Outside 47: [Insert seasonal phrase that will be outdated when this thread ends]

[KerfuffleMach2]

[Lakeside Field]

Summoning? That sounds really weird. What if the friend is taking a shower or something?
Still, Sam smiles.
”No, Teach. I meant what are you teaching me next? We probably shouldn’t start with things you don’t know how to do.” That would be a rather esoteric exercise.

[Lakeside Field]

Alysha seems to hesitate here.

Weeeeeell...beyond the spells and summoning? All I know is swordplay. I haven't learned any of the more advanced stuff yet. But even if I did, it'd have to wait till I think you've got the basic stuff down. So, we're gonna practice. A lot.

[Deathkeeper]

[Lakeside Field]

Sam grins, revealing his tusks.
"Well, swordplay I'm at least not a total novice on. And you can't be a worse teacher than Steve. He really did try, but he can't really show you much, just being a talking sword."

With that, there will probably be quite a lengthy bit of sword practice.

[Reinholdt]

[SCP 1194011N]

Tauron pauses a moment, as if confused, but then nods. "Of course, I agree to all those terms." He seems to at least have sensed her doubts though. "Your hesitation of my motives are perfectly understandable and I could stand here all day talking about how my ideals forbid me to make you some kind of slave. However, you are a intellectual and practical person so I will make a much simpler argument. Simply, that your mind is what would make you the ultimate weapon, Ilpholin." He claims with a gesture at her.

Then the artificial being gestures back at himself. "After being up against these monsters I quickly came to realize that I am a terrible commander and soldier considering how many that were lost only in the first confrontation. If I controlled you in some manner, I'd be sabotaging my own plan as I can't make the decisions that are necessary. That's why the world need you and not me to fight, you're the one that can and must make the necessary decisions. I'm, admittedly, too soft. All I can do is try to support you in whatever way I can. Perhaps I can work with this mister squiggle if he was the one that did your last set of upgrades."

[SCP 1194011N]

It made sense. Tauron didn't just need a soldier. He needed a general. An ultimate weapon could do more than simply follow orders. That was certainly one interpretation at least. A preferable one to the alternatives.

"That would be ideal, if there's time for it. It certainly wouldn't hurt to let Mister Squiggles know I'm alright. One of my mods includes a direct communication line to him, though for obvious reasons I can't use it at the moment." Ilpholin gestures to her temporarily flawless body. "And with all the interference of the battle I doubt a signal could get through anyways. To be fair, it wasn't just him who did most of the work. It was a joint venture by him and a Doctor who goes by the name of Xeyal. Xeyal knows just about every biological system out there and Mister Squiggles always was good with robotics and programming. I think he's up to two and half AIs at this point. Anyways, by request they..."

Ilpholin continues on, explaining her various mods in as much detail as she has. She understands their function and has a common, but not thorough, understanding of their underlying principles as was explained to her.

"You have my permission to proceed," Ilpholin wraps up.

[Recaiden]

There are a lot of dead people, yes. It wasn't much of a fight, but this is a battlefield.

The two magpie-kenku are carving into the side of beef, carving bits off and eating them, whilst the losing crow-kenku has moved over to a different wagon, and is emptying bags of flour and seeds looking for something it can eat. The fourth kenku is another crow, wearing a tattered black suit-jacket and a brown tricorn hat, clutching a dowsing rod as it searches another wagon, using the Y-shaped stick to find jewellery and other shinies, which it tosses into its sack.

The guy brings a hand to his forehead at the stupidity of the birds.
Even if you can't cook, aren't there perfectly good humans to eat?

He wonders for a moment about what to do. He's found plenty of useful things here. The humans are too dead to help him, and the elves probably too dangerous even if he could track them down.
So he approaches the dowsing crow and brandishes the wand at it.
"Sleep."

[Ashen Lilies]

[Dragon Mountain]

"Why worried?" Cassandra asks, continuing to tag along with the larger party. "Is the source of this fae power something you fear?"

[Earl of Purple]

Smouldering Wreckage

Not when non-kenku can see! They can stand being hungry for a bit longer before the antlered man leaves. He might have views about anthropophagy. Besides, the salted beef is tastier than raw human.

Considering there's twenty plus dead humans and only eight dead elves? They're certainly plenty dangerous. Unlike the kenku with the dowsing-rod, which has fallen over, deep asleep. That end of the wand seems to work, though he hasn't tried the other end yet.

[Recaiden]

He might. Though he'd have some trouble sorting out his views about anything right about now. He has particular reasons not to eat humans nor elves. Dwarves or hobbits or kenku, though...
But more generally, eating people is bad for the reputation and strikes him as a little unsavory.

The antlered man goes to snatch the sack of trinkets from the sleeping kenku.
And then he scatters a few copper coins from the pack onto the ground near it in exchange. They're shiny enough; surely the bird will be equally happy with them.

Are the other kenku going to mind this? Maybe he'll get to test the fear effect on them.

[Earl of Purple]

Smouldering Wreckage

The kenku have learnt that being caught eating people is bad for reputation. And they've got a lot of problems with their reputation already, since they are scavengers and opportunists who can't talk much and have to parrot back random words and sounds until the other person figures out what they want.

The other kenku don't react to their compatriot falling asleep, though they are now all watching the antlered man. They're scavengers, opportunists, and cowards; the kenku he's put to sleep is on its own, and if he walks towards them they'll run and hide until he's gone, then come back for anything he's missed. Maybe follow him in the shadows and rob him blind whilst he sleeps, if he sleeps and doesn't find anywhere with other people first.

In the kenku's bag of trinkets are a lot of very strange things. There's a small wheel of cheese, a bottle of wine with a Cyrillic label, a bag of jerky, a pair of white fur gloves, a cracked pair of spectacles, the head piece from one of the elves, a collection of spoons, an opal amulet, a polished rock with a fossilised fish skeleton, a tattered book with worn leather cover, and a few magical things. A bone twenty-sided dice that can only roll a 1 or a 20, a monocle that allows the wearer to see magic, an indestructible glass bottle containing the mummified corpse of a faerie, and a small marble statue of a sitting cat that repels natural rodents.

[Recaiden]

The antlered man watches the kenku a few more seconds, but doesn't get any closer. Then he turns to leave, looking through the sack as he leaves, heading the opposite direction from where the caravan was facing.

He'll eat some of the jerky right away.
The cheese is less trustworthy. Can he even eat cheese?
The wine...not now.
The gloves will come in handy when it gets colder, and look nice (not that we should trust his fashion sense) besides. Wonder what they're made of, exactly.
Shame the spectacles are cracked. He throws them back over his shoulder.
The headpiece still might not fit around his antlers. They do cause trouble, don't they?
Spoons - more than anyone needs. Bird probably just liked seeing its reflection in their curve. But some eating utensils is better than none.
Amulet - put on.
Fish fossil - probably saleable.
Monocle that gives a power he already has. $$$
Indestructible bottle?! Now we're talking. If he'd had this last year, he could have...avoided something bad? He can't quite remember. But there are sure to be lots of applications for this. And that little dead thing inside. He's never met a fairy, you see. But he can marvel at the size of it for a while. So small and still humanoid!
The statue is nice. He'll probably set it out when he camps, keep rats from nibbling on him in his sleep.

And finally a book. Well, is there anything written in it?

If the kenku do follow him, they'll find him eventually curling up between the roots of a tree, still in his scavenged clothes, to get some rest. But they'll find him a light sleeper. And more curiously, he'll seem a bit indistinct while asleep. Low-definition. Blurry, almost.

[Earl of Purple]

Smouldering Wreckage

Fur, specifically cat fur.

The kenku do follow, but the fact he's indistinct make them think he's magically protected, so they'll leave him in peace.

The book is a biography, hand-written in German, of a chap named Aethelred the First, King of Wessex. Probably quite interesting, if one reads German.

[Morty]

[Dragon Mountain]

"What's normal for a dragon, really?" Geber asks nervously. "This one is just more... vibrant, than most. It's technically possible, but it should have gone quiet a thousand years ago-"

"Shut up," Shayna says suddenly. "Something's coming."

The dragon skeleton is still breathing, but now another breath is coming from above, where they came from. The two breaths entwine and mesh together, creating a rhythm. The vibration of the dragon's bones becomes physical and tangible, matching the two entwined breaths.

Fog begins rolling in through the tunnel entrance they came in through, followed by branches that grasp the edges and pull something through. This something is a vague black shape, which straightens out to a tall, lanky figure draped in a black cloak, with a rat's skull adorned with antlers for a head. On its back are black brambles that resemble skeletal wings.

"No..." Geber whispers.

"Greetings, mortals," the figure says in an amiable enough tone, though its voice sounds more like a dying whisper than anything else. "I applaud you for getting here. Less so for stealing one of my erstwhile servants away, but I suppose that can't be helped."

[Recaiden]

Sadly, he knows no German. Only English and Draconic. Maybe just Draconic, given how the world sort of translates for people.

He feels better in the morning.
In the moments after he wakes up, the guy reattains high-definition appearance, dressed in his brightly-colored outfit and elven head-ornament, wand in hand, guns ready(-ish) to draw.
He has a breakfast of the cheese, dried meat, some of the wine, and then sets off towards the edge of the wreckage.

Judging by where the caravan was going, and where the dead were lain, he's betting the elves came from that direction, and he's going to search around for tracks or other signs of them arriving (and departing?).
He's just too curious to leave it alone like he should.

[Earl of Purple]

Near Smouldering Wreckage

He can find tracks of where they came from quite easily, about ten or fifteen of them. Eight died, so it was probably fifteen, as there's more than five sets of tracks leading away. They're fast and athletic; they arrived at a dead sprint, stopped to kill, and left just as quickly. Most of the settlers were dead before they could reload, if they even fired their guns- not all of them did, the ones closest didn't. Several times they appear to have done some unnecessary gymnastics as they went, flipping over the wagons and pirouetting to turn around.

It'd be truly impressive if they could keep up that pace and level of athleticism for long, except... It seems that they might have done.

[Recaiden]

Fourteen or fifteen them, he counts.
Six or seven left, if they haven't met up with a larger group...
And from the look of things, they're splendidly fast.

A shiver runs through him as he considers the angle of attack and jumps suggested by the prints and bloodstains.
He considers himself pretty fearsome, but wow, not in this way.
And didn't he get here by losing a fight? He seems to remember something like that. Or maybe it was a dream?

Well, no sense dwelling on the past.
He won't be able to play around if the elves attack him too, that's all.
He sets off following the more-than-five sets of tracks that sprinted away from the wreckage.

[Earl of Purple]

Hunting the Daughters of Khaine

The tracks continue for quite a while, with no stops along the way. Still, he started in presumably the morning, since he's gone to bed since he found the wreckage. So he'll have plenty of time to follow and find the place the elves stopped for the night.

It's a small shrine, of sorts, atop a hill. There's an iron statue, five metres tall, of a striding, snarling figure, clad in armour bearing an impractical amount of spikes, all on the sides of it- the outer thigh, and flanking the forearms. It wears a tall helm, with a pair of blades emerging from either side and a red tassel flying loose in the wind. Its arms are outstretched, the right brandishing a massive sword, nearly as tall as the statue itself, and the left clutching a stylised heart. A complex elvish rune is carved into the statue's chest, and it overlooks a wide, stone-lined pit dug in the earth, resembling an open-air arena. There's also a small There's a lot of traffic to and from this shrine, and which way from here the elves that attacked the caravan went is hard to say. There's a small stone shelter built into the base of the hill, marked with a stylised heart and elvish runes.

[Recaiden]

What a tremendous statue. It must weigh tons. So his first instinct, to knock it over, probably isn't going to be easy.
And what a waste of metal. They should have made something useful, like a giant statue of him. Or- that'd be silly, wouldn't it? He feels like it wouldn't work out well for some reason.
Maybe this would be a little clearer if he could read elvish. But probably not. The shrine seems straightforward enough.

Wand in hand, he cautiously heads to the entrance of the shelter.

[Earl of Purple]

Shrine of Khaela Mensha Khaine

Oh, I forgot that antler-man can see magic. The statue is imbued with some, quite a lot, but it's inactive now. Animating magic, triggered by blood and pain and faith.

Inside, the shelter is pretty empty. There's about forty cots within, but no people. There's a door at the back, probably leading to a storage area or something, but no magic is in the shelter.

[billtodamax]

Dragon Mountain

I'm being quite careful. Marshall says to Damon from somewhere on the other side of the dragon. He probably has it well in hand. He's content to keep drawing his circle - until, that is, the King shows up.

You almost failed Raum too. he notes. I gave him the strength he needed. The strength you would not or could not provide him. Whichever it is, it's unacceptable for Marshall. Or at least, he seems to think it should be unacceptable for the King.

[Recaiden]

A base of theirs. A statue they can bring to life with sacrifice. And space for a lot of them.
He certainly can't fight forty super-athletic knife-wielding elven cultists.
He gives the storage room a quick check.

[Earl of Purple]

Shrine of Khaine

Within the store room, there's racks of cheese, hanging meat from the ceiling and a well in the back. There's also a well near the back, with three four-foot tall hunched rat-people around it. They've all got black fur and wear black rags, and one of them has just finished emptying a bottle into the well. When they see the antlered man, they squeak in alarm and draw daggers and knives, one throwing a triangular shuriken at the antlered man.

The skaven who threw the shuriken is armed with a pair of daggers coated in magical poison; probably the leader, as it's the only one so armed.

[Recaiden]

Huh. I always thought Skaven were bigger than that.

Oh hey, magic after all! On weapons. Pointed at him.
The antlered man throws himself against the wall as the shuriken whistles by. That was close.

Then he forgets the sleep wand he's holding and just throws a bolt of lightning at the skaven leader.
Most people survive being struck by lightning. Probably true of most rat-men too, although they are smaller.

It's a shame; it looks like they just finished poisoning the elves' well. Clearly they were the enemies of his enemies.
Perhaps they could have been friends!
But now it's a bit late for that.

[Earl of Purple]

Shrine of Khaine

They're described as 'man-sized', use dwarf tunnels and the physical models are quite hunched-over. I don't think there's ever actual figures given for how tall they are. These ones are Gutter Runners, not Stormvermin; sneaky assassins and saboteurs, not front line troops. Smaller works better for stealthy, which is what these guys are all about.

The skaven assassin grabs one of its minions and pulls them in front of it, to take the blast. The shocked rat-man squeaks in pain and drops, writhing. The other minion charges at the antlered man, daggers raised. It moves really quick, and tries to hamstring the antler-man, hamper at least.

[Recaiden]

What a move! How ruthless, how cool!

Okay. Thirty seconds before he can safely use another lightning bolt, so...remembering his plan form earlier, the antlered-man aims the wand at the skaven leader. "Sleep"
And as for the other minion-
Oh. It's already slashed into his legs. It's quite fast. He falls and-

-explodes into dozens and dozens of rat-sized dragons, which pour out of his clothes and assault the minion skaven, biting and tearing like a school of piranha.
There is one little dragon lying dead on the floor, its blood on the rat-man's dagger.

[Earl of Purple]

Shrine of Khaine

The Skaven Assassin collapses and starts to snore gently, the electrocuted Gutter Runner joining it in unconsciousness.

The second Gutter Runner is immensely surprised by the explosion of daggers and shrieks, flailing wildly as tiny teeth rip away chunks of skin and the flesh beneath. It might get a lucky swing in, but there's nothing it can do to all the little dragons. It's dead, maybe not immediately, but still.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Dragon Mountain]

Well, that's certainly a sight, isn't it? Damon watches the new arrival with interest. He hasn't seen anything quite like this before.

...and nobody's started attacking anyone else yet! Here he is, all set up and ready to leap from the darkness or flee as necessary, he can practically taste the tension in the air, but nobody's willing to throw the first punch just yet, it seems.

"Dwarvess, you know who or what thiss iss?"

[Recaiden]

The other gutter runner should be dead soon enough. The dragons are hungry, and won't leave him time to bleed out from a thousand cuts - unless something interrupts them right away.
(Would it make more sense to eat some of the food stored here? Maybe. But it can't compare to a warm meal.)

If not, then the dragons swirl together and poor back into their clothes and stand upright as an antlered man of subtly different proportions than before. He stoops to pick up a couple of dead tiny dragons (members of the soldier caste doing their jobs, only a temporary inconvenience to lose them) and lay they into his pack, and one with a cut wing (it disappears into his hands like a drop of water into a pond, bringing a pained expression to his face for a few moments).

He retrieves the dropped wand and takes a moment to think.
If they wake up they may well just attack him again. And he's not sure how thorough this magical sleep is.
But they probably have information.

Maybe he can take away their weapons (the obvious ones, at least). He'll try that.

[Earl of Purple]

Shrine of Khaine

The the gutter runner dies, devoured alive before it can bleed to death. It won't be missed.

The sleeping electrocuted gutter runner carries three daggers, all rather crude weapons of poor quality. Good enough to kill somebody by surprise, but not much else. The assassin, on the other hand has a lot of weapons. A garrote is wrapped around its left forearm, easily missed. Two high quality steel daggers, coated in magical poison. Five more shuriken, all shaped like triangles with the lines overlapping at each corner. A stiletto blade tucked into the ragged robes. A shard of razor-sharp metal strapped to the tip of the tail. Two throwing knives. Four arrows; one, fragile and slender, made of fish bone; another, crude and brutish, barely straight and tipped with stone; one, wood, straight and fine, with Elvish carvings on the shaft; and one, fletched in blue feathers and tipped with a flame-shaped head. A foot-long blowpipe and six poisoned darts. And finally, three more vials- one of magical poison, like that emptied into the well, the other two more traditional toxins. The assassins stirs in its sleep, nearly waking, but the wand ensured the sleep was deeper than the assassin's usual, and even its paranoia isn't enough to wake it.

[Recaiden]

The antlered man acquires an armory of knives!
And shuriken, blowdarts, tail-spike, and poison. He has no practice with darts or throwing stars, but he can't doesn't want them thrown at him.
And arrows...but no bow? All different too. Very curious. He leaves them be.
He does miss the garotte.

They do seem pretty deeply asleep, huh?
He attempts to drag the assassin outside while holding the wand pressed against the side of the rat's head in case he needs to put it back to sleep.
This is awkward, slow, will probably wake the assassin up prematurely, leaves an electrocuted runner unguarded, etc.
But he hopes it will lead to the rat being kept captive enough to answer some questions without attacking him again.

If he finally gets out of the shrine and away from the other rat, he'll try to wake up the assassin.

[Earl of Purple]

Shrine of Khaine

The assassin can be dragged, and whilst it does wake up, it tries not to let on that its awake- no struggles to escape, or anything, until it's released, then it will try to run away. It didn't see the fate of the other gutter runner, the one eaten alive, so it doesn't know how bad an idea that might be.

The arrows are for misdirection and sowing distrust, not really for killing people with, although they can be used to kill in a pinch.

The other gutter runner remains asleep, for now at least.

[Shadowcaller]

[Tauron's Workshop]

Fay slowly, slowly makes her way outside, leaning on Tauron. But trying not to do that so much. Probably this will cause a fall. Any second now.
"Oh."
The light of the sunrise is the same, but the temple sounds so different now.
The newly upgraded angel tries to continue, all the way out of the temple.

The other angel follows.

[SCP 1194011N]

It made sense. Tauron didn't just need a soldier. He needed a general. An ultimate weapon could do more than simply follow orders. That was certainly one interpretation at least. A preferable one to the alternatives.

"That would be ideal, if there's time for it. It certainly wouldn't hurt to let Mister Squiggles know I'm alright. One of my mods includes a direct communication line to him, though for obvious reasons I can't use it at the moment." Ilpholin gestures to her temporarily flawless body. "And with all the interference of the battle I doubt a signal could get through anyways. To be fair, it wasn't just him who did most of the work. It was a joint venture by him and a Doctor who goes by the name of Xeyal. Xeyal knows just about every biological system out there and Mister Squiggles always was good with robotics and programming. I think he's up to two and half AIs at this point. Anyways, by request they..."

Ilpholin continues on, explaining her various mods in as much detail as she has. She understands their function and has a common, but not thorough, understanding of their underlying principles as was explained to her.

"You have my permission to proceed," Ilpholin wraps up.

[Tauron's Workshop]

It's a beautiful morning, birds can be heard as they fly between the trees despite the cold. The ground is covered in a thin layer of snow but it's still unusually warm for winter, the snow beneath their feet actually thawing. But regardless of how cold it was outside, Fay won't be too bothered by it. Her body temperature still raising after having to endure that much surgery.
"Perfect." Tauron declares as he simply walks into into the snow. "So white, so pure. It almost feels like the world is uniformed for once, at peace with itself. What do you think, Fay? How does the world make you feel?"

[SCP 1194011N]

Tauron nods. "I will attempt to establish communications then. But knowing all that, this simulation has fulfilled its purpose and will be terminated. See you in the waking world Ilpholin, you will hopefully dream peacefully until then." And so everything goes white as Ilpholin will return to normal sleep.

Unless of course she had other things to say.

Tauron will go about finding a way to contact Mr. Squiggles.