Lost and Clueless (We have Broken the Chains of Mere existance)

[Highwarlord]

A cold, sharp wind blowing across the empty, wasted plains rouses you from what seems like an eon of sleep. Your eyes open into infertile, dull-brown earth, and as you lift your head you see the dreary wasteland about you and a group of strangers, also just starting to stir. Your throats and mouths (excepting those of the warforged, of course) feel parched, as though it were days since you last drank and the pain of parched lips seems to verify this feeling. Your body below the neck still feels numb, though you can manage to look about by twisting your necks.

The land in which you find yourself seems bleak and lifeless. Almost no hills cut off your view of the grayish flatland’s horizon as it seems to merge with the bleak, overcast sky. As a second blast of frigid wind cuts into you, you notice a single dead tree around half a hundred meters from you of the same color as the dirt bend from the air’s onslaught. This plant would have seemed almost invisible amidst the uniform grey-brown of the plain had the powerful gusts of wind not shaken it so. Aside from this lone tree, there are neither landmarks nor signs of life in the seemingly endless wasteland that spreads before your gaze.

In much closer proximity, the scene is certainly more interesting. A group of humanoids, including you, lies in a strange pattern about a primitive well. The walls of the well extend barely above your head. A misshapen wooden wheel lies on a stone spoke atop the wall, a length of rope wrapped about it, with one end tied into a knot about the wheel, while the other end is split into four ends, each strung through a hole at the top of a deep and seemingly ancient stone bowl, making for a primitive bucket. The beings sprawled around this construction seemed to have collapsed in the midst of combat.

Two warforged lie facing each other, one bearing a bright silver color, the other a dim black. Both bear adamantium plating reinforcing their hulking forms. The silver colored one bears a sword in its right hand and a shield in its left. Though it collapsed forward, its legs remain bent and stretched, making it apparent that the creature was in the midst of sidestepping or possibly circling. The darker plated one bears no weapon. Though it, too, fell forward, the locked position of its legs make it seem like this creature was about to pounce.

A human dressed in flamboyant robes lies against the well, his hands lying outstretched. His ringed fingers are curled into fists, making it apparent that he was not long out of the fight. He bears a visible wound across his chest, a thin gash with large bruises above and below. The wound is closed and the blood has long since dried, sticking his robes to his chest.

Lying on the opposite side of the well, face pressed against its ceramic surface, is a tall human female in mithril chainmail. Though her hands lie against the sides of the well, her fingers curl away from it as though in some arcane gesture.

Lying less than a foot behind this woman, body turned sideways, is a bizarre looking elf. A quarter of his body lies buried beneath the sand, though what little can be seen of the lower half of his body is white, both in skin and robe. The robes covering the half of his body facing the sky is pitch black. Strange tattoos run along this thin figure’s form.

An orc lies with his back to the strange elf, a greatsword lying just outside of his grasp buried deep into the pale, white robe clad corpse of a human. This man’s hands clutch the side of the blade that ran him through. His mouth is sewn shut, and he wears strange greenish crystalline goggles as a band about his head. His eyes are a deep piercing blue that is now cloudy with death. Aside from the goggles, this figure seems to hold nothing outside of his robes.

Lying ten few yards away is a man clad in spiked platemail. His right arm is curled about his lance while his left holds a spined shield to his side. His legs are splayed open, as though he had been riding in the saddle of some creature prior to whatever it was that incapacitated this group. Curled around him protectively is a huge white lion, wearing metallic plate barding with spikes of its own. The silver fletching of three arrows juts out of this creature’s belly and the surrounding region is purple and swollen. A single arrow sticks out of its front left paw, and that limb looks swollen and useless. The wounded regions give off a vile stench that is thankfully pushed away with each powerful gust of wind.

Lying mauled five yards further is a second man with his mouth sewn shut. This man wears ringmail, now ruined, with metal the same color as the other dead man’s robe. He clutches a javelin in each hand. The one in his right is shattered and ruined while the one in his left is whole. The broken javelin appears to be of normal wood, while the surviving weapon seems to be made of the same greenish crystal as the goggles adorning the other dead man.

Lying seemingly alone, away from the other beings, is a savage looking human. His fists bear no weapon, but one leg juts outwards away from his body, as though he was frozen while delivering a high-kick.

A third blast of icy wind cuts into you, and you can feel sensation returning to your limbs and extremities. Though pain fills your body, it is overshadowed by relief at your ability to move.

[ixious]

Waking up, Kristis leaps to his feet. Brushing off his arms, Kristis notices a few new scars and smirks, "I may not remember much on what got me here, but it must have been fun to have these.." Hearing the words of Adrien, he looks around.

"If you know what we are doing here, go on ahead and talk. I do not understand this "please you", but if me refraining from leaving your organs to cook in the sun "pleases you", then take this as my tentative offer, for now, now talk."

[Dreamshifter]

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New posts start here

Asura's eyes snap open at some unheard sound, his ringed fists striking out at the enemy in front of him.

Except, they met with no enemy, and the strike unbalanced him, since he was't on his feet, but instead sitting. "Woah, woah, wo-aaahhh!" he exclaims as he topples to the side, landing in the dusty ground just before he can catch himself. Popping back to his feet a moment later, he dusts himself off, then realizes he is wounded. "Ouch, hey, what..."

Just as quickly, he clues in that it's more that he was wounded, not is. He shakes his head vigorously, trying to get things straight in his mind. Which leads to the realization that he can't hardly remember anything. With a heavy sigh, he says to himself (but loud enough to be heard) "Ok, so it's going to be one of those days. Wish I knew who ruined my clothes, these things are not cheap."

He looks around, still not quite all there. "Man, bodies everywhere! Wish I knew what was going on. Say, any of you know, by any chance?"

[DrakebloodIV]

Arising from the dim grey soil in a half sleep, Adrian instinctively throws off a blanket that isn't there. He stumbles around in a strange pattern as though navigating a house he knew.

"Withersworth..." Began Adrian, his voice slightly raspy from lack of water "Withersworth where is breakfast..."

The question where is Withersworth rattles through his mind. As he gradually begins to waken, the question Who is Withersworth gradually replaces it. An odd sensation permeates Adrian's mind, as though a vacuum exists in it where the name Withersworth came from. As Adrian awakens he begins to notice around him the other beings beginning to stir from their sleep. He then looks at the well. On this flat, endless plain it is the only object and an odd sort of reverence is around it. Taking a coin from his bags, Adrian tosses it into the well. He hears it clink against the side of the wall several times, and a satisfying sploosh finishes the freefall.

"I wish I knew what was going on" He says to the well

Looking over towards the corpse, Adrian grabs the goggles off of the corpse and gives it a slow frisk for any other valuables. Inherently curious, he also pries open the mouth of the man to see if anything is in his stitched shut visage. Afterward, he ambles his way towards his lion, giving it a quick search around its body to look for other injuries. He then gives it a full medical exam to the best of his abilities. He gradually works his way down to the ankle, working it around to the best of his abilities and trying his best to loosen and remove the arrow.

OOC

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Checks made
Heal DC 15 to remove movement impeding thing (assuming DC for caltrops applies to arrow) (1d20+4)[23] Sorry, typo. Subtract 2 from this roll
Str check DC X to pry open the goggled mans mouth (1d20+2)[16]
Heal DC to diagnose the disease (1d20+2)[6]
Search check to find valuables on the goggled man (1d20)[8]

[Syka]

Keir

Keir utters the last half of some sort of incantation, completing the movement her hand was frozen in, but nothing happens. Once fully awake, there is some confusion in her mind as to what she was doing and why her face is pressed into the cool (?) surface of some sort of stone.

She backs up to get a better look around, thinking it would help her get her bearings. Unfortunately, it serves to make Keir even more confused. The young woman furrows her brow at the gray elf laying a mere few feet away and the veritable menagerie the extends beyond.

"Can-" Keir realizes her throat is a bit too dry to make words without rasping, and finds the waterskin that is hanging on her belt. A swig helps, but it's not much more than a mouthful. She resumes, addressing her question to the elf, "Can you tell me what's going on? Where is this...place?"

Keir hesitated to call it a desert. Even deserts had the feeling of life. This was just a wasteland.

She had no doubt she'd was either having a nightmare or she'd just woken up on on the majorly wrong side of the bed.

[Waspinator]

Warden, the more silver of the two Warforged, awakens to see the various humanoids in their states of disarray.

"I am not sure what has occured either. I believe that my name is Warden, but cannot remember the circumstances of how I came to be hear. In fact, I do not seem to remember much at all."

Thinking to himself, he wonders what the conflict that seems to have occured was about. He does not wish to start it again if it can be avoided, however. Worst comes to worst, his great strength makes him enough of a combatant that he is not too worried about his own physical fate. His mental status, however, is a different story. He wonders to himself, "Have I been damaged?"

[Rising Phoenix]

Firae

In the blackness of dreamless sleep a flash of pain jolts across the dark water...

"Remember!" whispers a voiceWhen all sense of sanity abandons you remember something, anything! Remember your name!

He tastes blood and sand in his dry mouth. He feels the warm earth around him in partial embrace. He feels his muscles ache from some forgotten stress.

My name? he thought What was my name again? A name is a phrase given to something, often a living thing, to separate it from other things... What was the phrase given to me?

Darkness and light flash feebly somewere...

Ah...Darkness...and Light...Those two I know at least...One's the whisper one's the wisdom...that's my name...Firae Filuhar...The dark whisper in the bright wisdom... But who am I apart from a title?

Pain arcs through his stunted body

I can't remember?(!) How very odd... I thought I new myself very well...

Voices make their way to his ears...Angry, confused voices...

Danger...The querry will have to wait... Open my eye, survive I must...I must live to remember.

A pair of mismatched eye open and sand poors from the elves black and white robes and hair as he struglles to his feet. He looks around and nearly trips himself as he stretches his skinny body. There are humanoids around him...

"Who...What are you?" he asks is a dry cracking voice "Have I passed on? Has my lifelong answer to what death is finally come to be?"

[Highwarlord]

Adrian -

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The stitching holding the man's mouth shut is made of some metal and it his lips are tightly bound. Though the skin of his mouth nearly tears from the force of your pull, his mouth remains sealed. Frisking the robes of the man yields nothing further, and you cannot immediately discern the purpose of the goggles while holding them in your hand.

[DrakebloodIV]

After finishing his futile attempts to doctor his mount (OOC- You talked about the Dex poison so I assumed Fail), Adrian lifts his helmet and dons the goggles. He squints slightly and tries to adjust his eyes to the green shading of the crystaline substance and the strange refraction it gives his perception...

[Highwarlord]

Adrian -

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As you don the goggles, the band tightens around your head, biting into your scalp. The crystalline lenses coalesce into a dome shape, quickly eliminating the faceted view. Streams of arcane writings roll down your peripheral vision, but you cannot read any of it. After a brief length of time, no more words flow down and the last of the strange writing falls down from view. You then see three ovuloid shapes near the center of your vision, each of which is inscribed with arcane writing that you cannot decipher. They all appear to be floating in the air at arms reach away from you.

[Rising Phoenix]

Firae

@ Andrian:

What is that man doing? wonders the black and white elf immediately forgetting his current ordeal and walking towards the man and the corpse (?). He spies the goggles and him fiddling around with them...

"Would I be allowed a closer observation?"he asks in an ordinary, yet still dry tone"This is most peculiar, Why would someone sew his mouth shut? And those eyepieces perhaps, perhaps magical properties they have..."

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casts detect magic on man and he also uses the following knowledge skills: Arcana (1d20+11)[18], Religion (1d20+11)[19], The Planes (1d20+11)[22] and (what the heck) Nature (1d20+11)[16]

[DrakebloodIV]

Adrian attempts to swivel his head, hoping that the ovuloid shapes are some form of warping in the crystal.

[Syka]

Keir

Recovering fully from her (enchanted?) sleep, Keir stands, stretching out sore muscles and scrunching her face in response to a gust of wind. As no one else seems to be better acquainted with what is going on, she heads over to where the elf, man, lion, and corpse are. Most people would probably go to help the others or loot the corpse, as Adrian had done. Keir crouches down to actually look at the body, though.

Her fingers feel the skin, she looks into the eyes, lifting limbs here and turning the body there. She isn't interested in possesions, but rather what killed the man and how long he's been dead.

((OOC: I'm not sure if I would/should roll a check for that and what it would even be. She's more just like "Oh, dead body." than "Is there something important here?"))

Once she's done with the postmortem examination, Keir would turn to the elf and man. The man put on the goggles and she wasn't sure what happened after that, so she addresses both the elf and the goggle wearer, "Is everything ok?" Her glance goes back to the man wearing the green eye pieces.

[Highwarlord]

Adrian -

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The three shapes move as you swivel your head, always occupying the center of your vision and always appearing an arms length away. They make it fairly difficult to see, as they block out a significant portion of your view. The writing on them also remains constant and clear as you move your head.

Firae -

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Upon casting your divination spell, you are overwhelmed by the flow of magic around you. The entire landscape glows with powerful necromancy and evocation, the well gives off an equally potent glow of abjuration magic, and the sky itself seems to give off swirls of evocation and necromancy. In this overwhelming flood of magical energy, you are unable to discern any specific magic or lack thereof on any individual in the area.

You recognize that the sewing shut of the mouth is an act done by those fervent in some sort of cult, with the belief that it will grant them special powers, but are unable to remember the name of the cult or the powers that it promised.

If the overwhelming aura of magic was not enough to convince you of the unnatural state of the land, the fact that the earth seems suitable for life and that there is virtually no life in your surroundings clue you in to the fact that this area is entirely unnatural.

Keir -

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Your guess would be that the man died due to the huge sword sticking out of his chest(!). That's just a guess, of course.

[DrakebloodIV]

Adrian walks towards the girl, making his way slowly as to avoid adjitating the strange orbs in his vision. Feeling slightly awkward, he speaks with the enchantress.

"Hello, my name is Adrian, Lord of... something. What, might I ask, are you doing with this corpse?


OOC- Perhaps a heal check to determine cause of death?

[Waspinator]

Looking at the body and showing his lack of comprehension that stems from his unusual "heritage", Warden says "This person's condition is most puzzling. I do not suppose that any of you know a place where he might be repaired?"

[DrakebloodIV]

Snickering slightly at the automaton, Adrian began explaining with the slightest hind of sarcasm.

"While we might be able to perform a return of motor function to this humanoid, it would require a moderate amount of alchemical materials. Although admittedly there are such materials within your fellow androids fist. But even so, the 'repairs' would return only basic motor function. Reasoning and memory centers would require much more in the way of components and magical power and would be less than beneficial"

Finishing his explanation to the warforged, Adrian reached out and touched the right orb.

[Dreamshifter]

Asura

Since he remains confused and still can't recall, well anything, Asura heads over to the rest of the group. "Man, those are some funky glasses. They do anything nifty?"

[Highwarlord]

Adrian -

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Another stream of arcane writings flows down both sides of your peripheral vision as the shapes fade away. Once this stream of writing ends, you gain an incredibly odd vision. You can see red lights outlining the forms of your fellow living companions, the two warforged are outlined in a deep blue. The corpses are outlined a light shade of orange, and the dead tree in the distance has a similarly orange outline. If your gaze rests upon an individual long enough, the reddish outline dims, and instead you see their blood flow, as though looking through their skin and muscle. The various arteries and tubes of their blood is colored in the same red as their outlines once were. Gazing on the warforged causes another disorienting stream of text along the sides of your vision, but no insight into their functions.

[Tacitus]

Onyx

Eldritch power crackled along the many lines etched into the second warforged's body. The power lingered in the many gems that accented his powerful frame but it faded away just as quickly. Even as his optics flickered and began to give off their fell light it seemed as though a myriad of systems were attempting to activate but they lacked power. His massive right fist clenched and flexed in time with a rhythmic pulse of the black gems embedded upon it until the light finally died away.

He turned his stoic visage on Adrian and the gems glittered, "If you intend to harvest from my frame I will gladly harvest from yours... fleshbag." His voice was cold and seemed to hold a barely noticeable undertone that prickled at the base of the skull. It was by no means painful to listen to the metallic monolith speak but it was certainly not pleasant by any means.

He glanced around for a moment as his consciousness reeled with thoughts he could not truly claim were his own. He knew well enough that he was relatively undamaged and that he did not have the same physical needs as one of the fleshbags -he did so like that term- but he could recall nothing beyond coming online only moments before. He knew his massive fist was meant for crushing ribs and that the shield hanging from his arm needed adjustment. He knew he had several small tools in his belt and even some length of rope. He even understood that these tools were best used for opening fleshbags and extracting information. What he could not explain was a certain chill, a void somewhere in his being that he could not understand. With the gleaming metal unyielding to his touch and his mind clouded he could not search his body for the void and would have to wait for his answers.

[DrakebloodIV]

Focusing heavily on the chain of symbols to the left, Adrian withdraws his lance and etches them into the surrounding ground.

"Sorceress, you speak the language of Magi, correct? Come here and tell me if you can understand the writings these goggles purvey to me"

After having said that, Adrian reaches out and grabs the central orb firmly and as he does so he looks toward the dark shaded Warforged.

"I wouldn't be so hasty to jump to conclusions, lead-head, you are no monk, after all. Although admittedly I wouldn't mind harvesting your organs, there cannot be much to salvage in the way of a functioning brain though"

[Highwarlord]

Adrian -

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There are no orbs in the air to grab, as they have all faded away upon your selection of the far right one. The arcane text moves quickly when you look over one of the Warforged, making the tracing difficult, and there is no similar text when you look elsewhere.
//Make an Int check and a Dex check.

[DrakebloodIV]

(1d20-6)[12]Damn ACP
(1d20)[5]

[Tacitus]

Onyx

A metallic laugh echoed from his body, "You would be correct, meatsack. I lack such organs. If you go looking for them I'll have probably inserted yours by that time. Just to test them out, of course. I may even give them back." He was honestly slightly surprised that his words slipped forth so freely. Already he could feel further terms bubbling to the surface that were mostly just variations on fleshbag and meatsack.

[Highwarlord]

Adrian attempts to carve some symbols into the earth, but unfortunately they end up garbled and illegible. Even whether they are actually meant to be symbols of magic or merely some unintelligible language remains indeterminate.

[DrakebloodIV]

Having finished his crude sketch of several of the arcane symbols, Adrian tosses his goggles into his belt and puts his helm back on. He covers his face in just enough time to hide his embarrassed blush.

"Come then, let us see you in a duel. I doubt you can beat my skill with a weapon with your crude studded hands, not to mention your lack any capacity for pain will make leaving you on the floor begging for your life all the more satisfying. For then I will know that you do it out of cowardice, not animal reaction to pain."

Roll initative (1d20)[15]

[Tacitus]

Onyx

The warforged's massive right hand rises already balled into a fist with the gems upon it gleaming. As he shifts his stance to one that was suggested by his sleeping posture he seems to be staring through Adrian, "You do not want to fight me, pinkskin. I do not tire, as you will soon discover if you wish that I pummel your face for the next several days."

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Duel of Wills! Before Initiative is resolved we make opposed Intimidate checks. You may ignore it, giving me +1 to attack and damage in the first round if I make a DC 15 check. You may Submit, taking -2 on init and -1 on attack rolls for one round. You may participate. The winner gets +1 and the loser gets -1 on attack and damage for the duration.

Intimidate: (1d20+6)[25]

Initiative: (1d20+3)[12]

[DrakebloodIV]

Adrians scowl is hidden by the iron of his helm and he grows furious as his enemy prepares for battle, but he chooses not to stoop to the level of his mechanical Nemesis. Having already drawn his hammer, he begins to circle around the well towards his enemy, preparing to strike should his opponent come near him.

A=Adrian
0=Well
X=Onyx


* * * * * Readied action- Attack Onyx the moment he is within hammer range
* * * * *
X * 0 * A
* * * * |
* * * * |
* * * - |

[Tacitus]

Onyx

The mechanical warrior does not move an inch, staring at Adrian.

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What? He's not the one who initiated combat. XP Consider him in full defense until Adrian does something interesting.

[DrakebloodIV]

Adrian charges towards the Warforged and swings with all his might.

Take This Tin Man!"

(1d20+11)[17]

Adrians swing makes contact, but the strike clangs against his armor without penetrating at all.