Camelot WW 2 - The Queen of Air and Darkness

[TheLaughingMan]

@TheLaughingMan: It seems that people don't really mind so far, but it's common RP courtesy not to write the reactions of other people's characters - of course, if they let you it's a whole different story! Granted we aren't really in a strictly RP forum, but I thought it best to inform you of the convention, just in case!

Alright. My apologies.

Feel free to rp my reactions, your epicness.

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Sir HypoSoc, having laid some nasty tongue twisters upon his small audience, decided to see what all the commotion was about. As Sir HypoSoc stepped out to the square, it was all too obvious a melee of epic proportions was going down. Before he could get his bearings, an attacker leapt from the shadows.

Why, it was none other than Sir NPC! Having been neglected for want of... intelligent opponents, he had finally found his prey. He and Sir HypoSoc sprinted to the shady weapons dealer for supplies.

"Sorry boys," the dealer said pseudo-empathetically, "but all I've got left are these two toy swords."

"It'll have to do," said Sir HypoSoc. The two grasped their new splintered weapons and rushed at each other with angered fervor.

Now, a shady weapons dealership have a habit of acquiring unusual weapons, and these swords were no different. In the hands of Sir HypoSoc lay the King of Toy Swords, a once proud and mighty ruler of all things toy and/or sword related. Over the course of his lifetime, The KoTS had been beaten, cheated, lied to, stripped of power, killed, revived, killed again, and then zombified. But that is another story.

All of it was all thanks to Sir NPC's blade, the Chancellor of Toy Swords, a wicked sword that vaguely disliked all things toy and/or sword related. Now, at last he had the chance to exercise his vengeance on the sword that ruined him. And he would take that chance.

"CLANG CLANG," The KoTS shouted as Sir HypoSoc and NPC fought. In the language of swords, this was perhaps the gravest insult one blade could give to another. Weak-willed swords might have fainted at the mention of it, but neither sword was short of will.

"CLINK CLANG," The CoTS said in reply. As their fight got more intense, so to did Sir HypoSoc's.

"Would you like a tutorial?" Sir NPC asked kindly.

"NO. ALL I WANT TO DO IS CARVE AN EXPLETIVE INTO YOUR FACE WITH A CHILD'S TOY. WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT," Sir HypoSoc yelled in the heat of battle.

"Welcome to Corneria!" Sir NPC said warmly in reply.

"GRAAAH," HypoSoc screamed in frustration. He gave one strong blow to Sir NPC, a blow that would be remembered for all time. When future generations thought back to this blow, they would weep in light of its beauty. As Sir NPC lay defeated on the floor, he shed a tear in honor of that blow.

"Any last words, NPC?" HypoSoc said triumphantly.

"W-welcome to the world of Pokemon..."

"What?"

"A-are you a boy or girl?"

And with that, Sir NPC... was dead.

The KoTS was also victorious. Now that the CoTS had been defeated, the kingdom of toys and swords could go back to being a peaceful land, and finally, the KoTS could go home.

"Cheeky ******." Sir HypoSoc said, and wandered off to the bar.

[Elder Tsofu]

((Somehow I missed that he was in full plate armor *facepalm* Now I have an uber-strong not-so-damsel in distress. ))

So you mean that you didn't intend to be some sort of fey or witch?
I thought I had dropped enough hints when I even asked you to fetch a few strong men to lever me up but it was more fun this way. ^^

[HypoSoc]

Alright. My apologies.

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"Any last words, NPC?" HypoSoc said triumphantly.

"W-welcome to the world of Pokemon..."

"What?"

"A-are you a boy or girl?"

And with that, Sir NPC... was dead.

The KoTS was also victorious. Now that the CoTS had been defeated, the kingdom of toys and swords could go back to being a peaceful land, and finally, the KoTS could go home.

"Cheeky ******." Sir HypoSoc said, and wandered off to the bar.

Mine eyes! They haf tears!

[The Cyberwolf]

Sir Cyberwolf immediately curled his fingers as he 'heard' Sir Tsofu call him an stupid witch. Growling, he splayed his fingers, the air rippling as each air segment was displaced against another.

It lifted Sir Tsofu off his feet.

"First of all, I am not a witch. I am a mage. There is a difference. Secondly, I am not stupid. I was just brought up with manners. And thirdly.... ahh, what the hell." He fired another air-blast at Sir Tsofu.

(Changing attack to Elder Tsofu)

[Lex-Kat]

So you mean that you didn't intend to be some sort of fey or witch?
I thought I had dropped enough hints when I even asked you to fetch a few strong men to lever me up but it was more fun this way. ^^

Nope. But she has changed, and I'll go along with it.

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While looking a bit perplexed at the offered hand Sir Tsofu grasps it in an iron covered grip.
And much to his surprise he is dragged up with such a speed that it was a mere wonder that his sword-arm did not tear of from the weight of the full-plate armour.

Still a bit dazed from the last few seconds Tsofu stares at his hand.
You can let go of my hand now.
With a startled jump (which is less noticeable in plate-mail, and just give the jumper a lot of bruises) Tsofu lets go, and bows slightly.
M'lady, you're full of surprises I see that - strong as two bears while at the same time graceful as a swallow in the evening sky.
Usually I would offer myself as an escort out of this mêlée, but I have the nagging suspicion that you would fare as well without me.

Looking slightly to the left he sees Sir Cadafael bravely swinging his sword in the middle of a pack of other knights, trying to use their numbers to his advantage.
M'lady, for now I have to go to the aid of one of my fellow knights - but in the evening I will retire to the "hens head". You'll be able to find me there.

Winking before lowering his visor Sir Tsofu doesn't wait for a reply but picks up his zweihänder and lumber of in the direction of Sir Cadafael.

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As you might have noticed it takes a few punches to catch Sir Tsofu's attention

While on his way he hear the anguish screams of Sir Cyberwolf:

That stupid witch, the one god himself is placing divine punishment by smiting him but he still believe that it would stop if he said "please"?
Sniggering slightly to himself at this just turn of events he lumbers toward Sir Cadafael with renewed vigour.

Nadirah shook her head slightly as the knight leaves. She then turns her attention back to finding her enemies for the upcoming archery tournament.

The panda truly was saddened having been shooed away maybe someone else would be willing to play with him. He walked around and was fascinated by those that were fighting in the street. He however was not interested in finding a fight.

So instead he hoped someone wold attempt to play with him.

Seeing the Zombie Panda waddle away sadly, Nadirah felt bad for the poor thing.

But not bad enough to go after it. She was not going to be falsely accused of being a necromancer.

[The Bushranger]

Fleeing Coward
Sanity702
Lex-kat

Lady Patricia stood quietly, watching the frantic goings-on with a sigh and a shake of her head. "And to think, they call themselves nobles..."

[Lex-Kat]

*Destroys evidence*

((I think Lady Patricia has a secret she's trying to not let out. ))

[The Bushranger]

((Secret? What secret? ))

[Griever]

Griever enters the arena, a sword clenched in his right hand.

A melee? How barbaric, there is no honor in a free for all!

After taking a few steps forward, studiously observing the havoc, he noticed a familiar sight... Sir Cadafael (Fleeing Coward), a very old acquaintance beset by several knights.

Abandoning all pretense of disgust at the thought of the melee, Griever jumps into the fray, pushing back the knight attacking Sir Cadafael (Castaras).

Now back-to-back with Sir Cadafael, Griever chuckled as he raised his sword, gripping it tight in both hands, "Just like old times, my lord."

((I'll point back to Lex-kat.))

[HypoSoc]

How long do days and nights last?

[Zeb The Troll]

Gah. I've been horribly busy these last few days.

Maybe I'll make things easier and RP a mute.

Sir Zeb leaps into the fray holding his sword as though it might bite him if he grips it too tightly and his shield as if someone had merely strapped a garbage can lid to his arm with rope. He turns to the nearest cluster of people and charges in, mouth agape as though issuing a battle-cry, but no sound is heard from him.

Fleeing Coward
Bushranger
Lex-Kat

(I think I did that right)

[billtodamax]

Zeb
Zeb
Murska

[lostlittlebear]

Day Ends - Narration to come.

[smuchmuch]

(Just to say, I'm here. i have just had idea who to vote on day one and the rules of mellee confuse me quite a bit. i'll try to get a bit of rolepalying soon, at least)

[Fleeing Coward]

Seeing a friendly face in Griever charging in to cover his back, Sir Cadafael relaxes slightly and refocuses his attacks on those directly in front of him.
Glad to see you're still alive my friend, now let's show these amateurs what a real fight is like.

[lostlittlebear]

Day 1 Ends

The first day of Camelot’s inaugural tourney was a mess indeed. Pie Tins fought valiantly with Armored Knights, Undead Mages mixed it up with Time Travellers, and a few dainty ladies flitted around the general combat, looking strangely out of place amidst the mass of sweaty men.

Yet even amongst the mass of seething, fighting humanity, there was one man who stood out – Sir Thufir, whose angry protectionist slogans put the masses squarely on his side even as his fighting skill amazes trained professionals.

“GET OUTTA HERE YOU FOREIGNERS AND STOP STEALING OUR JOBS- Er, I mean TOURNEY PRIZES!” he yells, sinking his sword viciously into a menacing tree and eliciting a cheer from the watching locals.

From the sidelines, a few retired tourneymen comment on Thufir’s performance.

“Egad! That man has some cajones of steel!”

“Truly – never did I imagine that there was a home-grown knight with enough courage to take on one of those monstrosities!”

“I don’t know how he does it! Frankly, the sight of all those branches waving menacingly towards me has always made me seek easier prey in tourneys.”

As the commentators jabber, Thufir wrenches his sword from the tree and stumbles backwards, knocking Sir Murska off his feet. This display of skilled swordsmanship causes the tourneymen to break out into spontaneous applause.

“Oh my! What a splendid reverse-footfall-unsheathing-strike! I’ve never seen one done so well since Peter the Flatfooted back in ’28!”

“Indeed! Look how smoothly he tripped over his own feet! Takes years of practice to get that good, it does!”

“It certainly warms my heart to see one of our own perform so well – with all the foreigners playing in our tourneys these days I was worried about how well our team would perform in next year’s Albion Cup.”

A noble next to the commentators picks up the last few lines and proffers his own opinion.

“I think you’re all focusing on the wrong aspects of Thufir’s performance. I personally think that we should be concentrating on the political message he’s trying to get across. After all, in these dangerous times, our government needs to put local jobs first, local companies first, and local interests first, lest we see a rise in the sort of dangerous sociali-”

THOOOM

“NO POLITICS IN THE PLAYGROUND!”

A sudden burst of lightning cracks across the field, transforming one of the combatants into Alarra, Avatar of Roland. Raising her hands, she sends the mighty hammer of Mod crashing down on the unfortunate noble’s head, reducing him to a cloud of swiftly disappearing atoms.

Sir Murska, still smarting from the tumble Sir Thufir had given him, seizes the opportunity to summon a demon through the fraying wall of reality.

“ROLAND! ALARRA! RICH! Oh demon, I call thee in the names of the old gods – heed my cry!

PFFT

I bind thee to me with promises three – of blood, slaughter, and Kentucky!

PFFFFFFT

Oh, Adept of the Better Part of Valor, come to thy master’s succor!

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT

FLEEINGCOWARDDRAWOCGNIEELFFLEEINGCOWARD!

With the power of thy true name, I invoke thee!”

WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLEEP

“It is I, Murska!”

WHY HAST THOU INVOKED THE ANCIENT COMPACT

“To give me aid in this here tourney!”

Pointing at Sir Cadafael, the demon shakes his head.

I FEAR I MUST DECLINE FOR ONE OF MY INCARNATIONS IS PRESENT

IN THIS CASE I AM BOUND BY RULES FAR HIGHER THAN THY COMPACT

“Then at least aid me in my revenge upon Sir Thufir!”

THAT IS POSSIBLE IF I USE MY INCARNATION

WILL THOU FREE ME FROM MY SERVITUDE ONCE THIS TASK IS DONE

“Yes!”

SWEAR IT

“I swear to thee by the three-post rule, the Mods’ red text and the auto-lynch which is the doom of us all.”

LET IT BE DONE

Sir Cadafael shudders as a strange, demonic force suddenly fills his veins, shunting his mind into a small corner of his brain. He can only watch helplessly as his body morphs, growing feathers, claws and a beak.

Roaring loudly, the transformed man barrels into Sir Thufir, abandoning all knightly restraint and honor in his inexplicable lust for Thufir’s blood. Sinking his teeth into Thufir’s helmet, he rips off the knight’s visor, before raining blow after blow onto his unprotected face.

“Hang on, you can’t do that!” shouts Sir Cyberwolf, sending a spell flying Sir Cadafael’s way. However, the spell rebounds off some strange magical protection surrounding the berserk knight, smashing into Sir Cyberwolf and knocking him unconscious.

Seeing the fate of Sir Cyberwolf, the other knights steer clear of the grisly scene, leaving Sir Thufir to his fate. When Sir Cadafael comes to his senses, he finds himself holding a hunk of Sir Thufir’s dismembered flesh, and wearing the crown of the honors of the day on his head.

After all, who would dare dispute the day’s honors with an Eldritch Chicken from the depths of the unknown?

Sir Thufir was killed by an enraged chicken lynched. He was a Noble.

Fleeing Coward won the Honors of the Day. He will be baned tonight. Just to clarify, there will be NO COMBAT during the Night Phase from now on because calculating damage has been harder than expected and I need a break .

(DISCLAIMER: Events in the Narration in no way reflect actual gameplay.)

Night 1 Begins

HP Values (all those not included still have full HP):

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Atreyu - 18
Calar - 24
Castaras - 10
Deathslayer7 - 15
Elder Tsofu - 16
Eternal Drifter - 27
Introbulus - 10
Lex-kat - 12
Sanity702 - 20
The Cyberwolf - 0 (rejoins on Day 3 at full HP)
Thufir - 29

Autolynch List:

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Atreyu (1 day)
Strategos (1 day)

[Elder Tsofu]

Just to clarify, there will be NO COMBAT during the Night Phase from now on because calculating damage has been harder than expected and I need a break .

After the booming voice faded away (with the accompanying green light-effects) sir Tsofu spoke his thoughts on the matter.
Fat chance that happening.

Giving Sir Cadafael double thumbs up sir Tsofu retreats to the tavern to strengthen himself.

[HypoSoc]

If you have 0 hp, would you not be able to take night actions and point at people or is it just lack of attacking and defending?

[lostlittlebear]

If you have 0 hp, would you not be able to take night actions and point at people or is it just lack of attacking and defending?

Lack of attack/defending.

The tourney doesn't really affect the gameplay of the wider game.

And I forgot to mention this, but wolves cannot nightkill each other. If the wolves target another wolf, there will be no kill that night instead. They will not be informed if that is because of a lack of votes or because they targeted one of their own.

[The Cyberwolf]

I still get to RP as if I'm battling, right?

[Elder Tsofu]

I don't see what would stop you - although I would probably comment on the unusual lack of of searing heat in the fire-balls and such.

[The Cyberwolf]

Shall we form an alliance?

[HypoSoc]

How long are day and night periods?

[Trobby]

@^: I second that question. Also...

The foolish fool of a fool snoozed snoozily on his snooze...er...sleeping place within his colorful tent. As the full moon shone through, however, a strange metamorphosis took place. His arms and legs grew furry, with a rich coat of brown spreading from his legs and arms and head, extending to his face and hands, which grew longer and more pawlike respectively. As he grew in size, filling out his cot beyond capacity, a large tail sprouted from his lower back, hanging lazily off the side of the cot. Yes, in no time at all, the daytime fool became a regular night time werewolf!

...But, since he was already fast asleep, the werewolf would cause no damage whatsoever tonight, and instead slept peacefully as the moon shone down upon his tired body.

He had been bitten by a werewolf about four months back, but because he always wore himself out during the day, he had yet to notice any sort of change at all. So the heavily-furred fool slept, ignorant of the danger he posed to his fellow man - though being a heavily-domesticated man, he would probably not pose much danger at all, even if he were awake.

(Disclaimer: Role Playing actions do not reflect my in-game status. Or do they? *DRAMATIC CHORD!)

[HypoSoc]

Avy-based char, Intro?

[Trobby]

[Eternal Drifter]

Wynaut, Poke'mon 360; the Bright Poke'mon. While cute, if attacked, it prevents it's foe from escaping and launches a devistating counterattack. It is not capable of harming it's foe outside of a counterattack.

Location: Mirage Island

Heh... Poke'mon buff...

[Elder Tsofu]

So, Introbulus - is that a confession to the beast role?

[TheLaughingMan]

Wynaut, Poke'mon 360; the Bright Poke'mon. While cute, if attacked, it prevents it's foe from escaping and launches a devistating counterattack. It is not capable of harming it's foe outside of a counterattack.

Location: Mirage Island

Heh... Poke'mon buff...

Eternal Drifter, make up your mind. Are you going to rp as Sora or Brock?

[Eternal Drifter]

Eternal Drifter, make up your mind. Are you going to rp as Sora or Brock?

A simple knight, my good sir! I just saw the Wynaut and got carried away... At least it's not a Wobbuffet... those can be complete nightmares for people to go against.