White Machine

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PriamNevhausten
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Re: White Machine

Unread postby PriamNevhausten » Tue Feb 08, 2011 11:30 pm

This was the real thing. The very significant conveyance of the oiled leather, no doubt carefully selected bits only given the best treatment, made the rest of this pomp and circumstance seem to wither under its own self-importance. Something, something else, was going on now, and Bargainer would not address it in disguise.

Forsaking the usual gesture of the dramatic snap of the fingers, Bargainer dismissed the three-piece and related accessories that adorned him, leaving himself clothed only in his truest form, black and white skin only covered by his modest blonde hair and a piece of cloth wrapped around his hips to cover his unmentionables. He exhaled in relief, the social pressure somehow lifted, and showed respect in largely the same ways mechanically as before, but this time in earnestness and honesty, addressing not just the procession of the leathers or even the Ritual Guard themselves, but their entire enterprise as a whole.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Idran1701 » Tue Feb 08, 2011 11:56 pm

As the Exemplar fires off another blast from his quite impressive weapon, the Septumvirate moves to the ground, eager to get a better look at the strange energies its weapon projects at his foes. It's vaguely familiar with the technology, of course, as it tends to be vaguely familiar with most everything. (Most; the interactions with the Pontifex still echo in its mind, bringing with it an irritation he rarely feels.) But it's never had a good chance at viewing such an attack from so near, from feeling just what sorts of destructive forces it unleashes upon its enemies. To capture such a weapon itself speaks to the Exemplar's skill, even should one not consider the battle playing out right now.

Still, this weapon is quite dangerous even to one such as itself, and self-preservation and curiosity are locked in an epic struggle as the Septumvirate hovers near. You do not surprise one such as this, even (especially) unintentionally, but it is just such a magnificent display. It must be taken in before the conflict's end.

And once this fight is concluded, he can move to view the newest ceremony, to uncover the meaning behind the presentation occuring under his notice even while his attention is absorbed here.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Capntastic » Fri Feb 11, 2011 2:16 am

Image

The E.R.G. slid down the road towards the bridge, with silent prayer and awe-filled jubilation being showered upon them and their cargo from their left and right. The road behind was empty, and up until the bridge was clear as well. They made their way there unobstructed, and Attendant met them and began unwrapping the leathers.

From a static-filled projection of the road about a mile away, and the dumbstruck crowds (or was it a still image?), a metalic dart shoots off at an angle over Exemplar's helmeted head and embeds itself into a decorative pillar. Exemplar retaliates in measured doses by blasting away at his foe with supersonic projectiles disrupting the psychic field and shredding the innards of the thing to pieces. And yet it skids onwards across its layer of air, the two remaining pilots sneering into his mind, as the field's illusion shattered away and reformed as an image that might awaken something to ride alongside his pure battle lust.

Septumvirate, with their perspective from the pavilion railings, could see this play out in motions almost too chaotic to predict with perfect accuracy. The pillar getting struck was simply an outlier, and the irrational symbolism that could be extracted from this minor event (almost as interesting as the fight itself, in the proper context) was laughable. And then they sensed something else even more unlikely and possibly symbolic, both from the damaged screen below and the event playing itself out live; and parts of Septumvirate couldn't quite decide what sort of probabilities were involved, and what sort of orders of magnitude would be involved with comparing the anomalousness these two events.

Surtr's winners were arguing amongst themselves for the prize when they, along with the scorched losers and all else assembled at his camp turned their attention to the telepegraphic screen broadcasting directly above. The beast shaman's second and tertiary heads looked up of their own accord out of curiosity, and the warlord soon found himself staring. Discussion of the day's prize would be postponed, almost certainly.

Bargainer knew the act of inspecting goods before a deal went down. Likewise, the unwrapping of a gift. Furthermore, logistics, transportation, all of that, on some level or another. He could see that Attendant was not licking his lips, or taking pleasure from this act. Each worn and engraved leather stripped off of the thing was simply knot after knot to be undone calmly and with a focus that showed no real excitement for what was nestled inside. But why would it? This was part of the ritual, and Attendant may be the only one who had the complete schedule of events. The word 'manifest' might've been more appropriate, if only to keep up the mercantile theme. But what was unveiled was certainly a curiosity, and certainly the most valuable thing he'd ever personally dealt with.

Only steps away from the bridge now, vision obscured by the crowds only slightly, Pontifex saw the truth laid bare as the last of this focal point of emotion and herd-behavior was brought out of its protective coverings. Its mystery could be related to. Its status and renown aspired to. But nearer proximity to these aspects only brought envy- its existence was, after all, proof of even greater mysteries beyond this world.

The exact state of the crowd, the assembled inhabitants of the world, was impossible to describe just right, given the finite nature of any vocabulary.



The Black Artifact was composed of a dark mottled iron hammered smoothly. From the central flat disc which was about a forearm's length in diameter, it had sides that curved upwards into a slight incline (roughly a 45 degree angle) and were about an finger's length tall. At the outer edge, there was a protrusion, about a foot long, that tapered in the middle and rounded out at the end, which had a small hole in it. This was held in place by three stubby, circular rods that were threaded through both it and the central disc's side itself.



The presence of the E.R.G. could only do so much to keep the crowds from madly rushing towards the Black Artifact. Though many did try, the white-clad dancers moved in synchronized line patterns to hold them back.

(Check your PMs.)

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Besyanteo
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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Besyanteo » Sat Feb 12, 2011 1:17 am

Surtr's expression was difficult to read. The black thing laid bare beyond the crowd stirred emotions in him that he had tried to suppress a long time ago. As he remembered it the snake hissed and the wolf whined. What he had done, and learned, and lost because of it was almost more than he could bear. The sight of it gnawed at him from the inside, as though worms had made their way into his belly and then begun to eat their way to the surface. He hated it and loved it and given a chance he was unsure if he would mount it on a wall, marking it as his forever, or smash it into a thousand pieces and melt each one down into unrecognizable scrap. He turned away where most would never dream of doing so.

"...Damn."

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Jak Snide » Mon Feb 14, 2011 6:19 am

The sight of the object gave the Exemplar pause. Unfamiliar emotions snaked through its mind, something besides the lust for combat that often eclipsed all other thought. It struggled with the unfamiliar feeling for a moment before its focus returned to the contest. It would entertain these foreign thoughts later. For now it would bring this speeding target down.

(Two attacks, lance and orb, looking to combo if the dice are favourable.)

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ChristianC
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Re: White Machine

Unread postby ChristianC » Mon Feb 14, 2011 11:33 am

The Pontifex watched in silence as the crowds swarmed the black, mysterious object, feeling something aching to frustration. If indeed such emotions could still reside within their body. This was enough, no more of the festivities, no more theatrics. They would leave soon, and until then, the Pontifex needed to clear their mind for the journey ahead. Without a sound or a motion the six set off once more towards the ship, any kind of jingling their bells would have created muted by the roar of the crowds.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby PriamNevhausten » Mon Feb 14, 2011 4:46 pm

How very unexpected! The Black Artifact...Now things would get interesting. As contrasted to the utter predictability with which the crowd was polarized between distinct unease and unfettered greed. And this was boarding the ship? Or, more interesting still, its powers possibly harnessed for the purpose of their journey? And as a prelude, he got to watch these formerly-dignified envoys reduced to scraping, hooting maniacs.

Things were indeed looking up!

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Idran1701 » Mon Feb 14, 2011 8:38 pm

Much as the Exemplar it watches, the Septumvirate finds its attention drawn by the appearance of the Black Artifact. The irony does not escape it; not hours after it re-introduced a long-standing mystery to the gathered sages, did it find himself confronted by one of its own. Yet it can't help but find this less surprising than it should be; if the object were to surface anywhere and anytime, here and now is perhaps the most likely of all. It ends as it begins, leading others on a journey beyond the long-held bounds they had always held close.

Still, there is nothing to be gained from analyzing it now that would not be gained later upon the Worldship. He once more returns his attention to the Exemplar's fight, curious, even eager to see just how he will bring this rapidly-concluding battle to an end.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Capntastic » Mon Feb 28, 2011 5:08 am

Exemplar hurled a sphere of energy at core of the thing, penetrating through the streams of sensation being beamed into his mind directly and indirectly. The screen was crippled before, hovering away at a crawl- but it still did not yield defeat. Exemplar could understand the drive, on some level, if he chose to think about it. But the terms before him were simple; challenger and champion. The impact was muted by the shorting out of the field momentarily, enough to see bright sparks of shrapnel rip through the cage from which the pilots, no, just one left now, controlled the thing. The wired helmet the remaining rider wore was covered in the blood of his comrade, this much was seen clearly in the brief moment the field revealed. This was enough. The shock lance was in his hands, just as the field regained coherence, but the sound of metal, flesh, and metal was enough to ring out a victory. The field continued hovering on as its static filled the air. And behind it, the roar of the crowd, both directly and indirectly.

Attention split as it was between the fight and the ritual, Septumvirate had only moments to wonder about the exact means through which the screen continued its trajectory. The precise moment of true death as the projectile shattered different parts of the brain, the exact nature of the neural helmet link, the subroutines by which the thing guessed its route...best guesses, or remnants of the last input? So many possibilities, and yet with the sensory data gathered here, he'd suss out the one truth given time. But it certainly was sailing on slowly towards the worldship. And now the Ritual Guard were escorting the Attendant and the Black Artifact towards the bridge.

Moments pass.

The sky was full of the bright light of day. The black specks casually made their way towards the horizon for the last time. The crowds of the world surged and writhed as the Ritual continued, as the Attendant held the Black Artifact in his hands at the steps of the bridge, and the air was roaring in anticipation of what new grand words would be spoken as the world reaches its end. The dancers, formed into lines at the edges of the main road along which the Ritual guard and the Black Artifact had been escorted, keeping the crowds mostly at bay, broke into smaller formations. Streams of people broke through onto the road, to be swept back by the destructive power of the Ritual guard. The dancers, in their white and pastel silks all made one last sweeping motion in unison, and then the situation abruptly changed.

Above, the black specks in the sky froze. Around, the crowds froze in place, the wind and noise stopped, and a large portion of the great road, near the pavilion, was silently replaced with a square slab of perfectly smooth and perfectly white marble. The hovering telepegraphic screens re-adjusted themselves to the sudden lack of mental activity to feed into, and focused on the few active minds below- the situation became intuitively clear to all. Only a few things were moving still. The dancers, still grouped up along the road. The Attendant and the Elite Ritual Guard, who continued their steady shuffle towards the Worldship. Exemplar, The Bargainer and his servants, Septumvirate near the pavilion. Pontifex at the foot of the bridge, Surtr at his camp, and their respective followers. The figure standing at the center of the marble slab. A figure in simple, blandly colored garb, with no markings aside from a few simple glyphs embroidered onto the sleeves representing the first laws: a line, a circle, a triangle, a square. The top half of their face, much like historical depictions, was wreathed in gold and brass bands. Perhaps the world's first deity, or the representative, or the prototype of those ideals. The Lawgiver. He turned, facing down the road, towards the bridge, the Attendant, the Black Artifact, and the Worldship.

The dancers conjured small knives and began a series of suicidal lunges at the Attendant, falling on the weapons of the ERG.




(Psychic data is being beamed into your mind. You can interact with things in your tile. You can move a tile per turn as a free action, even diagonals, provided there's no enemy in your current tile. You can make a run action to move width in tiles, or two for diagonals. This does not stack with your free move, so choose wisely. Greyed out tiles are your typical fog of war deal. If you want to check them out before moving to them, attempt a sense check of some sort. Groups of unworthies are each 4 in number unless otherwise marked. 'Crowds' are immobile and impose a difficulty 3 to move through. You're all able to access the telepegraphs to communicate through them as a free action; furthermore, if something's on the map, you're aware of it. The wonders of technology! If you have followers, you can direct them for free, but issuing commands more complex than "kill that" or "follow me" will impose a 1d penalty to whatever else you're doing. Here's a song if you like those. If you have questions, IM me. Or the OOC thread.)

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PriamNevhausten
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Re: White Machine

Unread postby PriamNevhausten » Mon Feb 28, 2011 11:28 am

The Bargainer was speechless, eyes widened at the second-sight of the incarnation of the most primordial. He dared not move, nor speak, nor even bow, in the presence of what was quite possibly his boss. For once, the Bargainer's servants one-upped him in propriety, averting their eyes out of respect.

With the blades drawn and near, he was at least prescient enough to keep his eyes about him, eyes on the field around him, though the crowds mingling obscured perception too far beyond his immediate vicinity. (Sense+Sight yields a failure roll.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Idran1701 » Tue Mar 01, 2011 12:07 am

The Septumvirate silently congratulates the Exemplar's victory; easy as it may have come, it was still quite the sight to behold. As he begins closing the distance upon the Artifact, though, it happens. There, upon the rostrum...today just seems to be full of surprises, now doesn't it? The Septumvirate washes a mixture of green and blue as he looks upon the manifested Lawgiver. Though not as awe-struck as the Bargainer, this is still quite the sight to behold, the only fitting conclusion to this day. And yet now these dancers seek to ruin it all with some sort of attack on those bringing the Artifact to its honored destination? This certainly will not do. The ERG seems to be doing well enough for now, but it would only take a single dancer to pass by. Though he'd rather not expend the energy, his interests are much more towards ensuring things progress as smoothly as possible. Thus, the Attendant must be defended.

(Moving to 3,3, and for the sake of it scanning all the tiles around it (including the white ones) with Tuning)

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ChristianC
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Re: White Machine

Unread postby ChristianC » Tue Mar 01, 2011 9:59 am

The Pontifex felt no appreciation for the artifact, it was... unnerving, and they had long since decided it was a symbol, nothing more. A symbol of danger, surely, of power, but the object in itself had no practical use.

But this attack... enraged them. Pathetic, writhing little worms, disrupting these evens. The Pontifex nodded slightly and raised one arm from under the robes. Wrapped in silken cloth and strange symbols hanging in chains and bands. Only the pale white fingers of their hand was visible, and they began to trace patterns in the air, an ancient language leaving traces burnt into the oxygen itself as they began to chant slowly in a voice so deep that words itself were not decipherable.

"Let them regret their mistake for the remainder of their lives..."

[Don't really understand the limitations, but trying to fill the lungs of the closest dancer/s in 5-4 with the pitch-black water of the ocean]

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Jak Snide » Tue Mar 01, 2011 10:20 am

Conflict.

The specifics of the events that were transpiring were lost to the Exemplar. All it needed to know was that something important had occurred and there was a fight to be had. Still riding the high of victory it willed its sabatons into life and moved towards the battle.

(Running to 3-2, using rocket boots.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Besyanteo » Thu Mar 03, 2011 11:44 pm

Well damn, the schedule just changed didn't it? Time to get shit together and get out. He quickly ordered his followers before moving into the fray.

"I think It's time to blow this scene. Get everyone and their stuff together."

He ran towards the nearest pack of dancers, full planning on ripping them to shreds. And if the Lawgiver got in their way, he'd kill him too. This shit was not going to ruin his ticket off their doomed world.

(running towards 4-3, ready to bite some things up.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Capntastic » Mon Mar 07, 2011 2:22 am

Surtr's pack bursts into action, his most cherished clanmates darting alongside him through the silent streets, the rest making quick work of breaking down the camp and gathering their possessions. Their charge was impeded by a huge firestorm making its way in from the left alongside of them. Surtr knew many things of the natural and phenomenal, and this fire was something of both; a simple enough flame, but something about the stillness of the current situation had given this fire contrast. It was engulfing buildings and frozen ritual-goers far too fast to predict. A detour illustrated via telepegraph, leading through several side alleys, and a now inoperational fountain, had Surtr and his crew face to face with four of the silk-clad dancers.

His magnificent boots granting him speed amongst the stillness, Exemplar wove around and over obstacles. Stones, huts, humanoid light patterns, railings, and people. They were obstacles before, of course, but now they were even more stiflingly dull. Ascending the broad stairway, he finds himself at the grand pavilion next to the Bargainer and his associates, overlooking the main road, the marble square, and the Lawgiver.

The Bargainer's associates formed around him protectively as the Exemplar skidded into place at the railing. Beyond this, there were no signs of immediate threats at this particular instant. But it was obvious that his moment to moment actions could change this precarious situation.

The ERG arrayed themselves around the Attendant and Artifact, as a score of dancers fell to them. The Pontifex and retinue were able to glide along the main road and approach this frenzied melee. Their chant filled the cold air with meaning, and replaced the air in the lungs of the dancers with cold water. Three of them immediately began to spew inky brine, their elegant patterns being distorted by pain. The lone dancer that escaped this destruction lunged at the Pontifex, knife flashing, only to find themself circled by her dark robed followers, alone, and helpless.

The Septumvirate found it easy enough to find a route towards the main road, despite the energetic Exemplar crossing his path for an instant (crouch-jumping over a crate, propelled by some clever footwear), and from there, begin a casual scan of any emanating forces. Of course, all things are casual to such a magnificently capable mind. To the north there were the typical background forces, the ever-present lack of element zero (it would be detected one day!), but nothing astounding. His senses working clockwise from there, and detected a core leyline coming from the north, and then another angled a few degrees further. And then more. The sort of leyline that the bulk of the world's forces were cabled to. They led directly to the Lawgiver. This data was subtly relayed to all within the effect of the psychic screens above. But only the Septumvirate's mind could extrapolate an amusing hypothesis from this, as the sudden spike in mental activity caused the transmisson to stutter momentarily.

A hundred yards apart, two things happened: First, the Attendant hurried his pace along the bridge, the Artifact tucked under his arm. Second, the Lawgiver took a step forward, the perimeter of his marble platform moving in sync.

And then the Attendant paused, perhaps in response to that step, a third thing happened: The crystal bridge shattered upwards, shards of it sticking into the air, others becoming grey and vanishing, and some knifing downwards into the nutrient sea, causing large ripples to spread. The sharks began to frenzy.

(A psychic broadcast is stuttering in your cortices! In zone (4,2) Surtr and 10 of his finest are facing off against 4 dancers! In (3,2) Exemplar and Bargainer can see this, as well as the encroaching super fire. (4,5) has the Pontifex and Co just wrecking a group of dancers with a 3x10 set [taking out 3 of the unworthies, leaving Ponty's minions to do what they will with the singled out wrongthinking cultist] that the ERG hadn't had a chance to touch, with reinforcements streaming in from the north. Septumvirate's tuned in to some pretty heavy leyline activity tied to the Lawgiver, and this massive amount of data is automatically feeding into the telepegraph network.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Jak Snide » Tue Mar 08, 2011 3:31 pm

The Exemplar glanced at Surtr's pack as they clashed with the dancers. A clash of teams, and a lopsided one at that. So many targets clustered together. The realisation that they would be cheap, unchallenging kills stayed his hand long enough for him to take in his surroundings more completely. The Attendant had the artefact. He was being assailed by this newcomer and the dancers. The creature known to it as the Pontifex engaged the latter. Two clear sides and a contested prize. The scenario was familiar to it.

The shock lance spat crackling death.

(Changing action Single attack on a nearby Dancer since Zero pointed out that the Lawbringer doesn't seem like a combatant. For now.)
Last edited by Jak Snide on Mon Mar 14, 2011 6:16 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Idran1701 » Fri Mar 11, 2011 6:30 pm

Though continuing its drift towards the Attendant, the Septumvirate can't help but be intrigued by this new discovery regarding the Lawgiver. Refocusing its Seven Senses upon the ancient being, it seeks to observe every detail about this primeval figure's connection to their world's energies, and determine just what it is that picks at his mind so.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby PriamNevhausten » Sat Mar 12, 2011 1:23 pm

It would be foolish if the Bargainer thought that the Lawgiver would need or want his assistance. It would be a grievous error to think that he could stand against such a clearly battle-minded figure as the Exemplar. And still, he could easily sacrifice one of his groupies to spare the primordial one the force of whatever attack it was the Exemplar was preparing. He was right there.

With the time it took to even consider the situation, the moment was lost, and the Exemplar's blast reiterated to the Bargainer the lesson of hesitation's price.

Forcing himself not to stare at the blast, the Bargainer spotted the encroaching wall of flame, and pushed into the crowds ahead, out of the fire's apparent path and, coincidentally, closer to the worldship, the Attendant, the Black Artifact, and the Lawgiver himself.

(Moving to 3,3.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Besyanteo » Sun Mar 13, 2011 1:18 pm

Surtr wasted no time laying into the dancers, striking out at the throat of the one nearest him with the snake hand. This ought to be suitably demoralizing.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby ChristianC » Tue Mar 15, 2011 12:55 pm

The Pontifex observed the lone dancer for a moment, then nodded solemnly. "Subdue, but do not kill. We shall endeavour to observe this one closer..."

With that, the followers set to work on the knife-wielding dancer, not killing, but trying to knock out.

The Pontifex turned to observe the fighting, arms once more hidden in the robes, a strange clicking sound emitting from where their face would be. All this fighting, spilling of blood, lust for vengeance, desire for power, or perhaps to destroy the artifact. All meaningless acts of animal instinct, so base and disgusting that they would have nothing of it. For now they were content to watch. Watch, and learn.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Capntastic » Sat Mar 26, 2011 5:11 am

Moments passed. The Septumvirate began scanning the Lawgiver and the leylines streaming off of him in detail. The primary cables of force were easily noted. There were seven in total, which was a minor coincidence as any.

The Exemplar skated down a railing and through a series of small archways, trading height advantage for proximity. The new position afforded precise accuracy, and the weapon spat hypersonic death, piercing the vitals of one of the dancer's in the group facing off against Surtr and the boys.

The data collected by Septumvirate was rapidly being collected and sorted within the lightform's multi-mind, broad strokes of information being relayed through the telepegraph network. Each leyline branched off into more, and more, and on and on. The lines of force crisscrossed and blended.

The fire flourished as Surtr led the attack. His serpentine appendage lashed out as he closed upon the nearest dancer, sinking fangs directly into the cheek. A quick pull downwards tore flesh, but retained enough of a hold to bring the foe down- allowing his wolf to score a deep bite into the neck. Two of the dancers shrieked wordlessly, and the last seemed to have died of fright so severely that they'd fallen to the ground with fragments of their skull blown out. As the fire washed in, Surtr's boys made quick work of the two.

From the Pavilion, the marble slab and the lone figure upon it were clearly visible to the Bargainer. Suddenly, the Lawgiver's right hand was raised and a fresh group of silk wearing dancers appeared. The Lawgiver lowered his hand, and they immediately formed into groups and swirled their way outwards. Six were making their way to the pavilion steps. They'd drawn their knives.

Septumvirate's focus slid down one line, ignoring the thousands of branches and following one path to its end: a shard of the bridge, hanging in midair. He backtracked, selecting a different set: This time, near the bridge's remains, it terminated in a bubble of air making its way to the surface . Probing thuswise, lines to the water itself were found, as were more shards of the bridge. Going back several steps, he found a sub-cable that seemed to branch into strands connected to individual tiles in a large mosaic nearer to the pavilion. Another branch was hooked to the vast throngs of solidified revelers. Each of these connections were noted, and uploaded. Septumvirate backtracked to the Lawgiver, and selected a different leyline.

At the foot of the bridge, a cluster of dancers whirled around the petrified ritual-goers and closed in on Pontifex, the ERG, and the Attendant. The Attendant folded his slip of paper in half and pocketed it in some fold of his robe, and retrieved a small wand with a white five-point star at the top. He made a quick sign with it, a protective rune of sorts, and let the ERG fan out. He let out a simple cry: "This will have to be the final boarding call."

The telepegraph network was starting to strain under the vast amount of data being relayed through it, as a sizeable model of the leyline's network was recreated in Septumvirate's mind. The first core leyline he'd scanned was a bundle of trillions of strands, connecting Lawgiver to the entire world. Almost every speck of matter was linked to him. Septumvirate began to focus on a second cable. This one seemed to lead to less material things, as immediately a connection to several different shafts entering the worldsphere were found. Curiously, the fire was absent. The psychic conduits between the telepegraphs themselves. And the data being relayed between them. This was relayed as well. As was that. A feedback loop occured. The pressure of the psychic data being streamed into the minds of everyone below was becoming sharp. And then the network shorted out, with an almost disorienting amount of relief. And yet Septumvirate's mind was still actively sensing the strands connecting to the psychic connections gradually drifting away. And intuition guided this focus back to the Lawgiver with lightning speed.

The turning of the sky cycle was hastening.




(The telepegraphs are currently offline!! Everyone is peripherally aware of what Septumvirate was sorting out, up until the point the system was overloaded. It's pretty trippy stuff. Here's how things are going down, currently. Group One: Pontifex, the ERG, and The Attendant are at the foot of the bridge facing off against 12 dancers. Group Alpha: Septy and the Bargainer are in the process of being encroached upon by 6. Group Rip'n'Tear: Surtr's gang, joined by Exemplar wipes out the group without effort, a combined headshot and morale attack leading the way, but a new batch of 10 are are flowing in- as well as huge gouts of flame from behind. Those are going to become a problem now.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Jak Snide » Sun Mar 27, 2011 5:41 pm

It saw the Lawgiver summon reinforcements. The information flooding its consciousness told it how important the being was. Would the world perish with it, should it fall? The thought of slaying existence as it was know to it flooded the Exemplar's mind and with it came the desire to claim such a kill. There were other matters to consider, however. The prize and the entity who bore it remained, though they were under assault. A fresh wave of foes approached them.

It launched a ball of crackling energy towards the oncoming dancers, seeking to puncture it with a shot when it was in their midst. It believed that the creature known as Surtr would fall upon them soon and the dancers would not stand against their combined assault. More importantly, the Exemplar wished to collect kills before from the man and his pack could.

(Combo attack on the approaching Dancers.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby PriamNevhausten » Mon Mar 28, 2011 11:09 am

Something else was going on. The figure of the Lawgiver had called forth more of the armed dancers? What was he--it--playing at? With as much power as it inevitably had, it relied on small bands of agile bandits? There was more to the story here, but the Bargainer had no time to form a proper conjecture. Other matters were at hand--protecting his inventory among them.

"Don't fight them! Keep your distance, and board the Worldship as soon as you can!" he shouted to his attendants, giving them orders while allowing them autonomy of execution; the Bargainer knew the only true safe method of dealing with swinging knives was to be as far from their path as possible. Adding a beckon of his hand just in case, he too exited hastily towards the bridge.

(Inspire for the lesser gents and ladies, and then moving a ways out.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Idran1701 » Tue Mar 29, 2011 8:50 am

Oh, now that is interesting. The Septumvirate's attention is still taken by the Lawgiver, as it ponders the new information it's discovered. Now just how could a relationship such as this have formed? Was this being involved in the initial creation? Some later ritual? An accident intertwining it with the fate of their home? And could this be related to the threat their world now faces? Something does certainly seem to have the Lawgiver upset, after all.

Still, though enraptured by the discovery, it isn't entirely distracted. The Bargainer's call to his servants draws its attention, and the Septumvirate grows awash with patches of red. Drifting back towards the Worldship in the Bargainer's wake, it directs its Fractal Rays into the approaching group, seeking to disrupt them as best it can. Discovery is one thing, but it is hardly worth gaining knowledge if one is not alive to explore it, to be sure.

(Fractal Ray across the encroaching group, and following Bargainer towards the ship)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby ChristianC » Tue Mar 29, 2011 4:09 pm

The Pontifex shuffled ever so slightly inside its robe and then once more withdrew their hands, the charms wrapped around the cloth-adorned limbs clinking gently in the air as they grasped something invisible, like a string too slender for the eye to see. They turned their attention on the newly arrived dancers nearby before very gently raising their left hand, moving it towards the middle, turning the arm in a semi-circle and then lowered it back before moving it to the place of origin. Those of the dancers affected by the spell would feel as if their air-supply suddenly got choked, as if strand upon strand of fine silk was closing off their throats and making breathing almost impossible.

"We... want that object with us, my pets. Bring it to us, kindly, and we shall take it aboard." The Pontifex spoke gently to their followers as it struggled to keep the illusion active.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Besyanteo » Thu Mar 31, 2011 10:00 pm

Surtr's aims were now higher, as the Lawgiver either summoned more allies to the field from elsewhere to aid him or else simply called them into being. Either way, he was making himself a nuisance and the Mystic had no worries about the potential impact on their world should the Lawgiver suddenly cease to be... because that was about to happen regardless. Fuck him and his nonsense, he was between Surtr and the Ship. Time to rip him up! He called out to his crew as he advanced on their world's doomed god.

"Mop up and get away from the fire! We are leaving!"

(Advancing on the Lawgiver and attacking with both 'hands'.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Capntastic » Wed Apr 13, 2011 12:27 am

At the shattered steps of the bridge, the Pontifex's retinue swirled about the captured dancer, hauling them off while maintaining a defensive perimeter. The fresh group responded by likewise gliding towards the Pontifex, ERG, and Attendant. The glistening knight-defenders struck in many directions at once, felling two of the attackers neatly, their rhythm hindered for less than a beat. The Attendant formed a slight gravity barrier with his wand, sliding as far from the carnage as the hovering shards of crystal would support. It wasn't far enough, as a particularly sly dancer broke from the group to strike- the barrier slowing their grace just enough for one of the ERG to intercept the weapon. Then the Pontifex's spell came into effect, as conjured forces pulled the very breath from the silk flock. It effected the two nearest drastically, inflicting visible pain. The remaining eight assumed low positions, spreading out, and gathering themselves for further attempts.

(Pontifex's followers got no sets, while their spell got [2x8] inflicted width in area-killing, taking out two.)

At the pavilion's front arches, a second group of dancers were moving in for the kill. The Septumvirate lashed out with a ray of thoughtfully patterned light from within their very being, directly into the face of one of the dancers. They paused for a moment, faltering, and continued on with their swaying ascent of the steps, falling increasingly out of synch with the rest of the group, before tumbling down the steps. The Bargainer's servants arrayed themselves to better allow the Bargainer a clear path towards the Worldship, their orders spurring them on, alongside their hopes for self-preservation. The dancers struck out without success, finding their ornate movements blocked by the servants.

(The Bargainer increases the threat level of his servants, Septy gets a 3x6 fractal ray, which takes one of the dancers out of action. The remaining attacks are parried by the servants.)

On the road, the fires moved in, increasing in speed. The Exemplar did his work, introducing two objects to the fray: a sphere of crackling energy that arced through the air, and a hypersonic projectile that pierced it. The Resulting shockwave, directly in the center of the dancer formation, was tremendous. Over half of them were fragged instantly. This was a favorable result, even as tongues of flame sworled in to lick him. Surtr's boys found it easy to take advantage of the sudden disparity in the opposing force's numbers. Only one dancer of the ten remained fighting, though their rhythm had been considerably dampened.

Running atop the marble platform, Surtr's footsteps sounded of breaking glass, and indeed there were cracks forming where he had tread. A quick strike with his wolf companion appendage, ferocious enough to slam all will to live out of a normal man, was sunk into the Lawgiver's back. This happened. And at the same time, there was a tremendous sensation of waves crashing, and the force of the ocean behind it countering the bite with perfectly measured power. The sky, split between day and night, had reversed. Surtr was on the platform facing the Lawgiver, who was now facing him, though the Lawgiver had not turned. The world had.

(Exy gets a 3x6 and 3x7 multiple action which decimates the majority of the dancers, Surtr gets a 2x5 attack which is blocked by the Lawgiver. Exy takes 1 killing damage to his right arm from the fire closing in.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Jak Snide » Thu Apr 14, 2011 6:57 am

It glowed with satisfaction as the dancers were blown apart. It roared with anger as Surtr assaulted the Lawgiver. The creature sought to deny it the kill!

The Exemplar moved away from the flames, grudgingly adapting to arena conditions as it lined up a shot. It would not be denied such a unique opportunity.

(Moving away from flames, shooting at the Lawgiver once.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Idran1701 » Thu Apr 14, 2011 8:57 am

Without any further words, the Septumvirate continues to direct its attention on the dancers. The Worldship must not be harmed, and the Septumvirate will ensure it is not. Another ray of energy crosses the space between them, following a jagged path, the true shortest distance to its foes. It gives a brief glance towards the Exemplar, sighing as he succumbs to his base nature, but it doesn't worry to intercede; it doubts anything even that one could do would do more than annoy the Lawgiver, and for now its attention is focused on this goal.

(Same as last round, another fractal ray and continuing to head back towards the Worldship behind the Bargainer.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby PriamNevhausten » Thu Apr 14, 2011 10:50 pm

The time for diplomacy long since past, Bargainer and Friends¹ redoubled their efforts to reach the Worldship without suffering massive organ trauma, only looking away from their goal enough to stay prescient of encroaching threats.

¹: may or may not actually be friends of Bargainer

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Besyanteo » Thu Apr 14, 2011 11:36 pm

Surtr was caught off guard by the Lawgiver's response. Apparently it was in fact the genuine article, which meant that he had just engaged a god in a direct hand to hand fight. It wouldn't gain him anything to beat him, but if he won... He didn't waste much time on that train of thought. He needed to act if he meant to do this and live. He quickly changed tact- He jumped back a pace and called upon ancient words of power that transcended this world and resonated with places far beyond, sending him power, energy... which formed itself into a fairly mundane appearance, but no less powerful for it. Fire burned around him, and flew towards the Lawgiver at Surtr's direction.

(Fire! Enveloping/engulfing the Lawgiver.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby ChristianC » Sun Apr 17, 2011 5:01 am

The Pontixes cared little for the Lawgiver. Another deity amongst thousands, all seeking to flee the planet from which they were tied. Foolish creatures, leaving their followers behind... none had the same idea that the One had had, and it pleased It.

If the path was clear, the Pontifex would simply ascend the World Ship, fight off whatever dancers dared to come aboard it, but it was quickly tiring of this farce... and the strange animal-handed creature seemed intent on dealing with the old god.

Fine, let it.

Should any dancers dare approach, the Pontifex would once more fill their lungs with the terrible, crushing darkness of the deep ocean.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Capntastic » Sat May 21, 2011 5:44 am

The Bargainer and retinue, along with The Septumvirate made their way to the bridge. A flurry of specific light data was rayed from the latter into the eyes of one of the dancers- the second nearest, though apparently the most probable to land a blow- knocking them for a loop. The Bargainer's retinue made a solid albeit clumsy job of bodyguarding, taking down further assailants with inexpertly delivered trips and shoves. Knives clattered on the ground and dissolved into the spreading marble looking veins emanating from the platform. They came upon the Pontifex and their cult likewise proving the Lawgiver's forces to be a joke. Water filled the lungs of some, and others were simply engulfed by the mob of cloaked figures and, apparently, left strangled by more conventional means. The path to the shore was clear. The worldship lay out in the waters, some distance away. The shards of the bridge were gradually settling onto the ocean's surface and dissolving, and the guardsharks could be seen flitting about below the waters, filled with anxiety of an imminent death, or at leasts its slower cousin, hunger.

The ERG stood down as the sentient lightform, cosmic pitchman, and associates came to the edge to join the rest gathered there. The Attendant smirked as he slipped his wand back into his sleeve.

"I'd make a remark about wishing for a second bridge, but I can't imagine I've got much in the way of exchange, at this rate."

(Septy got a 2x3 ray set, Ponty got a 3x4 set. Even without rolling follower pools, victory on this end is pretty assured.)


With top precision, the Exemplar shot a death-dealing projectile, and there was a certain tenseness of the situation as it pierced the metallic casings adorning the Lawgiver's head. The subtle noises of the exit wound could be anticipated through a sort of developed instinct. The transcendent gore of the headshot was absent, though. Through ages of battle this was not an outcome that had been witnessed. The Exemplar might've assumed the shot to be a miss, had the black little hole of the weapon's impact been anywhere on the battlefield but the golden face of his foe. Surtr did not let the appearance of this hole to deter his attack. Drawing on the ambient forces of flame rampaging around the growing marble platform, Surtr wreathed the Lawgiver in a fiery mist that quickly condensed itself. Through this, the Lawgiver did not flinch. It would've been easy to assume that he was simply dead where he stood with the bullet in his head and the flames seeping off of his garments, turning them an ashen color.

There was an unexpectedly subtle motion as the figure physically stepped back. And a series of sensations became apparent to the Exemplar and Surtr. It was felt as knowledge and truth: A small cluster of violet flowers, thin roots extending into the dirt. Life fluids seeping through membranes. Tiny, almost unseeable cilia forming pollen. And green leaves turned to the bright light of day. Following it as it turned in the sky, and flattening as the colors of night played. Months of the cycle playing out as this small plant absorbed light and digested it, weaving it into biological forms. And now that plant is suddenly undone. Either obliterated into its components, or simply having never had existed. But all of the light that had gone into it sustaining and growing itself since it first sprouted found itself repurposed. A line of pure force blasts through both of the challengers cleanly.

(Surtr scores a 3x2 fire magic set, Exy gets a 3x10 headshot. Lawgiver takes some damage, and retaliates with a flower dealing 2 shock and 2 killing to Surtr's right leg, and the same to Exemplar. No ill effects from that right now, but if that spot gets hit again you'll be taking 1d penalties on anything that requires that leg.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Idran1701 » Sat May 21, 2011 10:38 pm

"While I wouldn't wish to infringe on our colleague's trade, I hope this one time, he won't mind another granting a desire." With a wash of yellow and green, the Septumvirate moves forward, towards and off the end of the shattered bridge. In his wake weaves a shifting, translucent rainbow of light, filling in the gaps left from the damage and stretching across to the far end. "I would suggest, however, watching your steps. And do not look upon it overly long; there is only so much light held here, after all, and it would not do to waste it all."

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby PriamNevhausten » Sun May 22, 2011 12:59 am

"Fellows, this seems to be one of the phenomena known as a 'limited offer.' Do not forget that time is a profoundly valuable commodity!"

Hesitating only for a moment, the Bargainer continued his dash onto the bridge of light, relying on his muscle instincts to carry him the distance. Had he more time, he would have expounded on the limitations of the market of ideas, and the inherent weakness--business-wise--of a position of desperation (and its associated rise in prices), or perhaps on, indeed, the nature of what constitutes "good-faith bargaining." Now was not the time; though he made a mental note to prepare a discussion of some sort in case the topic came up later.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Jak Snide » Sun May 22, 2011 4:08 pm

The Examplar's mind recoiled in shock. One of the inviolable laws of reality had been violated. The deity had been struck. It had been wounded. But it did not die. Its braincase had been bored through cleanly and it did not die. No entity it knew of survived that level of brain damage. The assault it suffered a moment later only confirmed that it was dealing with something entirely beyond its experience. It was fighting something that could not be killed by force of arms.

The Exemplar activated its sabatons, jets of flame propelling it away from the battle and after the others that fled for the worldship. It fired a parting shot, a defiant gesture that the small part of its mind that was given over to logic doubted would have any affect at all. It served to keep it from truly acknowledging that victory was an impossibility.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby ChristianC » Thu May 26, 2011 9:27 pm

The Pontifex had no interest in the fight, it had long since tired of the whole thing and wished to depart this doomed planet before any further inconveniences popped out from nowhere. It strode across the bridge at it's own pace, not showing any signs of panicked flight that the others exhibited.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Besyanteo » Wed Jun 01, 2011 8:35 pm

Surtr couldn't help but notice that the Lawgiver didn't seem to be chasing anyone onto the Worldship. He might make a special case now that he had a gaping hole in his head. The Worldship wouldn't wait on them much longer, though. This wasn't going to conclude any time soon, clearly.

"Let's go! Cut and run!"

He ran, and on this occasion he did not feel ashamed.

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Capntastic » Tue Jun 14, 2011 2:13 am

Bargainer, Pontifex, and Septumvirate, and all associates, followers, warboys, and similar, skittered across the lightbridge. It was two dimensional, but the shifting colors seemed to be layered infinitely. A quick glance might yield some sort of image of a charging shark amidst the chaotic shapes and colors, but this was certainly not an optical illusion. The sleek aquatic hunters, well cared for by the nutrient rich waters of the worldship's berth, were following their directive to utterly destroy anything that attempted to reach the ship through improper channels. The bridge was losing cohesiveness fast, as evidenced by the rapid loss of friction under foot.

The Exemplar had begun jetting away from his foe, quickly gaining enough momentum to momentarily pirouette and fire one last shot- taking advantage of Lawgiver's apparent lack of motion seemed unsportsmanlike, though it did grant another excellent headshot. Again, no exit wound. He finished his 360 and continued to gain speed towards the bridge, which seemed to be receding as he approached.

The Lawgiver's sheer presence was bearing down on Surtr alone as the warlord began to run. His followers had finished the last of the white clothed dancers off, and had begun to flee- both the fire and marble were spreading. His footfalls were heavy and crunched into the splintering, powdery white marble. Like snow and ice, but not cold. But as he ran, the marble surged on ahead, and though he could see his boys running across the sparkling bridge of light in the distance, he was not getting closer. A glance behind stolen at great risk showed that the Lawgiver was not giving chase, but given what the being was apparently capable of, could any amount of distance grant security? The fire was coursing alongside him now, disintegrating the remaining statues of the poor unworthies what had been medusified in the first stage of this combat. And just outside the corridor of flame, to his left, was a large shadowy figure. It was immense, and it certainly wasn't there moments before. It had gained on him, and just now surpassed him, within seconds.

And then it burst through the fire and was in front of him. It was a beast, easily four times as long as he, and robed in black and white downy feathers of exquisite cleanliness. The beast was surging ahead of him on its four muscular legs, each claw impacting the marble with bright metallic talons ringing against the marble, sending up sprays of fragments and dust. It was slowing down fraction by fraction, and he saw what was on this thing's back: two of his best crew, one using all of his might to keep hold of the braided leather chain keeping the thing's birdlike face poised and focused on the path ahead, the other using a small straight knife between the shoulderblades to moderate the thing's speed. They were laughing, not in the way one does at a particularly clever joke, but in the precise way one does when even the most clever joke could not elevate their mood. The beast itself hissed silently, but forcefully, as it was said to do- leaving the air particularly unsettled. "Grab hold!" came familiar voices, in chorus, through that steamed air.

The last Ribcleaner. Current situation taken fully into account or not, this was infinitely better than that dumb mask.


(The lightbridge is under assault by sharks, which are starting to "Frenzy". It is currently totally mostly fine up until the halfway point, which our runners are approaching. Also, the first segment of the lightbridge is failing as well.)

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Re: White Machine

Unread postby Jak Snide » Wed Jun 15, 2011 5:37 pm

This was wrong. A target that didn't move. A foe that didn't return fire. An opponent that should be dead twice over but refused the Exemplar the simple, wondrous pleasure of another entity's demise. It focused its attentions elsewhere, seeking a target it could kill. The sharks, creatures of pure and lethal purpose, would suffice. But first it needed to close. It needed an angle.

The Examplar spun its body, the soles of its sabatons impacting against the side of one of the rune encrusted pillars that flanked the foot of the bridge. It flexed its knees and pushed away, soaring back into the air as it sought to clear the growing gap and slake its bloodthirst.

(Athletics check to leap the gap. If it can acquire a target for a single shot during its leap then it'll go for that as well.)

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