Chapter 3
Scene 1
Chaos: 4
Setup: So, I like the Long Journey rules, I wanted to have two more "training" scenes before continuing the plot. Next, I want a Sigurd training scene with Calliope.
The scene goes as expected, so, here goes nothing.
Is this scene happening in the tower?
Mythic: Yes
Random Event - PC Negative - Break of Travel
[ Scene: Sigurd is going to train with Calliope. Location: Tower rooftops. Focus: This training will be focused on movement spells so Sigurd doesn't need to depend only on his body when battling. ]
Calliope gazed upon Sigurd with interest as he performed the movement spell successfully, making himself levitate above the ground for the first time.
"Impressive", she murmured. "You seem to be a natural at using movement spells."
Sigurd blushed, his cheeks reddening. He had grown to admire Calliope during his time with the Order, and her words meant more to him than he would admit.
"Your enthusiasm will allow you to become an adept sorcerer", she continued. "Despite not being chosen from birth, with the appropriate mentoring, you can become a powerful magician. All you need is concentration."
"Don't sell yourself short, Milady," he stammered. "Without your wisdom, I would have never learned to master even the simplest of spells."
It was a fact that made him proud: He had overcome his lack of talent, and improved his skills through hard work and patience, leading him to finally achieving results. Still, the shadow of his own limitations lurked at the edge of his mind, threatening to engulf him and crush the tiny flicker of hope inside.
{Describe their surroundings}
The rooftop of the Order's tower was covered in snow and ice, and Sigurd could barely make out the buildings below. The sky was gray, and the wind howled, sending shivers down his spine. Calliope seemed unfazed by the cold, her hands steady, her eyes fixed on him.
"Enough of compliments", she said. "Let us move on to practicing movement spells. You will need to master them if you have any hope of defeating Nicolau Waltzier."
Sigurd nodded, his heart racing. Movement spells were difficult to master, requiring a combination of strength and agility, as well as perfect timing and control. Calliope had taught him the basics, and now, he was ready to apply them in real combat situations. The roof provided the perfect training grounds, for it allowed him to test his limits and push himself to the limit.
I was wondering if she was going to shape the surrounding environment to her will for this training, but I think I will just let the Ai decide on what the training will look like here
"Try to move to the highest point of the roof," she instructed. "If you are agile enough, you can learn to adjust your speed and control."
"I'll try my best," Sigurd replied, his brow furrowing with determination.
Aye, doesn't seems hard anough
The snow could passively hinder my action (+2), I'm on a calm situation (-2), I have an ally (-2), I have spells that could help my roll (-2), I'm a survivalist (-2)
DC: 9
Roll 14 + Willpower (2) = 16
Success
He concentrated, his mind focused on the goal ahead. Slowly, carefully, he cast the movement spell, pushing himself upwards, his feet hovering above the snow-covered tiles. Then, he gathered his energy and launched himself into the air, his arms extended, his body suspended in midair.
The wind rushed past his face, and he felt a rush of exhilaration as he flew higher and higher. For a moment, he forgot all about his doubts and fears, and simply reveled in the freedom and thrill of flight.
He reached the highest point of the roof and hovered there for a moment, marveling at the view below. The city sprawled beneath him, a sea of rooftops and chimneys, and the forests beyond, stretching into the horizon.
"Very good", Calliope shouted. "Now come back down."
Sigurd nodded and began his descent, adjusting his movements and keeping his balance. He landed smoothly on the rooftop, a grin spreading across his face. Calliope approached, her expression serious, but her eyes sparkled with approval.
For her new request, I decided to use my NPC Behavior system
basically, Calliope's miny sheet on it is looking like this
Descriptor | Modifier | Bonus |
---|---|---|
Name | Calliope | -------- |
Thoughts | I'm Cursed With Short Memory | -2 |
Behaviors | I Need To Defeat Nicolau | +2 |
Feelings | Determination | +0 |
Disposition | +3 |
Thoughts are something internal of the character, things that shape the way it sees the world, internal conflicts, etc. Behavior is the way it acts and reacts, feelings is the mood it conveys. According to Mythic Magazine, the simplified rules of NPC Behavior are, basically, roll 1d20, if it comes out less than 10, you add -2 to the character's modifier, if it's greater than 10, you add +2. Each descriptor you think will influence the roll, you apply a +2 or -2 to the final modifier, then you roll 1d20 again on a table of possible actions and add that final modifier to find out what the character will do, so their actions will be more or less influenced by their personality.
It's kinda messy, but I just used it to discover what Calliope will do next on my training, and I gotTakes Something - Frantic Mudane
Which I interpret as the following
"You did well", she said. "However, you still need to perfect your control and precision."
She waved her hand, and Sigurd's sword appeared in her grasp, glittering in the moonlight.
"Catch me if you can", she teased, and before he could react, she cast a movement spell and launched herself into the air, her hair flowing behind her like a stream of gold.
"Wait!", Sigurd cried, scrambling to his feet. He cast a movement spell, his energy surging within him, and launched himself towards the thief. He could see his sword glinting in the distance, and his heart raced with excitement.
The opposition is active (+2), I'm a warrior, not a scout or a wizard (+2), I'm in a somewhat calm situation (-2), and I'm training with her, so I have spells that could help on my roll (-2)
DC: 15
Roll: 20! + Willpower (2 x 2 = 4) = 24
As he flew through the air, he spotted Calliope, her robes billowing in the wind, her laughter echoing in the night. She was fast, but Sigurd was faster, his strength carrying him higher and higher, until he was level with her. He reached out, his fingers brushing against hers, and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him.
She struggled for a moment, but Sigurd was too strong, and soon, they were both plummeting towards the ground, his sword clutched tightly in Calliope's hand.
He braced himself for impact, his eyes fixed on the ground below. But as they fell, he cast another movement spell, slowing their descent, and landing softly on the snow-covered rooftops. Calliope lay beside him, her breathing ragged, her face flushed with exertion.
"Congratulations", she murmured, handing Sigurd his sword. "You have accomplished today more than I expected."
Sigurd blushed, his pulse pounding in his ears. He sheathed his sword and helped Calliope to her feet.
Will we train anything else now? (50/50)
Mythic: No
Okay
Scene 2
Setup: I sense some romantic interest between Sigurd and Calliope...
So, Chaos: 5
Now, I want training between Sigurd and Gooslymn. This must be also the final training before we go back to the main quest.
The scene goes as expected.
Is this scene happening in the tower?
Mythic: Yes
Random Event: Thread Escalates - Defeat Nicolau The Mormon - Usurp of Weather
The garden of the tower was a beautiful sight to behold, with its lush flowers and vibrant colors, filling the air with sweet scents. It was kept away from the harsh realities of the world outside, protected by the Order's magic. Sigurd had always found peace and solitude among the flowers and trees, but today, he was here to learn something new.
Gooslymn walked in front of him, his cane clicking on the cobblestones, his beard trailing behind him. He looked old and frail, but Sigurd knew better; Gooslymn was one of the most powerful wizards of Aidgard, his knowledge and experience matched only by his wit and cunning.
Sigurd watched as Gooslymn waved his hand, and the flowers bloomed, their petals unfolding like delicate dancers.
"Magic is not just about casting spells", Gooslymn explained. "It is also about control and understanding the forces that surround you."
Sigurd nodded, his eyes fixed on Gooslymn's movements. The wizard motioned to a rosebush, and Sigurd watched in awe as the stems grew and twisted, forming shapes and patterns.
"We can shape the energies around us to our will," continued Gooslymn. "The key is to manipulate matter, the elements, and even reality."
Sigurd stared in amazement as Gooslymn transformed the roses into butterflies, their wings fluttering in the breeze.
"Reality is fragile," Gooslymn explained. "And it can be broken with the right spell or technique. Nicolau Waltzier uses this knowledge to bend reality to his will, creating illusions and deceiving the eye. But with the proper training, you can resist his powers and break his spells. This will allow you to see the truth and break his illusion."
Sigurd listened intently, absorbing Gooslymn's words. He knew that defeating Nicolau Waltzier would require more than just his strength and courage; he would need to be able to resist the Mormon's reality-bending powers and expose the truth.
Gooslymn raised his hand, and Sigurd watched as the butterflies disappeared, transforming back into roses. Gooslymn then waved his hand, and Sigurd felt a strange sensation in his arms. He flexed his muscles, and the metal creaked and groaned, as if resisting Gooslymn's influence.
"Magic can augment physical abilities", explained the wizard. "In your case, Sigurd, with your mechanical arms given to you by Torke, these must be amplified with magic, allowing you to surpass your limits, and resist even the most powerful of spells."
Sigurd clenched his fists, his determination growing stronger. He knew that Gooslymn was placing great trust in him, and he was determined to live up to the wizard's expectations.
"For this training to work, Sigurd", continued Gooslymn, "you will have to go against every instinct you have, every impulse to attack. Magic is not about attacking and destroying, despite Nicolau Waltzier believes. It is about control, focus, and mastery over yourself."
Sigurd nodded, his resolve clear.
"First, concentrate", instructed Gooslymn. "Then, I want you to reach out with your senses, feel the energy surrounding you."
Sigurd closed his eyes, his breathing steady and calm. He felt the air around him, the scent of flowers filling his nostrils. He focused on Gooslymn's presence, the wizard's magic pulsing in the air.
Suddenly, Sigurd felt a surge of energy, his arms feeling heavy, weighed down by some invisible force.
"Focus, Sigurd", said Gooslymn. "Resist my spell, and break free of its influence."
active opposition (+2), Im not a wizard (+2), I'm on a calm situation (-2), I'm training with the order (-2)
Dc: 15
Roll 10 + Willpower (2) = 12
Failure...
{Sigurd fails}
Sigurd grunted, sweat beading on his forehead, his arms trembling with effort. Gooslymn's spell pressed against him, pushing him backwards, his feet sinking into the soft soil.
Sigurd resisted, his mind focused, his gaze unwavering. The reality around him seemed to shift, bending and twisting, and Sigurd realized that Gooslymn was manipulating matter itself, shaping it to his will.
Finally, he fell to his knees, his arms giving out, his muscles twitching with pain.
"Again", Gooslymn instructed, raising his voice. "Focus on your energy, feel the power within you."
Okay, let's do best out of three, shall we?
DC: 15
Roll 14 + Willpower (2) = 16
Success!
{Sigurd has a small success}
Sigurd breathed heavily, his chest heaving, his mind whirling with frustration. He remembered his training, and used his left arm to block the wizard's spell, shattering the matter around him.
Gooslymn smiled, a rare sight, his eyes sparkling with approval.
"Excellent", he said. "With practice, you can resist Nicolau Waltzier's magic, and expose his illusion."
{Gooslymn strengthens his power, warping all reality around Sigurd. Describe this.}
Gooslymn raised his hand, and Sigurd felt a wave of energy washing over him, twisting the very fabric of reality. Trees grew and shrank, flowers sprouted and withered, and the ground shifted beneath his feet.
"This is Nicolau Waltzier's power", Gooslymn shouted. "He uses it to deceive, to manipulate, to control. Resist it, Sigurd, and reveal the truth."
Gooslymn strengthened his spell, and Sigurd felt as though he were trapped in a dream, his mind unable to distinguish between reality and illusion. He felt his feet sinking into the earth, his arms pinched by thorns, his ears ringing with whispers.
DC: 17 (+2 because Gooslymn got serious mode)
Roll 1 (Oh fuck) + Willpower (2) = 3
Epic Failure
Something really bad happens? (Unlikely, I'm on the order grounds after all)
Mythic: Yes
Oooh... Fuck
Is it my fault? (50/50)
Mythic: No
What happens?
Complex Question: Thread Escalates - Overindulge of Military
Okay, so, in our context, even if it's not my fault, the critical failure is still mine, so probably it's related to my failure. I think what happened is the following...
{Gooslymn needs to almost overload his spell}
With a burst of strength, Sigurd raised his arm, shattering another layer of the spell, exposing the truth beneath. Gooslymn stumbled, his control faltering, but he managed to maintain his concentration, his power growing stronger.
Sigurd gritted his teeth, his arms thrumming with energy, his mind spinning with possibilities. He realized that Gooslymn was holding back, that he was not truly testing Sigurd's ability.
"Give me everything you've got", Sigurd shouted. "Break me, destroy me, shatter me."
Gooslymn obliged, his power exploding in a shower of sparks, reality fracturing, matter disintegrating, space and time folding in on themselves. Sigurd felt as though he were falling, plummeting into an endless abyss, his body breaking apart, his soul scattering to the winds.
Yet, he held firm, his mind focused, his spirit unbreakable. Gooslymn unleashed another wave of power, and Sigurd channeled his energy, his metallic arms vibrating with resistance, shattering the wizard's spell.
Sigurd landed in a crouched position, his arms outstretched, his mind reeling.
"Well done, Sigurd", whispered Gooslymn, his gaze intense. "Not many would have the strength to endure that spell. Your mind and will are stronger than you know, and will be useful."
This came with a prize, for the surprise of both of them, Loremaster Kovas comes with the news that this duel caused the magical protection of the tower to get disabled
As he leaned against the wall, panting, Sigurd saw a shadowy figure approach him. He recognized Loremaster Kovas, the wizard knight who served as the Order's protector and advisor. Kovas wore a simple tunic and trousers, his silver hair gleaming in the light, his eyes piercing Sigurd with their intensity.
"That was a remarkable display", Kovas mused. "Gooslymn is a talented wizard, and few would have the courage to stand against his power."
"Thank you, sir", said Sigurd, his voice cracking with exhaustion.
"But it seems that this duel has brought danger upon us", said Kovas, his demeanor shifting, his eyes narrowing. "The protective shield of the tower has been disabled, and Nicolau Waltzier knows our location."
Sigurd felt his stomach drop, his heart pounding with fear.
"What?" Gooslymn croaked. "How could this have happened?"
"Your duel with Sigurd, your exertion of magic, broke the tower's shield", replied Kovas. "This has alerted Nicolau Waltzier, in fact, he's already attacking the tower."
Scene 3
Setup:
Chaos fucking 6, good lord
This will be a energy meeting after that training session. Let's see what we are facing exactly, if we have time to make them go away, or if we will need to run away ourselves.
Scene interrupted... Ambiguous Event ( Pursue of Advice )
Is this bad? (Likely)
Mythic: Yes
I interpret this as if, when we reach the council room, everyone is reading the prophecy over and over again, trying to understand what the hell is happening. This attack wasn't supposed to happen, at all!
The members of the Order gathered in the tower's meeting hall, their faces lined with worry and concern. Gooslymn stood at the center of the room, his wrinkled face pale, his voice trembling.
"Nicolau Waltzier's attack is relentless", he said. "His armies of shadows have descended upon the tower, and our defenses are crumbling beneath his onslaught."
Loremaster Kovas stepped forward, his eyes flashing with anger.
"The Order's purpose was to remain secret", he growled. "We were supposed to gather knowledge, uncover the truth, and bring an end to Nicolau's darkness."
Kovas spread his hands, his palms filled with blue flames.
"Well, thanks to your recent folly, that purpose has failed, and our ranks have been exposed."
Gooslymn sighed, his shoulders sagging with resignation.
"It was never my intention to bring disaster upon the Order", he stammered. "All I wanted was to give Sigurd a chance to prove himself, to unleash his potential and fulfill the prophecy."
Loremaster Kovas' eyes burned with fury, and the flames in his hands crackled with power. Sigurd stood silently, his heart filled with guilt and shame, knowing that he was responsible for Nicolau Waltzier's attack.
Calliope stepped forward, her slender form tense with tension, her gaze locked on the ground.
"The prophecy cannot have failed", she whispered. "We must find a way to succeed, regardless of the circumstances."
"What do you mean by that? Is there a chance that the prophecy has failed?" Sigurd's mouth turned dry, his throat constricting with fear.
"Of course not. If the Prophecy fails, then Aidgard and its entire people fail, if not the World itself", Gooslymn spoke as a teacher to his student, educating him over a lesson. This wasn't precisely reassuring either.
Calliope, the loremaster's daughter, tried to assure him. "We can find the meaning of this disaster and we can keep on training."
"How? How are we going to train when Nicolau Waltzier won't cease his assault over the tower?" Kovas' patience finally ran thin.
Sigurd lifted his chin, his jaw tightened.
"Let the assault be my last trial", he declared. "If I pass this challenge, then let it be proof enough that I'm worthy of fulfilling the prophecy."
Kovas laughed, his face contorted with disdain.
"And what will you do, exactly?", he hissed.
"That depends", replied Sigurd. "What do they got?"
Is Nicolau Waltez on person here? (Very Unlikely, No is Favorable)
Mythic: Yes
No way
Is he using Count Grey's army (Yes) or going more overkill (No) (Unlikely, Yes is Favorable)
Mythic: No
Random Event - Thread Escalates (Defeat Nicolau The Mormon ) - Overindulge Elements
H-how overkill? (50/50, No is Favorable)
Mythic: Yes
The demiurge...
Kovas closed his eyes, and Sigurd felt a tingle of energy rushing through his body. Suddenly, a shimmering image appeared before him, a vision of Nicolau Waltzier and the Demiurge approaching the tower, their power radiating from them in waves.
As Sigurd stared, he could sense the darkness emanating from their presence, a rippling void that devoured light and swallowed hope. He could feel the sweat beading on his brow, his heart racing with fear and adrenaline, his muscles tensing with the urge to strike.
The army was an endless mass of shadows and darkness, shifting and swirling, their features hidden by the haze. Nicolau Waltzier was a giant of a man, his white tuxedo stretched tight over his bulging chest, his hands encased in gauntlets made of ice. Behind him, the Demiurge loomed, its wings beating against the sky, its heads tossing and snarling, its breath freezing the air in its path.
"The Mormon and the Demiurge itself...?", thought Sigurd.
He struggled to stay upright, his knees quaking. In his dreams, in his deepest thoughts, Nicolau and the Demiurge had always seemed like mere characters, like giants, larger than life, and yet so far away from the mundane. Yet there it was, flesh and bone, deadly power and destruction, at the tower's door.
Loremaster Kovas hissed like a dragon as he could tell Sigurd's unease and discouragement.
"Aidgard is doomed if the hero of the prophecy can't surpass his fears to defeat Nicolau Waltzier," spoke Loremaster Kovas's words with great sorrow and disbelief.
Gooslymn, however, seemed calmer.
"Sigurd isn't defeated yet", said the wizard.
Sigurd wanted to believe Gooslymn's words, to hold onto the flickering ember of faith burning inside his heart. Yet, he could not deny the immensity of the task ahead of him, the impossibility of the fight. Still... He wouldn't back out, he would risk everything, even his life, if necessary, if only to buy the Order a single chance.
"Alright, old man," said the big burly hermit. "Where are you and the Order will hide meanwhile?"
"We will escape using teleportation spells", answered Gooslymn. "Afterward, we will meet again, once this threat has passed."
{The tower begins to get destroyed by the reality-altering spells from Nicolau}
Suddenly, Sigurd heard a roar, a terrible sound that shook the foundations of the tower. He watched as a blast of magic shattered the stone and glass, sending debris flying, filling the air with dust and smoke.
Sigurd ducked, his instincts kicking in, his metal arms absorbing the impact. He scrambled to his feet, his vision blurring, his senses dulling.
Another blast struck the tower, and Sigurd could feel the ground shaking beneath his feet, the air whistling with the force of the impact. He staggered, his legs wobbling, his head throbbing with pain.
He could feel the tower collapsing around him, the walls crumbling, the ceiling caving in. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All he could do was watch in horror as, in the night sky, the Demiurge descended, its wings beating against the air, its heads tossing and snapping, its breath freezing the air in its path.
He could see Nicolau Waltzier riding the creature's back, like a king riding a mighty steed, his eyes burning with malevolence, his mouth twisted into a sneer.
He didn't have much time to think about a plan of action, he could just act. He didn't feel he could beat the Demiurge yet, but he felt he could at least keep them away from the tower long enough to let the order escape.
Sigurd looked back at the Order members, and saw the panic in their eyes. He steeled himself, and gave them a grim smile.
{ He will walk towards the Demiurge-riding Nicolau and try to talk with him }
"Don't worry", he said. "I may not be the hero of the prophecy, but I'll buy you enough time to escape. Now, run, I got this."
The Order members hesitated, their expressions uncertain, their eyes filled with tears. But Gooslymn nodded, and led them away, disappearing into the rubble.
Sigurd turned back towards Nicolau Waltzier and the Demiurge, his heart racing, his palms slick with sweat. He breathed deeply, and pushed down his fear, his desperation, his hope.
He raised his arms, his fingers curled into fists, his jaw set. He focused, feeling the energy pooling in his chest, his muscles throbbing with power.
"Hey, Mormon!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the sky. "Come down here! It's me who you want."
He will come down there?
Mythic: No
Random Event - NPC Positive (Calliope) - Befriend of Legal
I don't really understand what this random event means. Let's see, something can benefit her in three ways - if it is bad to Nicolau, if it helps to cure her illness, or if it means that her strategy is going well. Considering the circunstances, the first option is the more viable.
Befriend - act as a friend to (someone) by offering help or support.
Legal - permitted by law.
So, she comes to help Sigurd, but only in a spur of a moment, limited by the situation she is in - fleeing.
He could see Nicolau smirk his eyes glinting with malice. He raised his arm, his fingers closing into a fist, and the air around Sigurd grew colder, his breath frosting into crystals, his skin stinging with pain.
Suddenly, a blast of ice erupted from his fist, spiraling towards Sigurd with incredible speed. Sigurd tried to dodge, but he wasn't fast enough.
"Sigurd!" a voice cried, and he felt a wave of magic wash over him, a surge of energy that sent him flying backwards, away from the icy blast. Calliope stood beside him, her expression tense, her hands raised.
"Get out of here, you idiot," she hissed. "You can't beat them, not now."
"I know, but I can buy you time to escape," he replied, his eyes fixed on the Mormon. "Besides, I have a plan."
Calliope hesitated, her gaze filled with regret and sorrow.
"I can't let you do this, Sigurd," she murmured.
"Trust me."
She stared at him, her eyes glistening with tears, her lips trembling.
"Okay," she whispered. "Good luck, hero."
Before he could reply, she vanished in a cloud of smoke, leaving him alone. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing. Sigurd stood up quickly, before Nicolau could prepare his next attack, and putting both hands to the side of his mouth, shouted.
"Count Grey! I know you're here, you coward! I challenge you to a duel! Do you accept or not?!"
opposition is active (+2), my character is outnumbered (+2), the situation is stressful (+2), I have allies (-2), I have descriptors that could help me (a new descriptor, im the hero of the prophecy, -2)
DC: 17
Roll: 16 + Influence (2) = 18
Success!
His voice echoed through the sky, and Sigurd could hear the shouts and murmurs of surprise coming from the soldiers below. As his words faded, the shouts were replaced by silence, an eerie, terrifying silence.
Then, the air filled with a cold, chilling laughter, a sinister sound that made Sigurd's blood run cold. Nicolau Waltzier drifted down from atop the Demiurge, an unsettling grin spreading across his face. As their eyes locked, a shiver ran down Sigurd's spine, a profound sense of dread engulfed him.
Suddenly, before Sigurd could react, Count Grey materialized from the void. He stood atop the pile of ruins where Nicolau landed and gazed into Sigurd's face with his crimson eyes, smiling at Sigurd as if he were a child playing a game.
"So, you have chosen death, mortal", Count Grey's voice resonated, his tone mocking and menacing.
Sigurd could feel the vampire's power radiating from him, his strength overwhelming, his aura suffocating.
"I've come to challenge you, Count. A game, if you want to see it that way."
"So you chose Count Grey, thinking he's weaker, easier to defeat? What was your motivation?" Nicolau Waltzier smirked.
"Stop babbling," spat Count Grey, his fangs gleaming. "Name the rules of this game, or do you think that I, a mere demon, don't have control over himself?"
"I challenge you to a formal fight, me against you, in an arena of your choice. If I win, you'll let me live, the Mormon will have to allow the Order of the Golden Pen to continue to exist, and keep Jax County out of the reach of your... Winter Dragon." Sigurd swallowed, his throat parched.
Count Grey chuckled, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement.
"Oh, you are bold, mortal, bold and foolish," he mocked. "However, I accept your terms. What will happen if you lose?"
Sigurd straightened his back, his muscles taut with tension.
"If I lose, you can do whatever you want with me. I am the hero of the prophecy after all."
Does he accept? (Very Likely, Yes is Favorable)
Mythic: Yes
Sigurd gritted his teeth and adjusted his stance, his mind racing. Before Sigurd could utter another word, a dark wind rushed past him, sweeping him off his feet, his metallic arms groaning, resisting. Before his eyes, a black hole opened above, growing ever larger, spiraling within itself, a twisting funnel of gravity and madness.
Sigurd grunted in despair, his hands digging into the ground, his joints creaking, his breath disappearing, his ears ringing, his vision dimming. Then, everything went black.
"Challenge accepted, see you in the pit, human scum." He heard the vampire's voice, hovering in the shadows of his unconsciousness.
Scene 4
Chaos 7, and to the moon.
Setup: So, we wake up in the arena, I guess? I don't see what else I can decide here besides that.
The scene goes as planned. I will let NAI decide a bit how the arena will look like.
Also, I already got enough XP to level up! I think GREY's system is a bit too slow, so I will give myself the ability to edit one descriptor and add +1 to one of the stats. I will change the "Experimented Survivalist" to "Knows Spells to Break The Great Delusion" and add +1 to Willpower.
[ Location: Combat Arena (be creative on how it looks) ]
Sigurd awoke with a start, his eyes snapping open, his heart hammering in his chest. His head ached, and his vision was blurred, but as his senses returned, Sigurd found himself standing in the center of a dark room, his body trapped inside some sort of sphere. Around him, the spectators murmured and whispered, their faces glowing with torchlight, their silhouettes shifting and moving, their eyes fixated on Sigurd.
Sigurd looked up, and the ceiling above him disappeared, revealing a starry sky, an ocean of sparkling lights that seemed to stretch into infinity. Sigurd furrowed his brows, confused and disturbed. He moved toward the edge of his prison, and saw that it was a stone arena, empty save for himself and the orb, yet from somewhere beyond sight, shouts and jeers of glee roared in Sigurd's ears.
Sigurd glanced to his right, and saw Count Grey floating high above the arena floor, his cape billowing behind him, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. He glared at Sigurd with contempt, his red eyes burning with hate, his black aura pulsing with power.
Count Grey gestured with his hands, and Sigurd's sphere began to rise, floating upward, closer towards the vampire.
"Welcome, mortal fool, to my combat arena", spoke the vampire with contempt. "This is where I will deliver unto you your final resting place, where I shall devour your flesh, your bones, and your soul."
"Big words for a small kid," Sigurd taunted the vampire. "Tell me Count Grey, when I defeat you, what will you do? Cry? Ask Nicolau Waltzier for comfort?"
The crowd howled with laughter, their voices echoing in Sigurd's ears, their shadows dancing in the night. Sigurd ignored their mockery, his attention focused on Count Grey, his enemy, his opponent.
Suddenly, Sigurd heard a low growl, a deep rumble, as if something were crawling below the surface of the arena. From below, tendrils of shadow emerged, slithering and writhing, coiling around the sphere. Sigurd grasped his sword, his knuckles whitening, his muscles tensing.
Count Grey sneered, his crimson eyes glowing with malice.
"Let the combat begin."
So, up until now, our combats have been 3 to 4 turns, as reaching 5 felt unnecessary. I interpret Count Grey as a mini boss, so I'm going to make it a mandatory 6 turns, with the first turn being an introduction (according to the instructions in the guide). This introduction will be a normal CD 15 test, without any modifiers, as if it were a simple test of strength between the two to prove their abilities. Then the real combat begins.
Round 1: Cd: 15
Roll 5 + Strength (4) = 9
Failure
Sigurd swung his sword, slicing through the shadows, freeing himself from the sphere. He fell to the ground below, landing on his feet, his body tensed, his grip tightening on his blade. Count Grey grinned, his fangs bared, his figure rising in the sky, his aura pulsing with dark energy.
"Show me your might, youngling. Let us see if you can withstand the fury of the vampire."
Count Grey snapped his fingers, and black tendrils of power exploded from the shadows, twisting and snaking their way towards Sigurd. Sigurd charged forward, his sword slashing through the darkness, splitting it into ribbons, his muscles quivering with adrenaline.
"Stay on your guard, Count," yelled Sigurd, his voice echoing in the arena. "For I am not one to fall easily."
{He will cause a small injury on Sigurd}
Count Grey hissed, his eyes narrowing, his fangs gnashing.
"I will drain you dry, mortal, your blood, your magic, your very life force will belong to me."
As he uttered these words, a rush of energy exploded from Count Grey's body, a blast of magic that knocked Sigurd off his feet, sending him spinning backwards. Sigurd landed on his back, his head pounding, his body aching.
The crowd roared, their faces twisted with excitement, their eyes glinting with desire.
"Yes, yes, give it to him, Count, rip him limb from limb," they chanted, their voices rising to a crescendo.
Round 2:
active opposition (+2), franctic situation (+2), the scene has a crowd favorable towards Count Grey and those pesky tendrils, so (+4), the action (winning) is unlikely to succeed (+2), I'm the hero of the prophecy and I have Spells to Break The Great Delusion (-4).
DC: 21 (holy shit...)
Roll... 17 + Strength (4) = 21 (Holy shit!)
Is this even a success? It's a tie! What do we do now? I will let the AI decide
Sigurd staggered to his feet, his head swimming, his vision blurring. He gritted his teeth, his eyes fixed on Count Grey, his sword trembling in his grasp.
Count Grey snarled, his fangs gleaming, his face contorted with rage.
"Enough of this. It's time to end this farce, mortal."
Count Grey raised his arms, and a blast of power exploded from his hands, a wave of energy that crashed into Sigurd, which, remembering his training with Gooslymn, simply raised his fists and blocked the blow, gritting his teeth and feeling his bionic arms vibrating under the force.
When he lowered his arms, Count Grey's face was puckered, his lips curled with fury, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Damn you, mortal," he hissed. "Damn you and your pathetic resistance."
With that, Count Grey launched himself at Sigurd, his body shooting towards him like a bolt of lightning, his power surging through him, his fangs glinting with malevolence. Sigurd spun his sword in circles, blocking Count Grey's claws, deflecting his attacks, his movements quick and precise, his muscles straining with effort. They kept repeating this motion a few times: Count Grey attacking, sigurd countering his attacks, defending, repelling and dodging his shots. The speed of the Count, his onslaught kept growing on intensity, increasing at a terrifying and unnatural speed, but the strength of Sigurd seemed to have no bounds as the metallic arms kept giving in, receiving the blows with raw precision, resounding by huge booms and metal shard exploding in every direction, as if he used some kind of anti-vampire swordsmanship technique, catching the Count off guard more than once, with impossible twists and evasions and perfect timing, like being the best rival that the immortal, experienced, and deadly vampire has ever faced. Sigurd's skills were blooming right in front of Count Grey's eyes, shocking him, awakening something from the pits of his stomach: Hunger.
Their battle became more and more intense, each strike hitting harder than the last, each movement faster, until suddenly, Count Grey raised his arms and stopped, hovering above the arena floor, his gaze fixated on Sigurd.
Count Grey narrowed his crimson eyes, his fangs glistening with anticipation.
"Impressive, mortal, very impressive indeed. You seem to be more resilient than I expected. However..."
Count Grey smiled, his expression menacing, his aura pulsing with power.
Round 3:
active opposition (+2), franctic situation (+2), no tendrils now, the crowd went silent, so (+0), winning is unlikely (+2), I'm the hero of the prophecy and I have Spells to Break The Great Delusion (-4)
DC: 17
Roll... 9 + Willpower (3) = 12
Failure
{Count Grey will launch an attack that Sigurd will try to parry with his arms in vain}
"Impressive, mortal, very impressive indeed. You seem to be more resilient than I expected. However..."
Count Grey smiled, his expression menacing, his aura pulsing with power.
"...it seems that endurance does not translate into victory."
Count Grey thrust his hand towards Sigurd, and a blast of energy erupted from his fingers, a beam of pure darkness, a ray of absolute death. Sigurd could only watch in horror as the beam spiraled towards him, crashing into him. He raised his fists once more, hoping to block the attack, but the force was too much, and he felt himself being blown backward, slammed into the wall behind him. His head rang with pain, and his ears buzzed with a strange, otherworldly music.
Round 4: Twist, let's see what we get
Pc Negative - Carelessness of Death
Oh...
{Sigurd will realize in the next paragraphs that he's now cursed with a spell that consumes his sould and withers his flesh}
Count Grey floated above the arena, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"It is over, mortal," he hissed. "You have lost. You will die, your soul will be consumed, and your flesh will wither, and the world will know no savior."
Sigurd struggled to his feet, gasping for breath, tasting blood in the back of his throat. His arms creaked and groaned, their metal shearing, their wiring sparking with electricity. He coughed, spattering blood on the ground, his vision blurring.
As he fought to regain consciousness, Sigurd realized that Count Grey's spell had done something to him, something terrible and irreversible. He could feel himself fading, fading, as if he were drifting away, as if he were part of a dream. He collapsed to the ground, clutching at the earth, fighting to remain awake, to remain alive.
Count Grey sneered, hovering above Sigurd's dying form, licking the blood from his fingertips, relishing Sigurd's despair.
"Farewell, mortal. May you rot in hell, your bones turning to dust, your flesh turning to ash."
Round 5:
The character was affected badly with the random event (+2), the opposition is active (+2), franctic situation (+2), winning is unlikely (+2), I'm the hero of the prophecy and I have Spells to Break The Great Delusion (-4)
DC: 19
Roll... 20! + Willpower (3*2 = 6) = 26
Count Grey's cruel laughter echoed in Sigurd's ears, a sound that haunted him in the depths of madness and despair. He lay on the floor, breathing heavily, feeling the life draining from him, the curse spreading inside him, devouring him.
Yet, he refused to succumb. He remembered Gooslymn's training, he remembered Calliope's magic, he remembered the Prophecy, he remembered Aidgard and its people, their suffering, their need for salvation.
With a burst of strength, Sigurd rolled to the side, ignoring Count Grey's mocking cries, ignoring the curse consuming him, ignoring the pain wracking him. He stumbled to his feet, swaying with exhaustion, and threw himself towards Count Grey, a look of determination in his eyes, a look of defiance etched on every line of his face.
Count Grey gasped, surprised by Sigurd's resilience, by Sigurd's stubbornness, by the fact that the curse had not only been resisted, but apparently had been absorbed instead by the bionics.
"I'm not yet defeated", sighed Sigurd.
Round 6 (Last Round!):
the opposition is active (+2), franctic situation (+2), winning is unlikely (+2), I'm the hero of the prophecy and I have Spells to Break The Great Delusion (-4), Sigurd has the upper hand, resisting everything Count Grey threw at him until now (-4)
DC: 13
Roll... 20! + Strength (4*2 = 8) = 28
In a flash, Sigurd was on the vampire, slashing and hacking, moving so fast that even the Vampire didn't even react to the assault, and by the time he tried to defend or react, a fist, a kick, a knee to the face or a spinning slice of the sword had already broken the bones of the immortal's face, again, and again.
But that wasn't all, for with a turn, Sigurd lifted himself, using the momentum, and took him by the torso, throwing him with all the weight of a heavy piece of iron, breaking the chest, breaking ribs and spine, sending the creature to the ground like a stone statue.
Sigurd didn't have time to waste, he had to keep going, keep striking, keep attacking before the vampire could recover and unleash another vicious assault. So, he smashed the vampire's face with the hilt of the sword, creating a spider web of cracks in the skull, a shower of blood and broken teeth, a twisted nose, and a dark purple bruise.
When the vampire raised a shaky arm, Sigurd just grabbed the hand, yanked the entire body towards himself, and shattered the whole arm with an elbow drop, before ripping it off and beating him with it.
"Impossible", Count Grey coughed while grunting, spraying blood on the ground. "Impossible. No mere human can best me, not this way, especially with the curse."
"Did Nicolau Waltzier underestimate us so much? Was this the best vampire he's been able to bring down? This poor beast who cannot even recognize a true hero?"
Grunting with pain and frustration, the vampire unleashed the darkness within him, a mighty scream tearing from him, as he disappeared, again and again, but reappeared increasingly rapidly, panting in panic, and then, he jumped to an extreme level, a leap of death, as he took the hero in the arms from behind, lifting him and throwing him through the air, as fast and hard as he could, not caring where. It was useless though; Sigurd rolled mid-air and countered, pushing the Count's hands forward, gaining impulse, grabbing the neck and planting the feet on the waist, adding even more to the impulse, before stretching himself to grab the knees, and rolling, adding force again and smashing Count Grey onto the stone floor of the arena, cracking the rocks themselves with the sheer impact.
With a roar, Sigurd raised his knee, piercing right between the eyes, sinking all the way to the hip, further cutting the noble creature. Sigurd raised his arms to the sky, lifted the creature with no visible effort, holding him overhead as the neck hanged, immobilized for a brief, mortal moment... Until with a crushing smash, the metal met the marble surface of the arena, pulverizing his spine into bits and shattering his skull in the first blow, before slamming again and again until there was no face left, only meat and shattered bones, destroyed bones and brain juice.
Overwhelmed by the blood lust and fury, driven by the excitement and will to see the vampire's miserable corpse decay forever, he continued to pound the vampire's corpse.
After the tenth smash, there was an explosion of energy, followed by an eruption of light and sound, the entire universe folding in on itself, reality quaking under the weight of the unthinkable horror that Sigurd had unleashed. And in the place of the immortal, Count Grey, laid a sizzling, squirming mass of melted viscera, a puddle of refuse that no living, intelligent creature could possibly recognize as having once been something as monstrously demonic and atrocious.
All was silent as the audience stared at the pile of foul oozing vile flesh, their eyes wide with shock, their faces pale with horror.
Nicolau Waltzier and the Demiurge looked down at the remains, their faces frozen, their bodies trembling.
Sigurd's voice thundered through the arena, his words echoing through the minds of every soul in attendance.
"I have destroyed the immortal Count Grey. I have proven myself worthy to fulfill the prophecy. Now, you need to keep your part of the deal, Mormon. Let the Order of the Golden Pen and Jax County remain unharmed."
Will he keep his part of the deal? (Unlikely, Yes is Favorable)
Mythic: Yes
Will he teleport me away from here? (Likely, Yes is Favorable)
Mythic: Yes
Nicolau Waltzier, his face still pale and emotionless, nodded slowly.
"I will honor our agreement, Sigurd. I will let the Order of the Golden Pen continue to exist and I will keep Jax County out of my reach."
With that, Nicolau Waltzier raised his hand, and a burst of energy exploded from his fingertips, enveloping Sigurd in a sphere of light and darkness, a shimmering cocoon of power that seemed to swallow him whole. In an instant, Sigurd was gone, spiraling into the void beyond.
Scene 5
Chaos is back to 6, the scene was favorable to Sigurd.
Setup:
So, this is a bit of a mistery for me. I don't know exactly where Sigurd ended up now. I will go with the most logical option and say that he's back to the order's tower, which is destroyed now.
Yep, the scene goes as planned.
Is the Order still here? (Very Unlikely, Yes is favorable)
Mythic: No
Random Event: NPC Action (Dendrin) - Imitate Lies
I understand this as even if they have gone, Dendrin has left clues so that Sigurd can find where they have hidden using his magical illusions
[ Scene: Sigurd is back to the smoldering ruins of the Golden Tower, the tower of the Order of the Golden Pen. ]
Sigurd opened his eyes slowly, his senses dulled, his vision blurred, his ears ringing with a strange, otherworldly music. As he struggled to his feet, his eyes caught a glimpse of something, something that sent shivers down his spine.
{Dendrin left clues using illusion magic, revealing to Sigurd the path that leads to where the order is hiding}
Before him lay the smoldering ruins of the Golden Tower, the remains of the once proud structure reduced to a pile of ash and rubble, the sky above stained with smoke and flame, the air heavy with the stench of death and decay. Sigurd stumbled towards the wreckage, his eyes scanning the ruins, searching for some sign of life, some sign of hope.
As he walked, Sigurd felt the air grow colder, the ground shifting beneath his feet, the trees rustling with a strange, eerie presence. He peered into the shadows, his senses tingling, his heart racing, his mind reeling with uncertainty.
Suddenly, Dendrin's voice drifted towards him from somewhere beyond, his words faint and distant, yet carrying with them a note of urgency, a hint of desperation.
"Follow the light, Sigurd. Follow the light and you shall find us."
Sigurd paused, his feet rooted to the ground, his hands trembling.
Then, he saw it, a flickering orb of light hovering above the wreckage, a pulsing, twisting beacon of hope and promise.
Without a second thought, Sigurd stumbled forward, following the light, his eyes fixed on the tiny ball of energy that danced and swayed before him, leading him through the darkness, guiding him towards his destination.
It leads me towards any sort of portal? I guess they are not here anymore (Likely, Even Favorability)
Mythic: Exceptional yes!
The ball of energy is the portal
How this safe place looks like?
Detail Check: Anger ( Fancy Smelly )
Some garden with strong smells, but the members of the order still seem to be rather tense
Do I see all the members of the order here? (Very Likely, Yes is Favorable)
Mythic: Yes
Suddenly, a blast of light exploded before him, engulfing him, engulfing everything. For a brief, terrifying moment, he was consumed by the energy, a surge of magic that wrapped around him, enveloped him, transported him across space and time.
Describe the location where he appears. It must be a safe place full of plants, with a rather strong smell. The members of the order are here, like Gooslymn, Calliope, Dendrim and Kovas. The ambient is rather full of tension and anger.
Sigurd had barely registered what was happening, when suddenly, he found himself standing in the midst of a lush garden, the sweet scent of flowers filling his nose, the brilliant rays of moonlight shining through the leaves. Before him stood a gathering of people, a huddle of faces and forms that gazed at him with a mixture of relief and disbelief.
"Welcome back, Sigurd. Welcome back."
He couldn't believe it, couldn't comprehend what had just happened, and before he could speak, he found himself pulled into the arms of Gooslymn and Calliope, their embraces warm and welcome, their faces brimming with happiness and joy.
From a distance, Loremaster Kovas waved to Sigurd, his eyes sparkling with delight. "That was some performance, lad", he called. "You've proven yourself worthy of being the hero of the prophecy."
As they pulled away, Sigurd looked around, his eyes searching the crowd, his mind spinning with confusion.
"Where is Dendrin?", he asked, his voice quivering with emotion.
"He's dead, Sigurd. He's gone."
For real?
Mythic: Yes
Did he die because Nicolau tried to persecute the Order after taking Sigurd? (Likely, Even Favorability)
Mythic: No
Did he die accidentally? (Unlikely, Even Favorability)
Mythic: No
I'm out of ideas, and NAI just keeps generating "ooh he died trying to save us from Nicolau" which doesn't makes any sense, so I'm doing the following
I liked the last one, with this understanding that, basically, even though Sigurd gave the order time to escape from Nicolau, the army was still looking for the order, and Dendrin still had to hold them off so that the order could escape. Sounds perfect.
Sigurd stared at her, a mixture of sadness and bewilderment washing over him. He couldn't believe it, couldn't understand it.
"B-but how? How could he have died?" he stammered. "I bought enough time for all of you to run away."
Gooslymn shook his head, his mouth twisted in a wry smile.
"The mercenaries were relentless, Sigurd. Once we escaped the tower, we were greeted by a battalion of soldiers, and we were badly outnumbered."
"We started to retreat, knowing that we were doomed if we stayed."
"As we made our way to the forest, Dendrin lingered behind, blasting a cloud of dust and debris in their faces, buying us a few precious minutes to escape."
Sigurd closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face, his heart sinking with despair.
"It wasn't enough", Gooslymn continued, his voice quaking with emotion. "The Mormon and his army fell upon him, and though he managed to cast several powerful spells, the sheer number of soldiers was just too much for him to handle."
"In the end, the mob descended on him, their blades piercing his flesh, their fists pulverizing his bones, his body becoming a feast for the crows."
"But... The orb of light... I heard his voice... It was his illusion that brought me here..." Sigurd sobbed, unable to accept the truth.
Gooslymn placed his hand on Sigurd's shoulder, his eyes glistening with tears.
"Illusion magic can do many things, Sigurd", he whispered. "He saved us all, and in the end, his spirit lives on, watching over us, protecting us, guiding us."
Gooslymn turned towards the night sky, his eyes fixed on the stars twinkling above, a solitary tear trickling down his cheek.
Sigurd closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, struggling to compose himself.
"We have much work to do, gentlemen", he said, his voice echoing through the garden. "A soul to avenge, a prophecy to fulfill."
Gooslymn, Calliope, and Dendrin nodded, their faces grim with determination, their hearts burning with fire and vengeance.
"Yes, Sigurd", they murmured, their voices carrying through the garden, their words rippling through the night, a call to action, a cry for justice.
"Let's finish this, once and for all."