Dahlia held her ground against the monster’s attack. Putting one hand on the strange focusing device she’d found on Benedetto, she concentrated and casted Sleep on the beast, hoping it would work to some extent, at least on the part of him that was man.
10:10, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 8 using 3d6 with rolls of 1,4,3. Spell Casting
Post by vladtaltos on Dec 14, 2014 11:28:59 GMT -5
You recall Andreas’ words when he told you there was something else about the wererat’s strange rock that he couldn’t identify, something more than it being a focus device. A feeling comes over you now as you hold the rock in your hand and mutter the formula for the Sleep spell, a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.
It’s as if you see a physical manifestation of the spell itself emit from your mouth and shoot forward in a spray of purple mist. It curls forward, wraps around the snake-thing, engulfing it.
The man-monster, however, doesn’t drop, nor does it freely shake off the effect of the spell. Instead, it writhes and struggles in the grip of powerful magical bonds. The effect isn’t one of Sleep, but something else entirely is taking place.
A piercing, screaming pain ricochets around your head. The pain is such you fall to your knees. It encroaches on your psyche, knocking on the door of your mind. Dog? You glance at the retriever and see he's not staring at the struggle a few feet away between snake and magic, but beyond that, in the dense brush.
There, you see the fox possessed by the spirit of Paolo Ruminoff, the man innocently charged and executed for murders he didn’t commit. He calls to you, to be allowed into your mind. You realize doing so will cause incredible pain, perhaps death.
This was all very strange to Dahlia. For the first time, she had thoughts of regret taking this mission. Lurking in shadows, striking from ambush, that was what she had become accustomed to, what she preferred to do. Here, in this strange wood, with its odd beasts, magic, she was discovering, had its own way of working as well. She didn’t like this at all.
But, she realized, if she were going to understand what she needed to know to close this case, she would have to do something she never would agree to do under other circumstances. She would have to allow an entity access to her mind, to roam free to cause whatever damage it may cause.
It was with great reluctance, then, that she did just that. And waited for the pain.
Post by vladtaltos on Dec 16, 2014 12:31:39 GMT -5
A sharp, stabbing pain knifes behind your eyes. You close them tight, hands clasped at the sides of your head. A voice breaks through the hazy black fog; it’s distant at first, as if someone’s speaking in a normal tone of voice at the far end of a long corridor. You hear sounds, but can’t discern their meaning.
But rather than the voice getting louder, you feel yourself rushing through the fog to meet the words, the scenery all around you nothing but churning black clouds.
When you stop, the words are clear: “When you’re dead, you understand everything.”
The voice is the same as the one that came from the fox, that of Paolo Ruminoff. A visual plays out in front of you, of the abductions, the murders, as well as how the current group of children held in the pit happened to be there. The hideous acts all conducted by the man you stood toe-to-toe with in battle just moments ago.
“Cut off the head of our foe, and burn his remains. It’s the only way he can be destroyed. If you fail, he will come back, as he has time and time again. Take the evidence in the cabin as proof who the real killer was, and take his head to Florence, to show that the killer is now dead.”
Ruminoff says more, but his words are drowned by the pain that scorches through your mind, tearing away at your psyche.
This was beginning to overwhelm Dahlia. She’d heard of and fought strange beasts in her career, but these confrontations with the wyrd were something completely out of her comfort zone. She could feel her sanity slipping away, becoming damaged, holes ripped in the fabric as easily as a soldier feels a spear tear through his armor and body.
09:57, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 11 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,3,4.
Post by vladtaltos on Dec 18, 2014 10:47:49 GMT -5
The voice and imagery vanishes and you find yourself kneeling on the ground, nose bleeding profusely (-1 ST. Your ST is now at 4). Nearby, the purple strands surrounding the snake-thing are beginning to fade.
You have surprise and can strike twice before the horror is completely free and attacks. To sever its head will require three strikes at DX-3. Of course, you are free to do anything, including retreating, and giving up on this combat, and-or the mission.
She’d have to worry about the bloody nose later. Right now, it was her time to finish off the bizarre man-beast that was responsible for the missing and murdered children. Standing, she brought her rapier down in a whipping motion, across its neck.
10:04, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 14 using 3d6 with rolls of 5,4,5. ---Surprise 10:04, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 9 using 3d6 with rolls of 6,1,2
<Using a karma point to re-roll the first attack>
10:06, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 7 using 3d6 with rolls of 1,3,3--re-roll, Karma point
Post by vladtaltos on Dec 22, 2014 10:21:28 GMT -5
Your sword connects to the beasts long, slender neck, sundering its coarse skin. Vile green blood fountains from the wound. The thing shrieks in pain and recoils, gnashing its human-like teeth, and thrashing its head side to side. In a sudden move, it lunges toward you, the spikes on its face dart and weave...
09:57, Today: GM rolled 6 using 3d6 with rolls of 1,1,4. (Attack) 09:57, Today: GM rolled 4 using 1d6 with rolls of 4. (Damage)
Feeling her life ebbing out of her, Dahlia thought for the first time in her career of turning away, retreating, and abandoning this assignment. Her contract was to vanquish the spirit of Paulo Ruminoff, because of his assumed guilt, but that verdict was misplaced. His innocence proven, the contract was now invalid. She could leave in good conscience.
But then, there were the children. She couldn’t leave them to this monster. With a shriek, she catapulted at him, her sword a blur.
09:46, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 8 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,2,2. Attack
I don't think damage matters here, but just if it does...
09:46, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 4 using 1d6+2 with rolls of 2. Damage
With a final pure stroke, your sword cleaves through the neck of the man-serpent, neatly separating its head from the rest of its body. It tumbles a few feet away, blood spraying from the wound. Its body spasms, contorting itself into knots, before finally becoming still.
You’re aware the rain continues to fall, dousing you and drenching your cloak, and of...Dog, who sidles up to you, coming out of wherever he was hiding during the melee.
Post by vladtaltos on Dec 30, 2014 11:44:02 GMT -5
Dog stares into your eyes and wags his tail during your admonishment, seemingly unaware of your displeasure, his trusting eyes begging for a treat, perhaps. Or perhaps just a pat on the head. Or perhaps not.
In the passing minutes you find several sturdy, heavy branches, but you lack anything with which to ignite the man-beast’s corpse. Too, everything is damp from the rain. You place the severed head in your sack, physical evidence of the murderer’s identity to take to Florence, and think of how to destroy the corpse per the ghost’s instructions.
The rain has stopped, at least. A dim glow falls over the forest from the sun’s struggle to penetrate the dark and gloom.
Dahlia goes to the pit and gives the captives there a reassuring word, promising them she’ll be back to rescue them, but first she had to follow Ruminoff’s instructions on how to destroy the beast. She returned to the cabin, and looked for anything with which to create a flame, looking first in the kitchen.