet clank against the floor of the building, sending echos up and down the length of the expansive hallway. You’ve taken your cloak off now, instead attaching it firmly to your back like a faux cape. It billows as you walk, which makes it more than sufficient in your book.

Forty-five minutes and two blisters later you reach the staircase that leads up to the rookery. The door that conceals it belies the size of the room within. You’ve seen ballrooms that are minute in comparison, It’s expansive in the most literal sense, stretching farther that one would expect in every direction. Statues of saints carved in a variety of semiprecious minerals line the balustrade, each one conveying its own sense of purpose among those that walk beside it. Looking over, you can’t help but wonder what your companions think of this. You’ve fought (and almost died) together, but you feel none of that camaraderie you’ve read of, no sense of belonging within a greater group.

Select one of the following:
>Ask Jeremiah what he thinks of all this.
>Ask Vulf what he thinks of all this.
>Leave it be, you all have more important things to be worrying about.
>Write-in.

And there's the last update of the night. The earliest the next update will happen is two days from now, on Sunday evening. Look up OnymousPseud on twitter for accurate information on play times and the like. As always, a special thanks goes out to my palyers, and both comments and criticisma re welcome.

>>1097655
>Ask Jeremiah what he thinks of all this.
>Ask Vulf what he thinks of all this.

>>1097655
>So is this normal for this place? This is literally my second day here.

>>1097655
>>Leave it be, you all have more important things to be worrying about.

>>1097655
>Leave it be, you all have more important things to be worrying about.

>Ask Vulf what he thinks of all this.
Thats impressive! Whats your take on it?

Maybe hes got some Craftsmen's appreciation for it.
And he's new too. Jeremiah has probably seen it all before.

>>1097655
>Ask both
We can talk and walk, let's press on.

>>1097655
Plate armor does not actually cling and clang, but it's extremely ill-fitting right now since we aren't wearing an arming jacket and hoses, sure. I suppose we'll have to replace the leather straps or oil them properly because if they're creaking they are going to tear. If our feet clank against the floor it has either sollerets or sabatons and it is designed for mounted combat and is an extreme liability on foot.
Take them off and put on our own shoes again. Once this is over we'll have to get ourselves fitted for a sturdy pair of leather boots to go with it.

>>1098356
there's also the issue of plate armor being made to order. It's almost guaranteed to be ill-fitting, whatever we do.

>>1098366
Yeah, but since we were allowed to loot and wear it I decided to assume that this is a game > reality ruling and that it fits well enough so I only commented on the details. Maybe it's magic, it was some kind of death knight after all.

You reckon we can get it refitted at the foundry? If we do well it is probably easier to try to request that as a reward than to try to scrounge up enough money to afford a whole new full suit of plate.

>>1098375
>so I only commented on the details
it's always a little dodgy when you do that, because people can disagree on what part is vital and what part is easily handwaved.

I for one get the feeling that modifications would be a bit impractical for a presumably male armor refitted for a female. That and the whole "look like an ancient construct that was just recently killing students".

I say we keep/modify the gauntlets and greaves, but get a torso piece and helmet that fits better. Maybe use the rest for experiments. Golems? Mounts?

>>1098451
You know what?

>Vulf Bromsson; charitable enrollment. Desire to attain a certificate of Artifice. Motto: For this is the law of the jungle.

If the armor actually has some worth and isn't just rusted tissue paper, let's give it to Vulf and let him make or do what he wants with it. I don't know what kind of materials they provide artificer students with but this could be a good project for him, earn him some nice course credit and we have a chance of getting some real snazzy equipment.

>>1098471
that's fair too.

I know I said the next update would be Sunday evening but I have a touch of travel time to kill, so have a quick one:

"So," you ask, climbing the stairs, "Is this normal? For this place, I mean. It's literally my second day here."

Jeremiah shrugs, tapping his shield-emblem lazily. "Pretty much. Getting this much magic in one place weakens the veil between the worlds, makes it easier for things to leak through. It's why we have a student levy."

"A levy implies that you are called up in times of war," Vulf says, his tone somewhere between accusatory and that of a jammed waterwheel.

"Well. Officially speaking, the Academy is neutral in political affairs. But sometimes someone has a issue they can't solve themselves. Who else are you going to call on?" You can see the top now, the grand spiral staircase terminating in a simple door.

"So undead invasion, students getting cut down by monsters in the halls, that's normal?" Disbelief colors your words. It's crazy! This is a school, not a fort! Well, technically it is a fort, but you're not at war! Even if it feels like it, what with you carrying your sword openly between classes and wearing terribly ill-fitting armor. You're just a student, caught in the crossfire between people like Jeremiah and things like the skeleton that almost killed you.

"Terms of enrollment, the section on health and safety, third subsection. 'In case of extraordinary occurrences, the Academy is not to be held liable for loss of life, limb, soul, of any part thereof.' This," Jeremiah says, gesturing to the entirety of everything, to the broken statues and the torn paintings, the smell of the smoke in the air and the homunculi ichor that's dried on your sword, "can certainly be considered an 'extraordinary occurrence.' Even if it happens monthly."

He certainly has a point. It's stupid and bureaucratic and reeks of irresponsibility, but this isn't exactly normal.

"Besides," he continues, "we get extra credit."

>Cont, (1/2)

>>1101807
The rookery is a good deal quieter than you had imagined. You had expected rows upon rows of cages, each filled with a pigeon. Perhaps a falcon, or a raven. They'd be less practical, but not by much, and they convey a certain level of elegance. You had not expected fourteen stables, all but two of them empty. You most definitely had not expected to find a pair of young pegasi stamping about their stalls.

"I'm sending this to Everhold. They're the closest school I can think of that we're friendly with, off the top of my head," Jeremiah says, his voice oddly quiet among sound of papers rustling and an inkpot being uncorked.

"I've already written down what we know- ancient skeletons, lots of homunculi, etcetera. Is there anything else I should add?"

>"Make sure you mention..." (Write-in.)
>"No, that sounds good."

Leaving Jeremiah to tend to the message and step onto the balcony. The height is dizzying at first, but you soon adjust. Smoke billows from one of the gatehouses, and the northern tower's glass window has shattered. To the east you hear the faint sound of steel ringing against steel, followed by the occasional muffled whump of an explosion. Drawing your partially torn map you see that the dorms lay in that direction, presumably along with most of the student body.

One of the pegasi dives off the edge of the tower in a clatter of hooves, falling several stories before winging northward, white wings pumping furiously. Vulf walks up beside you, ponderously laying both arms between the crenellations. A moment later Jeremiah joins the two of you, surveying the destruction.

Select one of the following:
>Say nothing. There isn't anything to be said.
>"They need help at the dorms."
>"Why would they attack a gatehouse?"
>"We should reinforce the foundry."
>Write-in.

>>1097099
Thats nice but pointless as soon as anons see the first piece of lesbian ass thats raised in front of them.
You fucking lesbian lovers turned me homophobic.

>>1101813
>"No, that sounds good."
>"Why would they attack a gatehouse?"
Unless they're trying to let more of their allies in that way?
>>1102282
You're right that yuri is shit but what do you expect to happen when a character controlled by mostly straight guys is introduced to a cute girl? That said this doesn't really seem like much of a romance quest so hopefully it just stays like this.

>>1101813
>Write-in.
Anyone know where these foci they are after are?

>>1102282
Great contribution, high five!

>>1101813
>>no, that sounds good
>>"We should reinforce the foundry

>>1101813
>"Make sure you mention..." (Write-in.) the necromancy controlling things

>"We should reinforce the foundry."

As we know it's being specifically targeted

>>1101813
>>"Make sure you mention..." (Write-in.)
mirrors/someone giving orders
>>"We should reinforce the foundry."

>>1101813
>"No, that sounds good."
>"They need help at the dorms."

>>1101813
>>"Make sure you mention..." (Write-in.)
mirrors/someone giving orders

>>"Why would they attack a gatehouse?"
"Do they have reinforcements outside or need to escape that way? If they are unable to teleport in or out we need to hold the gates. It doesn't matter who we save if they overrun us the next moment."

New update in nine minutes.

“We should reinforce the Foundry.” The words seem somewhat hollow, but you say them nonetheless. The dorm is clearly under attack, which logically means that the forces surrounding the foundry have been weakened. Given that you don’t know how many belligerents you’ll be facing, or whether you’ll be able to handle them, or even if they truly die when you end them.

“The three of us, against whoever they’ve rallied to attack the second most important part of the Academy?” Jeremiah asks, scorn evident in his voice. “I didn’t expect you to be so keen on getting your name on the Monument.”

“With the support of the Forge-Constructs, liberating the school would be simple.” Vulf’s already turning away from the parapet as he says it, squeezing his shoulders tight to fit through the door that leads back into the rookery.

“The rock-jockey’s going to get us killed,” Jeremiah warns.

“The ‘rock-jockey’ has as much interest in staying alive as either of us,” is your response, following Vulf inside. The lone pegasus brays mournfully at you as you hurry past, the sounds of battle retreating. Someone curses behind you, and soon Jeremiah is by your side once more, muttering darkly the whole time.

Retracing your steps to where you encountered the previous owner of your armor is a simple affair. Most of the students have long ago left the area, either for the safety of the dormitory or the kindnesses of the next life. At any rate, you see no evidence of their presence, and are thankfully left to complete your journey unmolested. You notice that the skeleton whose armor you stole seems strangely degraded. A faint patina coats the surface of his bones, giving them the look of weathered copper. Suspicion rising you pull off one gauntlet, relieved to find that your hand looks perfectly normal. A little more scratched than usual, with three knuckles bloodied from your fight with the homunculi, but otherwise functional.

Where before Vulf had to be instructed to take point, now he surges ahead eagerly, his mammoth strides leaving you and Jeremiah struggling to keep up. A confidence born of experience guides his steps as he threads his way through a labyrinth of gates, doors, and vaults. The corridors here are considerably narrower than the main thoroughfares, with strange indentations in the walls every twelve or so steps.

>Cont (½)

>>1110717
“A safety measure,” he explains, “Full of sand. The walls open in case of a fire, trapping it within.” Somehow, the knowledge that you are walking between already-damaged walls designed to partially collapse and flood the corridor with earth fails to reassure you.

“There are three ways to enter the foundry. It is likely that the front entry is currently under siege. Entrance through the aqueduct is likely safe, but risks drowning. There is also a secret passage, but its location is uncertain, and it is almost certainly heavily guarded by golems that may or may not identify us as friendlies.”

“Shielded. Map tells me nothing.” Is Jeremiah’s only addendum, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

Select one of the following:
>Go through the front.
>Try and pass through the aqueduct.
>Try to find the secret passage.

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>>1110721
>Go through the front.

>>1110721
>Try and pass through the aqueduct.

>>1110721
>Go through the front.
Heavy armor+ fire specialization makes the aqueduct sound pretty unappealing and the secret passage may take too long and fighting golems would be extremely counterproductive

Maybe we could lure a bunch of the enemies back through this passage, use our fire magic to trigger the walls and bury them with sand, and then use an alternate route to gain entry?

>>1110721
>>Go through the front.

>>1110721
>>1110777
>Lure enemies through the passage, then collapse the passage
>collapse other passages in the same manner
>stop, consider that you've done your part, and get to saving students.

>>1111450
Collapsing every passage is kind of a bad idea since then nobody will have access to the foundry which would be really bad. Also I think we should focus on the foundry first since we're already here and we can outfit ourselves with better armor and weapons and maybe even recruit some golems to help before going to the massive clusterfuck in the dorms.

>>1111468
If they were built to collapse, then they were also built to be reset in a timely manner. Just.....not when there's fighting.

If we can bleed out the majority of their forces this way, the reinforcements can clean the rest up. It's not our job to personally kill everything.

>>1111777
What's the point of saving the foundry if we can't get to it anymore during the fight?

Where are my updates?