Homebrew system thread II, part 2

[Simon_Jester]

Larric thinks for a moment, decides to experiment by simply speaking in a conversational tone- see if he has the place 'wired for sound' through his own ears or someone else's.

"Not as such. Looking up a trouble I can't imagine you much liking- those strange, twisted animals. They're a menace, and putting a stop to them sounds better than arguing with any more elves..." He pauses for a sickening realization. "Wait. Don't tell me, back of them is even more elves."

If there's no reply, Larric will think of something else to do.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

The earthworm stands on end- wobbling slightly- forming itself into the shape of a question mark; then stands straight up on t's tail and starts doing charades. It starts bobbing around and doing distinctly un- earthwormly things, not many of which make a whole lot of sense; until it ducks for cover and starts burrowing for all it's worth.

It's the scruffy lunatic himself, with his sparrowhawk familiar perched on his shoulder; looks at the disappearing earthworm, bids it farewell, and turns to you. 'Actually, there's a distinct possibility they aren't. How much trouble do you feel up to getting yourselves into?'

[Simon_Jester]

"Hello again. Before I answer that question, I think I'd better break it to the others, something wrong that isn't elves might be a shock."

Larric begins rousing the others. "Wake up, Aburon's back."

[Fiji_Fury]

Dale brings himself to full wakefulness (assuming this all started happening on Laric's watch shift) and rises, stretching. He then takes a look at Aburon and feels... different. Dale can tell Aburon is strongly connected to magic (though he does not know the details of how) and this is somewhat unsettling (PS - that is a typical reaction for Dale toward an unknown person/entity that is magically linked). Laric seems to be at ease with the figure, so Dale will give the benefit of the doubt, but is going to remain watchful.

He recalls that Laric and the court wizard felt "Aburon" may have been involved in the light-show and battle, so he opens up all his mystic and corporeal senses to see what he can see about the man standing before the camp. No comments or reaction yet, not until he's had a better chance to gauge this man and what is happening.

[Kaelan]

"tell bushman to prune own shrub, Dirt sleeping"

OOC
Still manic at work, with luck I will be able to get back to more regular posting by the end of the week.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Admin note first; remember I said that I want the game to gradually transition from being your scrambling to survive to eventually, as you gain in power and knowledge, wind itself around you- from being a complicated and background driven thing, it moves to centre stage and becomes the PC's story? There are a handful of characters who have been able to do something like that, become powers in the world.

Aburon was the first. Rav, Danilo, Poppy, Bryon of the White Grove, Lorlen- that's more or less the roll of honour. The fascinating thing is that as a character- and some of this will be visible, dale doesn't know why, in character- he never really comes to terms with the fact that he's become one of the movers and shakers. He still behaves like a low level PC, ducking, dodging and diving, doing his own dirty work, even after [REDACTED].

Either that, or it simply doesn't change him much, and Dale can see that- the fundamental lines of his nature aren't going to shift with what the world does to him. What he does to the world will be a different story.

'Stop trying to shelter under mine, then.' Aburon bounces back at Dirt.

Dale feels a sudden flash of anger- how dare he be what he is, heretic, fake- disposer of fates; and just as he's starting to come to terms with that it gets replaced witha sudden surge of misery- the world is a terrible place, why try, what's the use?

The druid blinks. 'Something rather interesting just happened in your head. Do you want to talk about it?'

[Fiji_Fury]

Dale struggles trying to find proper words. He's feeling cast adrift, and yet pulled in "random" directions by something he can't properly remember. Contending with the feelings of grinding despair is a battle in itself, and not one he properly understands either.

"I..." Dale frowns and shakes his head ruefully. "These people have taken me in, but I have not been completely honest. I am not merely traveling. I am lost. Beyond the past eight or so days, I have no distinct memories. I have skills, but no context for where or when they were learned. I have my senses... yet I do not understand particularly how or why they work as they do."

Here he casts a worried look at Larric and Aburon. "There is something... disturbing about magic and those who wield it. Yet I can feel the flow of energies myself and I don't know why I should be wary of it in others but feel relatively at home with those flows of energy within myself. I have been having... moments of disturbing emotions and ideas. They rise suddenly as if natural but then... dance away from me. Constantly I am feeling disoriented and twisted about like a puppet on strings!"

Dale's despondency is giving way to anger now. It does not feel as natural as his unbidden thoughts about Aburon being a... "heretic, fake - disposer of fates", yet it is cutting through despair and depression rather effectively (if only for the moment).

"Something is wrong in this place. Terribly, terribly wrong... and I should know what it is and what to do about it. Instead I'm lost and impotent and... I am a stranger to myself."

Here he stops speaking, startled at the hard grip he has placed unconsciously on his sheathed sword and knife. It belatedly occurs that he might have said too much. He is starting to feel disoriented and confused again.

[Panzersharkcat]

He looks rather uneasily at Dale. He says to the magic users, "You're the experts on magic. Though I am willing to press on, if you raise objections to doing so, I will heed them."

[Kaelan]

You are aware that Dirt technically qualifies as a magic user...

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

'Oh, this is more to do with religion than magic.' Aburon says. 'Could you pull down the neck of your tunic? There should be a burn mark.' There is a scar, certainly. Just where a holy symbol might be. 'Thought so. Do you want the good news first? What happened to you wasn't your fault, not your responsibility and not your failure. You're an innocent man.

The bad news is, that makes it a lot more difficult to fix. Do you know much about how the gods work- yours, that is? They're as hard to physically pin down as a truth. In a way, they're everywhere, so they can't actually be in any one place; not without neglecting the others- they work through a hierarchy, a network of beings, call them demons or angels depending on which side they're on- or which side of them you're on.

All the way down from the god's right hand to tiny little sparks of guardian angel not even powerful enough to twitch your conscience most of the time, and all the scale in between. The small ones are just functions, things done and doers of them; the larger have names and mythologies, intellects and motivations- and flaws and foibles- of their own, in degree of their stature.

Remember, this is very much an outsider's guess, but for what it's worth- I think your patron daemon lost the plot. What happened in the invasion was traumatic enough for human society, it's no surprise the forces of religion trying to hold it together felt the strain. If they're enough like us to care, they're enough like us to go mad- you got caught in the backlash of your patron's agony. I think. Although I am definitely the wrong person to ask about putting an archangel back together again.

This place, I don't think is the primary problem- I'm going to do a bit of scouting around to see how practical what I have in mind is, should be back before dawn. If anything happens that you need me for, drum on the ground, yes Dirt I mean the ground, and if an earthworm sticks its' head up, talk to it.'

[Panzersharkcat]

(OOC: Then he's speaking to Dirt as well or being an insensitive ass. Take your pick.)

[Fiji_Fury]

Dale reacts to Aburon's explanation with obvious skepticism, and a little bit of disdain. Then he touches the scar on his neck and a more thoughtful look crosses his face. Confusion still seems to be warring with other emotions, but just maybe Aburon is correct...?

"Yet my memories. They are vague and distorted. Why should that be? Even if you are right, why is my mind effected this way?"

Edit: the line is a little more rhetorical than direct given that Aburon is leaving at the moment.

[Simon_Jester]

Larric looks at Dale, a warmth layered over a thin veneer of wariness, layered over concern. He just had a horrible image of what that would be like to experience, or at least a close analogy for him.

"If... if something took natural philosophy and pulled it out of my head-" wince- "I'd be left with scrambled brains, and no mistake. If the druid's right, a big part of who you are got stirred into a mess, and anything that was tied to it before would be stirred with it. Like where you were two weeks ago, and why you were doing it, and what you thought about doing it..."

[edited in]

"How much do you remember about the land, the people, what things were like years and years ago?"

[Fiji_Fury]

You can see Dale flinch at the question.

"Broad things... language, a general sense of direction and some of the people. I know the land was ravaged recently and while everything seems on the tip of my tongue, it keeps slipping away. The past few days have been solid. Complete. But beyond that everything is vague and confused. Mad though it is to travel with strangers toward every sign of danger nearby, I am with you because here at least I am beginning to feel a sense of purpose again. Anything is better than wandering alone and lost."

While saying this his eyes have fallen and he is grinding out the last admission while staring at the ground between you.

"I know things like many of those prayers for the dead from last night. The flute. My knives and sword. But... those seem reflexive. Any thoughts of what Aburon termed 'religion' are turbulent and... dark. This is shameful, but I am adrift. Please... please don't cast me out."

[Simon_Jester]

Larric pats him on the back.

"You seem a decent fellow. It'd be a pity to do that at a time like this- besides, if you can handle yourself in a fight we'd be fools to."

[Kaelan]

OOC
Work surge has finally ended . Will now be posting on a more regular basis (and hopefully longer posts as well when required).

IC

Dirt looks at Dale again, running thru a quick mental check list

1 – Human who needs growing
2 – Not a child so no parental complaints
3 – Looking for people to travel with
4 – Not adverse to dangerous situations and armed
5 – Appears to be toilet trained.
Summary - We have a winner for the countess human growing plan.

“Forget past. Can not change past unless powerful dumb mage. Future and Now more important. Decide who now, not who when.” Looking at how edgy and rough Dale appears to be he will try to offer more words of encouragement.

“You no lost, you standing here in wood. Hill that way”, pointing to the mountains,” ‘uman town”, pointing to Qulan. “You not alone, we here. Stay with dirt you not be alone. Dirt make good food to make you strong. Put hair on arse like you have on face. Make you lucky with lady. And if you dead, Dirt eat so spirit not alone but with Dirt.” Looking carefully at Dale’s head with a careful eye “Will play music in honour of death. Sound carry all round hill.”

Satisfied that he has calmed and bonded with this new human traveller and made him feel part of the group he will look at the worm to see what it’s doing now. Spoiler

Either Dale will take this in his stride of be heading for the hills
Still waiting on our next XP spend to improve Dirts understanding on human culture - unsubtle hint......

“Bushman not enemy of group. Has not tried to kill us, only hurt poor heads”.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Not sure about Dale, but you've got me worried...

The bit about death and spirits is such a total and complete mismatch with Dale's former life that it jolts another couple of flashbulb memories. One of them is of conducting a funeral.

He's officiating, looking slightly squint out of his own eyes, head feels mis- set, a poor fit, he can't remember how to do any of the things Dale can feel himself actually doing- peeling, dragging, the spirit loose from the body, breaking and wrecking the links so the body will lie in peace and not walk again, picking up and carrying the spirit to it's just reward, fending off hands clutching at it, batting away tendrils of intent trying to interfere-

strange and uncanny, walking in realms of meaning he can only half glimpse now- make of that what you will.

Hint taken, yes. Maybe in the morning. The worm has, well, gone underground- takes one look at Fifi and dives for cover.

[Simon_Jester]

OOC:

Oooh, now I know what kind of priest Dale was!

IC:

Aye, let's hold off until morning and proceed onward to investigate the mutants.

[Fiji_Fury]

Dale looks a little dizzy as this partial memory settles in (prompted by Dirt's "consoling"). He takes a deep breath.

"Thank you Dirt. I need to think much more carefully about your offer. I... have different ideas about what should take place if I die. Let me think on it some more before we speak of this again."

He rubs the scar on his neck again, looking thoughtful.

"I have much to think on, and will not be able to sleep soon. I will take the current watch."

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Anybody doing anything before the morning? Actually, although I don't particularly like doing this while Feralgnoll's not here-

There's a shout from out in the darkness about three hours before dawn, 'Hello, don't shoot, it's me.' Rohal. I presume you're going to ask him about what happened, and his version confirms most of what you've already suspected- monsters driven before the wolfpack, herded and harried into attacking the elves, the druid there covering and shielding the wolfpack- most of the smaller lightnings were the elves trying to defend themselves.

Wasn't them responsible for the largest flash, though. That was a mixed bag of frothing lunatics from the Striking Phoenix. The explanation is quite disjointed. 'I saw them doing it and I still don't understand how it was done- none of them are wizards, none of them. Yet between them they added up to- I can understand feeling like part of a pack. What they were feeling was absurd- why such strange people should want to be one, I don't know, how they can all act together, it was...terrifying. Half the pack want to run away and the other half want him to teach them how.'

[Simon_Jester]

OOC: Panzer, any word on Feralgnoll?

IC:

"The cataphracts? We thought elves... huh." He shakes his head. "So much for that south-elf's word. Have you anything to tell us of the monsters? Are they some kind of accident, or is someone making them on purpose?"

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

'They're being made, but whether what's making them actually understands what it's doing- we got close enough to their lair to get most of them to chase us, and it didn't smell of mind. Most of them- it's like looking at a person and seeing nothing there. There's happeningness, there's moving power, but wisdom and pattern- it all smells heavy and dense, no light. I don't think who or what's making them has much of a purpose- not of their own.'

[Simon_Jester]

"Hmp. Something 'chemical, it makes animals strange... Can you guide us closer in? Which way, and how far up? I might be able to help sniff out a few of the details-" come to think of it, probably a good way to describe technical consulting to a werewolf. "Good job getting a lot of the monsters gone against the elves."

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

'We got close to it- I could. It's slightly west of up- look straight up to the mountain peak and a little left, about six thousand man- strides and as high as a thousand, open at first, then really dense undergrowth, then opens out again; an hour and a half perhaps. It'd still be dark then, and there are things roaming on the mountain yet. Probably would come to a fight somewhere on the way.'

What do the rest of the group reckon to this?

[Kaelan]

"Can't be worse than cave, and make head hurt less than castle."
Settling back down to sleep again,
"Dirt like go in day, not night. See what fighting better."