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[Lost Expeditions] Castle Ravenloft


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"We need to move now," declared the pixie with a surprising amount of authority for her size. 'We can argue or kill each other on our own time! Atraxia said there's a road this way!"

 

The volley of arrows came nowhere near her; she was far too fast and tiny for them to pose a significant threat, but the rest of their party might not be so lucky. After quickly flying up over the canopy to check her bearings, Grim dropped back down to lead the rest of the group, she hoped to safety. 

 

 "This way; follow me!"

Edited by Heritage
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Nicole heard the twang of strings loosed and an arrow embedded itself deep into the tree, inches from her head. It took all her will to reach out with a shaky hand and stop the still quivering shaft. Then a heartbeat later, the red-eyed stranger swept her off the ground and took off running.

 

"Hey!"

 

She took a swipe at his head that missed by a mile. The branch hit nothing but air, and her arm tensed for a second swing when the pretty yellow robe came up from behind and easily lifted both of them in her arms. Running through the woods at full bore, still not breaking a sweat while carrying two people as she followed a tiny, flying lady running from arrows that came from the trees.

 

This wasn't going as planned for Nicole. Nothing had, ever since she popped up in the middle of the woods. So she gave up and let her head fall on one of the yellow robe's arms. With all the jostling, she couldn't know who's and neither did she care. All she wanted to know right now was just what was going on.

 

It wasn't the first time she wished that. It wouldn't be the last.

Edited by Zeitgeist Blue
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GM

 

The running group trekked for what seemed a good mile or two before the arrows stopped. They seemed to be chasing the runners off more than trying to damage them. They weren't out of the woods yet, but they were away from the arrows. Approaching the road, they saw a horse-drawn wagon with a group riding on it. A large man was guiding the horses, he wore leathers and a breastplate. two people, an onyx black woman and a dragon person, wore robes, but different than the yellow robes. the onyx woman wore blood red with black spiderweb patterns, the dragon wore a black robe. They were bickering back and forth in a strange language over items. There was a curly haired bearded man with many scars and a giant dragon tattoo on his chest, meditating. And finally, a woman with a crossbow and in hides.

 

The woman shouted out a warning. "Cultists," Grimalkin heard, "probably some of the vampire lord's bunch. Get them!"

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Pacer didn’t know anything here, okay? She obviously wasn’t on Earth anymore, and her brother wasn’t here and she was freaking out just a little. Okay maybe more than a little. And now there were these people and she frickin’ knew a warning call when she hear one, even if it was in another language. Also, they were kind of drawing weapons, maybe? So, in the small eternity between two seconds, she handed each one a good solid subsonic punch. Granted, it was probably like being hit by a car, but that was better than hypersonic, darn it. She cracked steel when she did that. Mickey would be disappointed if she went all out against normies. Of course, to anyone watching, she was a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it blur of motion. Barely moved at all, really. “Would someone tell me what is going on? I was just trying to follow the eclipse, for cripes’ sake. Now there’s arrowsandswordsand-” She drifted into a high pitched whine before realizing and slowing down. “I’m freakin’ out, man!”

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Great; I finally land in The Lord of the Rings, and no one speaks English.

 

First things first, immobilize the combatants; with a wave of her tiny hand, Grim conjured up a big, heavy hemp net, large enough to drop over the whole cart. She spared the horses in an attempt to keep them from panicking and hurting themselves. Then she landed beside the cart and returned to full size before speaking to the strangers in their own tongue.

 

 <"We are not minions of the vampire lord! We are travellers from another realm, and we mean you no harm!">

Edited by Heritage
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The meditating dragon tattoo man was blind sided by Pacer's quick assualt. the rest of the crew were seemingly ready from the crossbow woman' warning. Though what they did not expect is a huge net from a small creature. Most of them were mainly surprised. and angered by being trapped in a net. The only one who would have understood what was going on was too busy trying to get the ringing out of his ears from the supersonic blow.

 

"Foul creature, your wiles will not deter us from the vampire lord's castle," the big man brandished two swords. "Raisa," he spoke to one of the crew struggling to get out of the net, "what manner of creature is this so I might dispatch it quickly?" For being such a big guy he swung the two swords with surprising accuracy. Grim noticed something. The blows were not love taps she was used to. He was actually trying to bury the blades in to her like some kind of actual warrior!

 

While the dragon tattoo guy was still trying to center himself, the woman with the crossbow had other weapons. She dropped her crossbow and drew a large axe, hacking at the magical rope. She made headway, chopping it but getting nowhere.

 

"Another plane of existence," the onyx woman squinted looking at Grimalkin. "You don't look celestial or infernal or elemental. You're just an elf." The onyx woman spat, "your kind trapped my kind underground." She wiggled her fingers and spoke in an arcane language different what the people had been speaking. "Hands of Fire!" Gouts of flame game from her hand hitting the rope, and flying at Grimalkin and Pacer.

 

The dragon person looked down it's nose at Pacer. "You're fast," it said in a gravelly voice that Pacer didn't understand, "but can you outrun the gods?" Putting it's hands together, fire wreathed around Pacer as the dragon person seemed to be praying.

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Spitfire cursed under his breath and said to the girl who had just swung a club at his head, "If it ain't one thing it's another.  Arrows or other folks shooting fire from fingers and such.  Let's get you to safety while I help deal with this."  Spitfire extricated himself as best he could from Moira and smiled at her "Thanks fer the lift, hun."  then ducked behind some nearby trees, hoping the commotion would distract the would be assailants and set the lady in his arms down gently behind a tree and out of sight.

 

"Now you can do or believe what you want, but I suggest you stay here and stay quiet.  These folks look to mean business.  I'll come back for you after I'm done charbroiling this Shakespeare in the park crew."

 

Max slinked back to the road and started moving to join the fray, from the looks of it, that girl back at his trailer was going to have to leave with half a butterfly on her butt because he didn't think he'd be home again anytime soon.

Edited by EviscerusNox
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Moira freely let Max free. She wasn't going to need weight when she pounded the big man out of his armor. She rushed toward him as he was stabbing into Grimalkin and missed him! Quite agile this tall armored man was.She grunted her frustration. Her father taught he to end the enemy as quick and viciously as possible. It really didn't apply to the world she was protecting. But when Mr Stabby started to put blades in her friends all bets were off. She wasn't going to kill him, but once she got her hands on him, she was going to show him her father's brutality.

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An invisible shadow on the world, Atraxia sped up the eccentrically-chunky tree towards her target. The pulsating mass of heat she could barely see amid the mass of leaves and gnarled branches. 

 

Pausing just a few feet below where she'd last spotted the slurry of psychic foci and fresh-flowing blood, the Red Moon gathered the psychic claws about her bony ones. She'd only rarely been forced to harm anyone in all her long years, and every time was so long after the last it took a renewed effort to steel herself. 

 

This is necessary, this is-

 

Suddenly, the sounds of battle from elsewhere rang and howled through the air!

 

<"No!"> 

 

Clamping a hand too late over her mouth, Atraxia launched at what she fervently hoped was the hiding place of her quarry, a skeletal arm tipped with bright-red claws of searing psionic hunger lashing through the leafs and twigs to strike-

 

Nothing.

 

<"Yotz to all this.">

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Nicole nodded numbly, sighing as she was set down behind a tree, hidden from the fighting that was happening a few feet away. She could hear the sounds and the shouting, but all she could see was foliage and the odd flashing light. The man carrying her had nothing to fear; there was little anything the teen could do aside from shouting into the woods for help that wasn't there. The other group of strangers had attacked them on sight, and Nicole couldn't blame them.

 

"It's all the same to me," she glared at his back before he vanished among the trees.

 

There was little interesting to keep her busy. Leaves, soil, twigs, and more leaves. The battle behind her continued, but with only her ears to pick up noises she couldn't guess what was happening. So she closed her eyes, imagining she was in another place, and began to regulate her breathing, taking in deep breaths. Slower and slower, she loosened her grip on the branch, the tension from her shoulders evaporating, thinking of anything but her current predicament. Brush strokes and repeating codes, mantras from old tomes, and maybe some modern university textbooks. Deft fingers tracing sigils and samsaric lines on the dirt.

 

Meditation exercises.

And the start of a ritual.

Edited by Zeitgeist Blue
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Pacer whirled at several times the speed of sound. Yes, she could have dodged the fire, but where was the fun in that? While her powers didn’t let her do anything to affect the physical world with her speed indirectly, the same could not be said of the robe she was currently wearing. Which was sans underpants, because reasons. Tch, whatever. The robe caught the air and made a miniature tornado where Pacer was standing. It was hot, but the fire didn’t hurt her. The loose parts of the robe on the other hand, well…she didn’t have sleeves anymore. Or anything below the knee. Again, whatever. “Hey, that was hot!” She pointed at the one who tried to freeze her in place, as her speedy mind just kind of shrugged off the spell. “You are also annoying!” She blurred and did the “punching all of these idiots” thing again. They were clearly hostile, and also kind of tough, so she didn’t hold back at all. She was back in place in less than a second. “That’s my normal punch, suckers. Take a nap, you’ve earned it.” Once again, false bravado. Better than nothing, though? Also fighting was a lot simpler than being lost in some random dimension without any way to return. Because Pacer’s life was just so weird sometimes.

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"Gaaah!" Of all the assaults on her person Grim had just received, ironically it was not the weapon or fire magic targeted at her that caused her the most pain; it was the attacks directed at her conjured net that hurt the most. Her glamour was still part of her somehow, and if something she made was damaged, she suffered as well, albiet the pain was more 'psychic' in nature. So even though that net was doing the job for it was created admirably, it waa sadly too much of a liability right now.

 

Still doubled over in agony, the changeling dismissed the glamour with a wave of her hand, then wrapped a cloak of mystery about herself, which erased her from all senses but direct contact. Now feeling a bit safer, she slinked over by the cart to complete her recovery.

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The big man spat a curse after Scion and Pacer failed to hit him. When Grimalkin disappeared, he spoke one word of anger, "witches." He looked at the onyx woman with a leering scowl pointing to his eyes and then to her. Then he directed his attention towards Scion, the only one near him. Raising his sword, he grunted, "why are all the pretty ones dumb and evil?" He didn't wait for an answer. His flurry of swords tore into her with the skill of a practiced surgeon, hitting several vital spots, but the robe, seemed to deflect every thrust into her.

 

The Meditator finally stood and looked at Pacer. "You're quick, cultist," he said jumping down from the wagon with a full somersault before landing, " but let's see how fast you are when you," he threw a punch, but Pacer was too quick for him. "Touche."

 

The woman who originally had the crossbow dropped her axe after Pacer slammed into her. She didn't even notice that  rope and Grimalkin had disappeared. Looking around, to catch her bearings. She grunted, trying to make herself look imposing, but it failed as she swaggered a bit.

 

Raisa looked at the big man's disdain with an eye roll and a scoff. "Don't worry, Thyr," she smirked when he failed to fell Scion with his attack, "I'll remember this little incident at camp tonight." She chanted again, in her magical language, "Grow to the size of an ogre," she walked over to the big guy and he got even bigger!

 

The dragon person kept their cool under pressure and went over to the crossbow woman, touching her forehead and offering a prayer again. They looked to the hide-covered warrior, "are you better now?" She nodded. They smiled in only the way a person with a dragon head can smile, "good."

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Spitfire saw the big man lay into Moira and had to bite back a scream.  When he saw she was still on her feet he breathed out a sigh of relief.  He had to get in there, had to help someway.  But they were still in this stupid forest!  The bad guys might be willing to burn this place to the ground, but Max sure wasn't.  So he had an idea when the woman touched the big guy to make him even bigger.

 

Max sprinted out of the bushes and into the fight, screaming to make his presence known before doing what amounted to a double front flip directly in front of the big man, putting him between himself and the spell casting lady.  He struck up his best Bruce Lee pose and exhaled a small plume of fire.

 

"You wanna dance big'un?  I've burned down bigger balls of meat than you.  Let's see what you got!"  With that Max used all his training with the circus acrobats to feint a twirling flip that would leave his right side open, the side with the spell caster on it.  He wasn't actually vulnerable there, but he hoped it sure looked that way!

Edited by EviscerusNox
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Olympian training came in handy when dealing with these kind of attacks. Ares treated all of his students the same while fighting. If you survived, then you learned. If you died, you were weak and undeserving of the fight. Outside of combat, he was... not 'better', just different. Scion used her father's training to power through the brutal blows of the swordsman. By the time he was done, Spitfire had bounded in to distract the warrior.

 

Scion looked to the onyx woman. On top of her robes was a ghostly aura that formed into archaic armor and shield. Her fights against mystics in her own realm, Scion knew she would be hard to damage. Though she saw something worse. The dragon person touching the ranged warrior and her being picked back up to full health. Healers were dangerous for any team that didn't have them. She lined up her mark with a point, "get the healer down," she shouted to her people. Slamming into the dragon person, she knocked them about, throwing them off their mark.

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Her fingers moved as if pulled by invisible strings, circles upon circles without stopping, crying tears and pink, raw matter as they turned.

 

"Hello?"

 

Nicole blinked for the last time, and then she was nowhere and nothing. It wasn't even dark for there was no light to compare it to, no eyes to see. She could feel fingers move but no arms to direct them and no hands to limit them. And so they were at last free, twirling in the void on their own. She knew if they stopped, then everything would fall apart and she would go hurtling back from where she came and her blood would have been spilled for nothing. But there were perils in continuing still, unseen minds that saw her, peeled her apart to savor her innermost thoughts through tongues speaking fire and marrow.

 

"Hello," she said again, with more conviction, and this time something answered. Beyond the nothing and the where the nowhere became conscious of itself, as if creatio ex nihilo. Gods creating gods of creation inside their own creation. But she was not of their creation. Foreign and unwanted, she would inject her being and upon doing so unveil the lie that the gods have spun. So she moved, though she had no body to move in, wading through the nothing to find something, fingers turning everlasting.

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Pacer saw everything. She was in the zone. Hypersonic consciousness for the win. Oh, yeah, she was feeling it now. The pretty woman was tougher than she looked, which was good. She barely noticed one guy trying to punch her. As if she could be hit by punches. Ha. Then the big dude got bigger and there was some healing done, and ughhhhhh. Screw it, she’d hit them all again. This time she was a little more careful. Seemingly all at once, her tiny fists smashed into all of them. The now really big guy, though…her fist had bounced off his shin. Man, he was tall now. Can’t reach the vital points so easy. “I don’t need to hit one at a time, sister. I can punch ‘em all.” She flashed an impish grin. Oh, yes. Getting into it now.

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Thyr was in the process of acclimating to his new size. No matter how many times the witch did it to him he never got used to it instantly. His senses off, the tattooed 'cultist'wanted to get in his way, but do nothing. Seeing the opening in his foolishness, Thyr struck down a mighty blow. But the tattooed one moved and he struck the witch instead!

 

Raisa raised her hand just in time to pull off a shield. Even though she was thrown off balance due to the fast one's strikes, she was comfortable enough in her magics for it to go off spontaneously. She and the rest of her companions, sans the warrior, were still catching their bearings due to the fast one's assault.

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Spitfire watched the attack land and cringed at the weight of the blow.  He hoped this onyx woman was tougher than she looked because if that blow had hit him he'd be two smaller versions of himself.  The onyx woman seemed to weather the blows thanks to magic and Max breathed a sigh of relief.  There was no time for a reprieve though, and using his fire breath to make short work of these folks was completely out of the question.  So he relied on the strength of his arm and putting all his weight behind it to strike at the Dragon person Moira had called out.  It, did not go as planned.  His swing went wide despite the glassed over look in the draconic man's eyes and he ended up cracking his knuckles on the wood of the cart.

 

Max jerked his hand back sucking in a breath and shaking his now numb fingers  "Sunova beech nut that hurt!"  Things were just not going Max's way today.

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Scion watch the magical saving grace with a cringe. It would have been easy for the giant man to take out the spellcaster. Which would have been good for them, but probably deadly for the onyx one. Still, the one who was healing before looked out of it. Spitfire was handling it. Or trying to handle it.

 

So Scion moved in to fight the other threat. "Hey big man," she said yelling up at him, "I've fought bigger, let's take this to the ground!" She said trying to push him down. She barely budged him, but still grunted trying to push!

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So Dragonball Z looked to be the team healer. Lynn's limited experince in rpgs confirmed what Scion was saying: take out the orc shaman (or whoever) and it was easier to take out the enemy war party. His hide looked pretty thick, so this looked like a job for her frenzied dark faerie strength.

 

A low growl began somewhere near the wagon; it sounded something like a mountain lion, and it sounded pissed, but nothing could be seen. Suddenly Grimalkin appeared out of nowhere, night black claws out and eyes wild with rage! In a flash, she was upon the spellcaster, viciously slashing at her with her talons.

 

It was a surprisingly ferocious attack, and not something anyone saw coming.

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