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nepsah rolled 1 8-sided dice:
5
Total: 5 (1-8)
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Posted: Fri Apr 13, 2018 6:29 am
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T-Kai rolled 1 8-sided dice:
8
Total: 8 (1-8)
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Posted: Fri Apr 13, 2018 7:04 am
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Posted: Fri Apr 13, 2018 9:02 pm
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Doutei You advance past charred fence posts, a rotting musical instrument, damp jetsam, a defaced musical instrument and a lightning scarred fence post... Before you escape! The salty sea air rushes towards you. You've managed to exit the catacombs in some kind of hidden sea cavern, a cove that sparkles with ocean mist and shiny mussels coating the walls. The slick naturally carved steps leading to the ocean exit towards the rocky beach where you can escape and make your way back up to the scuttleway. However, at the very top of the stairs where it is dry, a huge pile of trash sits. Sleeping peacefully in a nest of familiar torn up fabrics is an immense trashcreature and her brood of joeys.
Quote: You advance past melted jetsam, charred furnishings, rotting jetsam, damp furnishings, defaced jetsam before you hear a small voice. Somewhere, Goldie is pushing through. Their presence guides you back to the beginning of the tunnels. Re-roll D8, lose no WILL.
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Posted: Sat Apr 14, 2018 7:12 pm
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Quote: Landmark nearby: Melted Fauna Bones Will: 9 Party: The Emmas (Stemma/Dalema)
As soon as the floor caved in, Ampere had wrapped themselves around Dalema. Knowing well she could get hurt with the coming fall. Down they went again for what it seemed the last time. When Dalema regained consciousness, she quickly looked around to fin her lusus. She found their tail, who was slowly regenerating... Uh-oh.
Ampere was also trying their best to regenerate their lost tail, the process couldn't be any slower. They wouldn't be able to move as fast. Dalema looked back as she heard a familiar voice. "Yo!" She called back. Having her armed grabbed by a highblood felt great, even if there was the whole "possibility of dying in the catacombs" but, the important thing was, she was escaping with a highblood.
This gave her status. Surely it did!
"Alright, we'll get out of this crazy and stinky place in no time, cool cat!" She said with a thumbs up, feeling determined to get out in one piece. "Ampere, dude, try to keep up!" She shouted. Hopefully the regenerated tail wouldn't live long enough. Really, the regenerated parts always... freaked her out. They never really thought the way her lusus did.
She whited out though after a few. Dalema shook her head, curls messing up a bit as she did so. The child rearranged her glasses and clicked her tongue. "This can't be good... Which way should we go?"
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zeflamigo rolled 1 8-sided dice:
5
Total: 5 (1-8)
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Posted: Sat Apr 14, 2018 7:24 pm
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Landmark nearby: Melted Jetsam I am running... L, L, L, L, L, L
"Cool cat..." Stemma tried to make sense of the phrase, her face scrunching up in thought. What a strange troll. Still, she seemed kind and helpful, and capable of letting Stemma lead the way.
Krampa made a series of awful noises, typical of his speech. He indicated a new route for the children to go, hopefully in a new direction. Stemma listened carefully, and followed his instruction.
"We go left!" Stemma told Dalema, starting to move in that direction. Hopefully they would find a way out of this 'stinky' place, as Dalema indicated. In the meantime, she supposed she could talk. Talking could probably help ease both of their nerves.
"You're an investigator, aren't you?" She had helped considerably with the task of finding seance clues. "You're quite clever for your caste!" She complimented, still running, searching for a way out. It felt weird to compliment a midblood, but she was quite the sleuth.
Will: 9 Group: the Emmas (Stemma/Dalema)
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Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2018 7:43 pm
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Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2018 7:44 pm
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Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2018 8:26 pm
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The whipping of the wind may have calmed, but the pained moans of the catacombs only deepened. The structural integrity was already questionable at best. The sheer amount of chaos, running, falling, and rampaging had shaken the hilltop to its very core. The debris raining from the ceiling was constant now. With every passing second, larger pieces were beginning to dislodge.
A cacophonic wail ran between the rumbling catacombs below and the pattering gravel above. A cold, billowing force pushed its way through the tunnels. Translucent, oil slick shimmering took the form of reaching hands before fading back into the shapeless mass.
Everyone in the catacombs could feel the presence, but it was Cynril and Floren that had front row seats. The frenzied screaming was so layered it was impossible to parse.
A roll like thunder.
”C̞̫̼̝͘ ̵͔̣̳̬̪̥͚Y̦ ̵̤̰͉͖͇͉̭N̤̣͘ ̣̰̟̜̮͓̪R̖̱̩̫̻̙ ͈̻̘̦͔̫̼I̝͔̭͖͖̟͘ ̷̙̬̖͉L̼̣͜”
The approximation of arms whipped over the two trolls’ heads. Falling sheets of rock shattered into pebbles above the boys. The arms in turn reared back in on themselves.
”St̶…̸ ̀ay… ̷w̷it̴h̢ ҉m͘e͏… S̶t͝a..̵.͜ỳ… RU̵N!̛ Y̛O͘U NEED T͜Ǫ RUN!͞ DO-̸ n͡’t…̛ ͟S͜TAY̢!͞ YO̵U NE̛ED TO͏ R̕UN”
Between the shadows and the debris it was nearly impossible to make out the form of the amalgamate. It contracted and pulsed as it seemed to struggle with itself. Indistinct voices compounded over each other. It inched forward at a snail’s pace. All the while, the shrill child’s voice picked up in its fervor.
”I̩ ̭̹̦̳W̴̩̦͎͔̮O̯̫̰̮N͟’̳̻͚̟̞͖̲T̺̞̮͚̘ LE͏̫̜̹̤Ţ̹ ̜̜̻̥̳̣Y̻O̡̞U̠͘.̣͍͎͈͍̕”
The chilling mass of the ghosts billowed. It filled the catacombs and then collapsed. Like a nova, it pulled inward. It wrenched itself back from Cynril and by extension, the others in the caverns. The force shattered the ceiling to dust. The ghost reared tower-like through and above the mansion into the sky.
The barrier between the catacombs and the outside was destroyed. Rats poured from the crannies of the building. Frantic, they skittered en masse along the sloped walls of the pit that was once the catacombs. Freedom was but a quick, if not harrowing climb away.
The ghosts stood in a pillar at the center of the destruction. It wobbled liquid-like. It threatened to fall on the trolls below, but was kept upright by sheer force of will.
”I ͜di͟dn’t̨ w͝a̶nt̀ ̀t͏h͏is… I͘ ̀d̸idn̶’t͠ ̸ẃan̴t́ ̵a̴ny of t͠h͞is͡.͘” The voice whispered quietly. Then quieter still:
”Sowwy Cynwil.”
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