Roleplay 1000 Wands of World Wrecking Wonder IC

[FriedCFour]

Theodoric was absolutely horrified by the deaths of some of those bandits. After they are died, he made sure to investigate the bodies the best he could, trying to see if his medicial or magical knowledge could tell him anything (medicine and arcana rolls). He wasn't even sure what the effect of the wand was, he thought it might be killing effect, but isn't sure so he also tries to see if it matches to anything he knows (arcana).

You can tell through your combination of arcana and medicine that these are completely decayed corpses, not a hint of flesh on them, and look as though practically ancient. You can tell by arcana that this is probably necrotic magic by nature. You aren't sure of anything you remember quite like this. You can also tell this has affected every corpse here.

I walk over and try to stick my hand in the fire.

You walk up to the fire, stick your hand in, and learn two valuable lessons. You can indeed hurt yourself without issue, and that fire is hot. Take one point of burn damage.

Varrys adjusted his glasses.

"Well do we set up here I suppose?"

Your question is met by pained sobbing and tearful, choking words some 60 feet from you. "Please, please don't do me in like that! Let me live and I will do no harm, but If you are gonna kill me just don't do me in like that!" The bandit cries pointing to the skeleton on the ground, sputtering and sunken to his knees in the liquid slowly pooling around him.

 

[Shipmaster Sane]

You walk up to the fire, stick your hand in, and learn two valuable lessons. You can indeed hurt yourself without issue, and that fire is hot. Take one point of burn damage.

Worth learning, in any case, and safer than stabbing myself in the hand.

Your question is met by pained sobbing and tearful, choking words some 60 feet from you. "Please, please don't do me in like that! Let me live and I will do no harm, but If you are gonna kill me just don't do me in like that!" The bandit cries pointing to the skeleton on the ground, sputtering and sunken to his knees in the liquid slowly pooling around him.

Does he look like he's getting worse?

 

[FriedCFour]

Does he look like he's getting worse?

Emotionally so, the bandit appears to be in complete breakdown. It's possibly magic, but then he did just watch all his friends die horribly in an instant, is currently pretty wounded and vomited literal gallons of strange liquid. Today would be an emotionally traumatic day for most. Physically he is the same.

 

[Shipmaster Sane]

Emotionally so, the bandit appears to be in complete breakdown. It's possibly magic, but then he did just watch all his friends die horribly in an instant, is currently pretty wounded and vomited literal gallons of strange liquid. Today would be an emotionally traumatic day for most. Physically he is the same.

"It's a curse you have sir. You'll melt away a little at a time unless it's on hallowed ground you spend your days."

 

[Hlaalu Agent]

You can tell through your combination of arcana and medicine that these are completely decayed corpses, not a hint of flesh on them, and look as though practically ancient. You can tell by arcana that this is probably necrotic magic by nature. You aren't sure of anything you remember quite like this. You can also tell this has affected every corpse here.

Theodoric would have to note this down, and then figure out which wand was doing exactly what effect. He did not want to label any of them wrong. That could have...unforeseen consequences. Necrotic magic would make sense given the nature of the corpses, and the poor end of these bandits. Now he wondered if one of the wands had a "rot" corpse in area effect, or something similiar.

@GravitysMomentum "I do believe, master, that one or more of these wands has a necromantic effect. Which fits with the evidence we see here, however, I can imagine there are other types of magic that can achieve this. I think this bears further testing, perhaps on trees this time?"

 

[Abyssgazer]

Boris let out a traditional clan victory bark, throwing his head back as he did. Only to let it stay there so he could admire the prettiest thing he'd ever seen, the sky lit up by the myriad of colors that danced across the endless expanse of the horizon.

He thumped his tail with a rumble in his throat as he uncapped another of his bogwine skins and knocked it back qaffing several mouthfuls down letting his vision blur before turning to other matters.

He gathered up the wand he'd dropped placing it in his belt pouch so he knew where it was then placed the second wand into his pack separate from the others. At last he checked the bodies only to give a mournful cry that they were all rotten to the bone, how was he to have softskin stew with rotten meat so searching the camp for anything worth drinking as he wondered if the bones were even worth using for stew stock and eyeing up the last bandit.

 

[Grav]

Theodoric would have to note this down, and then figure out which wand was doing exactly what effect. He did not want to label any of them wrong. That could have...unforeseen consequences. Necrotic magic would make sense given the nature of the corpses, and the poor end of these bandits. Now he wondered if one of the wands had a "rot" corpse in area effect, or something similiar.

@GravitysMomentum "I do believe, master, that one or more of these wands has a necromantic effect. Which fits with the evidence we see here, however, I can imagine there are other types of magic that can achieve this. I think this bears further testing, perhaps on trees this time?"

“Yes very interesting. Let’s set up here and continue the trials. Oh and before I forget.”

Emotionally so, the bandit appears to be in complete breakdown. It's possibly magic, but then he did just watch all his friends die horribly in an instant, is currently pretty wounded and vomited literal gallons of strange liquid. Today would be an emotionally traumatic day for most. Physically he is the same.

Varrys uses his dart wand at the man. Missing intentionally and striking next to the bandit’s head.

 

[⚕⚕⚕]

Bierstout simply stands there with his mouth open, completely dumbstruck at the sheer strangeness of the magic he's witnessed tonight. The coup de grâce on his composure being the sight of all the corpses rotting decades in the space of a few seconds, bones as clean as if they'd been picked over by scavengers and worms. It was right unnatural, it was.

With a look of awe in his eyes, he looks at the wands on his person in a totally new light. For the first time in his life he truly understands that magic isn't all flashy explosions and glowy-glowy lightshows (even if the one that had appeared just now was the prettiest he's ever seen). It's mysterious, wondrous, and above all dangerous, and a newfound respect for the mystical slowly forms in his heart.

He still has no idea what his first wand did, with it having no adventitious effects on the bandit leader. Perhaps it was just a normal wand? Or more likely he wasn't smart enough to tell. He flexes and inspects the fingers of his left hand — the one that was holding the second wand, and briefly tingled after casting with it — to try to see if there are any lasting effects. The third wand's effect is obvious even to an idiot like himself, causing the victim to uncontrollably vomit a thick, glue-like liquid.

Reminding himself how useful that last one could be, he shakes his head to clear it and looks around him.

Hastria drops to her knees, the grand displays of magic and the putrid form of the man she killed rendering her quite shellshocked. She stares ahead blankly, wobbling slightly.

"I...wha-...oh..."

Bierstout trudges over to the traumatized girl, placing a warm and heavy hand on her shoulder. He remembers the first time he saw a dwarf killed; a tavern-brawl getting too heated and escalating to hatchets. Blood and fingers everywhere; quite a nasty business that was. Took him a few hours and getting absolutely plastered on cheap swill to come to terms with it, but that was all. Came out of that experience a better dwarf.

"Ye'll be alright, lass," he reassures her, and presses a flask into her hand. It's a strong but smooth brew, made by his favorite cousin Gunnes. Perfect for an after-anything pick-me-up, whether that anything be a scuffle, a heartbreak, or a tumble.

Then he walks over to the former bandit camp, where the others seem to have gathered. He looks longingly at the roasted rabbits that had been slated for the outlaws' evening repast, but shakes his head mournfully as he considers the fell magics that had been wrought here. The meat might not have rotted yet, but he's not certain that there won't be any ill effects. Nor would he be fain to rest his own head here, for much of the same reasons.

"Please, please don't do me in like that! Let me live and I will do no harm, but If you are gonna kill me just don't do me in like that!" The bandit cries pointing to the skeleton on the ground, sputtering and sunken to his knees in the liquid slowly pooling around him.

"It's a curse you have sir. You'll melt away a little at a time unless it's on hallowed ground you spend your days."

Bierstout nods to himself as he sees what's happening here. Clearly his comrades are planning to put the bandit to the question, trying to tease out whether there are any more of their band elsewhere, where their treasure and prisoners might be kept, or if there are any other bandit groups reaving in the vicinity.

Varrys uses his dart wand at the man. Missing intentionally and striking next to the bandit’s head.

The young dwarf squats down a few yards away from the terrified man, carefully avoiding getting any of the goop onto himself. He pats the wand on his belt, trying to make it obvious to the dirty criminal the cause of his current unfortunate state as well as his supposed willingness to use it again.

"Answer our questions, an' we might just let you walk away," he growls in his best intimidating voice. He catches sight of Boris agitatedly looking around the camp, and remembers some of the more unsavoury rumours about the reptilian folk. "Or we could let our lizard friend take care of you. I think he's hungry. Depends on you, really."

 

[Abyssgazer]

The young dwarf squats down a few yards away from the terrified man, carefully avoiding getting any of the goop onto himself. He pats the wand on his belt, trying to make it obvious to the dirty criminal the cause of his current unfortunate state as well as his supposed willingness to use it again.

"Answer our questions, an' we might just let you walk away," he growls in his best intimidating voice. He catches sight of Boris agitatedly looking around the camp, and remembers some of the more unsavoury rumours about the reptilian folk. "Or we could let our lizard friend take care of you. I think he's hungry. Depends on you, really."

Seeing the stubby dwarf puffering himself up like a hatching trying to stare down a swamp snake before it bit them and they died in withering pain if it got through their scales. Boris took pity and decided to help, as he heavily lumbered up each foot step heavy snapping twigs and beating the ground dragging his tail through the foiliage.

Coming up behind the bandit he loosed a drawn out reptilian hiss as he placed his hands on the mans shoulders. His hiss persisted Boris looked down as him from above letting his bogwine breath roll over the mans head, his mouth parted baring his teeth and let his drool seep down in long strands onto his head. He hoped the man didn't tell the dwarf whatever he wanted, softskin flesh was delicious compared to the stringy meat of frogs.

 

[Draco]

"Ye'll be alright, lass," he reassures her, and presses a flask into her hand. It's a strong but smooth brew, made by his favorite cousin Gunnes. Perfect for an after-anything pick-me-up, whether that anything be a scuffle, a heartbreak, or a tumble.

Hastria's hand grips the flask, more an act of reflex than conscious will, but she does little besides.

 

[FriedCFour]

"It's a curse you have sir. You'll melt away a little at a time unless it's on hallowed ground you spend your days."

"I'll go become a monk! Hell I'd even be a nun! Just let me go, please!"

He gathered up the wand he'd dropped placing it in his belt pouch so he knew where it was then placed the second wand into his pack separate from the others. At last he checked the bodies only to give a mournful cry that they were all rotten to the bone, how was he to have softskin stew with rotten meat so searching the camp for anything worth drinking as he wondered if the bones were even worth using for stew stock and eyeing up the last bandit.

The camp is nothing more than a small clearing and a fire, no drinks to be had.

Varrys uses his dart wand at the man. Missing intentionally and striking next to the bandit’s head.

You wave your wand in an attempt to let loose magic missiles and nothing happens. The bandit, seeing you pointing the wand at him, screams, "no, for the love of Saras please, no more!" And his blubbering and crying continues.

"Answer our questions, an' we might just let you walk away," he growls in his best intimidating voice. He catches sight of Boris agitatedly looking around the camp, and remembers some of the more unsavoury rumours about the reptilian folk. "Or we could let our lizard friend take care of you. I think he's hungry. Depends on you, really."

Coming up behind the bandit he loosed a drawn out reptilian hiss as he placed his hands on the mans shoulders. His hiss persisted Boris looked down as him from above letting his bogwine breath roll over the mans head, his mouth parted baring his teeth and let his drool seep down in long strands onto his head. He hoped the man didn't tell the dwarf whatever he wanted, softskin flesh was delicious compared to the stringy meat of frogs.

As the man hears you talk of a lizard, he feels cold scaly hands and looks up into the toothed maw above him. His tears have been replaced by a look of sheer, abject horror. He takes a moment to compose himself slightly and begins to say "I'll tell you everything, we was just a couple of labourers out on our luck over in Drakesville and this guy come along, big, mean, with a sword, asking for guys who want to make a bit of coin, an me an my buddies Johnny boy and Dago we went for it. We all lost our jobs on account of a sudden death of the farmer we worked for an my wife runoff with a travelling cheese merchant so I wasn't left with much at all so we all go. He had seven others including hisself already and so we all travelled from there to here. I didn't even rob nobody, that was about a week or so an we just walked over here. We stopped and set up our beds near a burned out old farm house, an I think I saw the boss go around the back with a small bag. The house is a couple hours walk northwest of here, along a deer trail."

The man breathes a sigh, having spoken most of that in one breath. Now he looks up, pleading, hopeful, and says, "now, can I go become a monk?"

 

[Shipmaster Sane]

Seeing the stubby dwarf puffering himself up like a hatching trying to stare down a swamp snake before it bit them and they died in withering pain if it got through their scales. Boris took pity and decided to help, as he heavily lumbered up each foot step heavy snapping twigs and beating the ground dragging his tail through the foiliage.

Coming up behind the bandit he loosed a drawn out reptilian hiss as he placed his hands on the mans shoulders. His hiss persisted Boris looked down as him from above letting his bogwine breath roll over the mans head, his mouth parted baring his teeth and let his drool seep down in long strands onto his head. He hoped the man didn't tell the dwarf whatever he wanted, softskin flesh was delicious compared to the stringy meat of frogs.

"Thats well enough. Let the man go."

The man breathes a sigh, having spoken most of that in one breath. Now he looks up, pleading, hopeful, and says, "now, can I go become a monk?"

James motions at the bodies
"Dont forget your comrades, you'll have to bury them, acourse."

 

[⚕⚕⚕]

Hastria's hand grips the flask, more an act of reflex than conscious will, but she does little besides.

Seeing her seemingly not knowing what to do with the flask, Bierstout reaches over and unstoppers it for her. The sweet, yeasty, almost buttery aroma of the ale inside immediately begins to escape and waft into the air.

"Drink up. It'll help with the shakes."

+ + + + +

As the man hears you talk of a lizard, he feels cold scaly hands and looks up into the toothed maw above him. His tears have been replaced by a look of sheer, abject horror. He takes a moment to compose himself slightly and begins to say "I'll tell you everything, we was just a couple of labourers out on our luck over in Drakesville and this guy come along, big, mean, with a sword, asking for guys who want to make a bit of coin, an me an my buddies Johnny boy and Dago we went for it. We all lost our jobs on account of a sudden death of the farmer we worked for an my wife runoff with a travelling cheese merchant so I wasn't left with much at all so we all go. He had seven others including hisself already and so we all travelled from there to here. I didn't even rob nobody, that was about a week or so an we just walked over here. We stopped and set up our beds near a burned out old farm house, an I think I saw the boss go around the back with a small bag. The house is a couple hours walk northwest of here, along a deer trail."

The man breathes a sigh, having spoken most of that in one breath. Now he looks up, pleading, hopeful, and says, "now, can I go become a monk?"

Bierstout almost feels sorry for the man. He knows that lady luck can sometimes squat down and take a giant dump all over one's life. Losing your job, and then your wife in quick succession — that's got to be hard. And to a cheese merchant no less, nevermind that the yellow and white morsels were the ambrosia of the gods. But that doesn't justify turning to crime and robbery, not while your arms and back are still strong and you can still do an honest day's labor. To add more misery to the world instead — that's a wretched way to live.

The bandit is lucky that they hadn't managed to waylay anyone yet. If they'd already robbed or even murdered some villagers or farmers, there would have been no mercy. But no innocents had been harmed (physically, that is, as otherwise he might have to consider Hastria to be a victim), and most of the would-be robbers were already dead. Except for the two who had escaped, who they might need to track down and bring to justice.

If this cutthroat truly wishes to atone for his turn to evil . . . then Bierstout has something in mind for him.

"Thats well enough. Let the man go."

James motions at the bodies
"Dont forget your comrades, you'll have to bury them, acourse."

"One last thing. Two of your 'friends' ran away. We'll need to know who they are, and where they might be running off to other than your little hideout. But after that, you'll be free to pray and dedicate the rest of your life to Saras."

Bierstout looks at the lizardman expectantly, but sees that there's no signs of comprehension in those cold, slitted eyes. Ah, he remembers. He's always spoken to the lizardman in Dwarvish. The scaly friend must not understand the common tongue of humanoids. Well, no matter. He simply repeats James's words, but in a language that he knows the lizard can understand.

"Alright, that's good enough. You can unhand him after he answers."

 

[FriedCFour]

"One last thing. Two of your 'friends' ran away. We'll need to know who they are, and where they might be running off to other than your little hideout. But after that, you'll be free to pray and dedicate the rest of your life to Saras."

"In all honesty, I didn't know em well enough to give em your names. But I would imagine they were running for their lives. After that, if they recover their wits, they may go back to the camp we had before. I don't know if they saw the boss go back with the bag, he did that in the night and I only caught him seeing as I had watch." The bandit stares at you with hope in his eyes hoping whatever you just said was to let him go.

 

[Abyssgazer]

Bierstout looks at the lizardman expectantly, but sees that there's no signs of comprehension in those cold, slitted eyes. Ah, he remembers. He's always spoken to the lizardman in Dwarvish. The scaly friend must not understand the common tongue of humanoids. Well, no matter. He simply repeats James's words, but in a language that he knows the lizard can understand.

"Alright, that's good enough. You can unhand him after he answers."

Swiging down another couple mouthful of bogwine dulling his senses and mind as the softskin blabbered on.

Unhand him.

Made perfect sense to him, thieves from other tribes were gravely punished for stealing.

Boris waited until the softskin finish his talking, on que he took both of the mans hands lifting them up, for a moment he squinted at them.

Unhand... Unhand... That mean only one didn't it?

Boris's maw snapped down on one of the mans hands tearing it off with a twist of his head before letting the man go. And Boris got to enjoy the softskin treat, the bones in the limb snapping as he crunched down on it.

Truly softskin hands were a delicacy, the taste brought back memories of getting to snack on the fingers of members of rival tribes or unwelcome softskins.

Swallowing his snack he looked to Bierstout. "Did the violent softskin give you what secrets you sought gift giver?" He asked the dwarf in his tongue licking away blood from the scales around his mouth.

 

[Hlaalu Agent]

“Yes very interesting. Let’s set up here and continue the trials. Oh and before I forget.”

"Indeed, we can continue this later. I think we should start by comparing notes."

Swiging down another couple mouthful of bogwine dulling his senses and mind as the softskin blabbered on.

Unhand him.

Made perfect sense to him, thieves from other tribes were gravely punished for stealing.

Boris waited until the softskin finish his talking, on que he took both of the mans hands lifting them up, for a moment he squinted at them.

Unhand... Unhand... That mean only one didn't it?

Boris's maw snapped down on one of the mans hands tearing it off with a twist of his head before letting the man go. And Boris got to enjoy the softskin treat, the bones in the limb snapping as he crunched down on it.

Truly softskin hands were a delicacy, the taste brought back memories of getting to snack on the fingers of members of rival tribes or unwelcome softskins.

Swallowing his snack he looked to Bierstout. "Did the violent softskin give you what secrets you sought gift giver?" He asked the dwarf in his tongue licking away blood from the scales around his mouth.

"Typical" Theodoric said under his breath as he facepalmed, "Of course we'd have someone who would misunderstand a word, due to cultural use."

He would have to explain the meaning of such words later so that he wouldn't do something like this again, presuming it was a misunderstanding.

Afterwards he quickly rushes to help the bandit, because they were letting him go.

@FriedCFour

 

[Draco]

Swiging down another couple mouthful of bogwine dulling his senses and mind as the softskin blabbered on.

Unhand him.

Made perfect sense to him, thieves from other tribes were gravely punished for stealing.

Boris waited until the softskin finish his talking, on que he took both of the mans hands lifting them up, for a moment he squinted at them.

Unhand... Unhand... That mean only one didn't it?

Boris's maw snapped down on one of the mans hands tearing it off with a twist of his head before letting the man go. And Boris got to enjoy the softskin treat, the bones in the limb snapping as he crunched down on it.

Truly softskin hands were a delicacy, the taste brought back memories of getting to snack on the fingers of members of rival tribes or unwelcome softskins.

Swallowing his snack he looked to Bierstout. "Did the violent softskin give you what secrets you sought gift giver?" He asked the dwarf in his tongue licking away blood from the scales around his mouth.

This sight has not helped Hastria's mood.

 

[Grav]

"Indeed, we can continue this later. I think we should start by comparing notes."



"Typical" Theodoric said under his breath as he facepalmed, "Of course we'd have someone who would misunderstand a word, due to cultural use."

To make sure this didn't happen again, he explained quickly in Draconic, "No, Boris, unhand commonly means to let someone or something go. Because, you are talking you hands off them."

Afterwards he quickly rushes to help the bandit, because they were letting him go.

@FriedCFour

“Hmm, let’s see.”

Varrys proceeds to pull out a journal and writes down: ‘Wand 0001 has an effect of a normal magic missile.’

“Any other effects?”

 

[FriedCFour]

Swiging down another couple mouthful of bogwine dulling his senses and mind as the softskin blabbered on.

Unhand him.

Made perfect sense to him, thieves from other tribes were gravely punished for stealing.

Boris waited until the softskin finish his talking, on que he took both of the mans hands lifting them up, for a moment he squinted at them.

Unhand... Unhand... That mean only one didn't it?

Boris's maw snapped down on one of the mans hands tearing it off with a twist of his head before letting the man go. And Boris got to enjoy the softskin treat, the bones in the limb snapping as he crunched down on it.

Truly softskin hands were a delicacy, the taste brought back memories of getting to snack on the fingers of members of rival tribes or unwelcome softskins.

Swallowing his snack he looked to Bierstout. "Did the violent softskin give you what secrets you sought gift giver?" He asked the dwarf in his tongue licking away blood from the scales around his mouth.

The man, already severely wounded, tries to bring his hands away from you but is too late. The bite takes off a chunk of his arm from his jerking and is killed outright. What you thought would be fresh meat however, has turned utterly fowl and disgusting. As it slides down your throat you can feel maggots wriggle and spill forth and sink into your stomach. You feel entirely and horribly ill from the act. In front of you, the bandit has rotted away entirely in the span of 20 some odd seconds.

Take 2 poison damage and you now have the poisoned status affect.

 

[Shipmaster Sane]

Swallowing his snack he looked to Bierstout. "Did the violent softskin give you what secrets you sought gift giver?" He asked the dwarf in his tongue licking away blood from the scales around his mouth.

The man, already severely wounded, tries to bring his hands away from you but is too late. The bite takes off a chunk of his arm from his jerking and is killed outright. What you thought would be fresh meat however, has turned utterly fowl and disgusting. As it slides down your throat you can feel maggots wriggle and spill forth and sink into your stomach. You feel entirely and horribly ill from the act. In front of you, the bandit has rotted away entirely in the span of 20 some odd seconds.

Take 2 poison damage and you now have the poisoned status affect.

James' cry of outrage becomes a scornful "ah ha!" of a laugh when he sees the monster in anguish.
"It's far less than you deserve you black tongued basilisk! A cheap lesson for a profligate, to slaughter a man granted mercy and eat a man's flesh. Small wonder it sickens you at all, so rotten you are inside."
Even as he berates him in the Dwarvish tongue James' muscles are tense as a spring in case the creature lashes out at him. If this universe has a "Total Defense" state in it's cosmic dictates, James makes liberal use of it now.